


There and Back Again

by ElyssaCousland



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Gen, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 149
Words: 647,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElyssaCousland/pseuds/ElyssaCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sierra is a modern-day business consultant who has changed the history of Thedas. Cailan survived, the Blight is over, but will there be a cost to the changes she has wrought?  What about the future, still-unknown?  Spoilers: DA:O, Awakenings, the Calling, Stolen Throne.  Will continue into DA2 and DA:I timelines (significantly AU!).  Currently in Awakenings.</p><p>Thanks to Kira Tamarion and Melysande for editing help.  I don't own Dragon Age, I just play here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreams

**Chapter One: Dreams**

 

I walked, hobbled really, trying to hurry.  Back to my house.  Back to the safety of my four walls.  Back to the room I wished I could stay in forever.  The bags in my hands seemed to grow heavier with each step, and I was out of breath from hurrying.  Cursing, I shifted my grip on the damned groceries again.  As happened more and more frequently lately, a wave of dizziness washed over me, and I abruptly lurched to the side, plowing into another unfortunate pedestrian.  The man swore, barely keeping his feet, and I shuffled away as fast as I could with blurry vision and ringing in my ears.  For once, I didn't even hear the insults hurled at me, that three-letter word that had been used to humiliate me since my earliest childhood memories - fat _.  Not that it was untrue_ , I normally thought to myself whenever someone muttered that epithet in my direction, _but why was it any business of theirs?_   This time, the pounding in my head completely blocked it out, and I passed around a corner out of sight without even realising I'd been insulted.

 Initially, my dizzy spells had only lasted moments, but they had been getting worse; I had fainted, a few times, and woken in an ambulance or hospital, but at first if I could stay on my feet they would just pass.  A million tests, a dozen doctors, and no one had any answers.  The fainting spells were becoming more frequent, lasting longer, and the last time I'd been unconscious for an entire day.  My therapist, the one I'd reluctantly agreed to visit after the third hospital trip, had decided they were panic attacks.  I hadn't thought of myself as someone prone to panic before they started.  I certainly was, by now.  When the dizziness hit, I would try anything - breathing into a paper bag, sitting with my head between my knees, I had even tried alcohol.  Once, mortified at myself, I even tried a joint, all with no effect.  I took the medication the therapist recommended, which only made me nauseous. 

 It became a nightmare for me to leave the house.  The embarrassment of waking in hospital was too much, so I stayed behind closed doors.  Once I had even been robbed, waking on a street corner with no purse, no wallet; that was the proverbial last straw.  With no family, and a recent layoff with a severance package that would keep my rent paid for a while yet, no one noticed when I blacked out if I never left home, and eventually I would wake, stiff, with a full bladder and an empty stomach, and things would be normal again.  Until the next time. 

 But I still needed groceries.  I no longer drove, not trusting myself not to black out behind the wheel, and that left me with walking to the nearest store.  It wasn't all that far, but I hadn't been one for exercise since childhood, and I found even the few blocks left me panting.  And that was assuming I made it there and back without passing out.  Which it seemed I wasn't going to be able to do, this time.  Careening around the corner, I found a bench up against the side of the building I was passing, and sank onto it, groceries still in hand.  I fought the feeling, struggled to stay awake, but felt the blackness take me anyway.  My body slumped to the side, as I dropped the grocery bags, and remembered nothing else.

 ********

 The things I hadn't told anyone about the blackouts were the dreams.  My therapist and a variety of frustrated emergency room doctors already thought I was crazy; I certainly wasn't going to make that worse by explaining the dreams that haunted me while I was unconscious.  I justified that by assuring myself they were nothing other than the random firings of nerve cells in my too-imaginative brain, and trying to ignore them.  After all, even coma patients who woke after years of unconsciousness reported dreaming, right?  But the dreams were too real.  I had started needing more and more time to recover from them; when I woke I was unsure who I was, where I was.  The dreams felt more real to me than being awake.

 The first dream I could remember, the first blackout, I saw the dragon.  Massive, evil, such a dark red it almost appeared purple, the beast flew over me.  The wind from its wings battered against me, knocking me over, its roar deafening me.  I had scrambled to get away, scraping my hands on the rocks beneath me, feet scrabbling for purchase, until I made the mistake of looking down and realising that it was not rock shards I was sliding over, but jagged pieces of bone... I woke in the back of an ambulance, my blood curdling scream almost causing the paramedic who was driving to careen off the road.  It had only taken a few seconds to figure out where that dream had come from - with the layoff, and nothing left to do after sending out resumes, I'd been playing computer games to kill time.  One game in particular, really - Dragon Age: Origins.  Convinced I'd just overdone it on the fantasy, I tried to put the dream out of my mind as much as possible.

 The next dream was about darkspawn.  I was in the deep roads, from the same damned game, watching from above as the horde marched.  The sheer number of disgusting creatures was overwhelming, the smell of rot and decay rising to assail my nostrils, the sound of thousands of feet roaring, the high-pitched calls of the shrieks barely discernible above the rest of the din.  I watched for what felt like hours, waking finally in the emergency room, apparently only unconscious for about an hour.  I shuddered, remembering the oppressive aura of true evil that rose from the horde, but again, I put it down to too much time in front of the computer, too late at night.  I put aside the game for a while, thinking perhaps I just needed a break from that sort of dark fantasy.  I watched romantic comedies and re-read favourite books, but it made no difference.  The dreams kept coming with each blackout, and eventually I returned to the game.

 As I isolated myself further, avoiding leaving the house for fear of public blackouts, I played more and more.  Having nothing else more compelling to do, when I finished the game, I started again.  I played first as a human, then as an elf, a dwarf.  I played the mage origin twice, trying different tactics each time.  I resolved not to look up the outcomes of any of the decisions, and tried all the different ones.  Support Harrowmont once, Bhelen the next time.  Kill the elves, kill the werewolves, try to find a compromise.  Kill Loghain, or recruit him.  Take Morrigan's deal or don't.  Romance Alistair, or Zevran, or giggle as I tried to manage a lesbian relationship with Leliana.  Deal with the devastation of Alistair sacrificing himself to save me, or watch him cry over me at my funeral if I saved him.  I tried them all.  My favourite was playing a human noble, a rogue, and ending up as the Queen of Ferelden, even though poor Alistair hated it.  But he was so sweet, so kind, so noble...I played the romance scenes with him over and over, falling head over heels with the handsome templar _.  It was a good thing_ , I decided, _that I don't have any close friends to see me pining away over a fictional character in a computer game.  I'd never live it down._  

 I read the books by David Gaider, and while they were interesting in their own way, they weren't as compelling as playing the game.  Though knowing who Alistair's mother was threw me, for a bit.  I pictured him as being huge...how could he be half elven?  Elves were supposed to be tiny.  I knew the children of elves and humans looked human, but I figured the height might at least be affected.  I didn't dwell on it.

 And in between, the blackouts.  The dreams.  Sometimes I would have more-or-less pleasant ones; images of Alistair's childhood in Redcliffe Castle, or Leliana as a youngster singing for an older woman I assumed to be Lady Cecilie, the Orlesian noblewoman who raised her, or Morrigan's fumbling first attempts at shapechanging.  Sometimes they would be full of demons and abominations, darkspawn and undead.  However, I couldn't help but notice that with each blackout, the dreams were becoming longer, more detailed, more real, and the actual world felt more and more like a dream.  I knew I should have been terrified, but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to care that much.  It wasn't like I was leaving anything of importance behind, like anyone would truly care if I didn't wake up.  It was only the inconvenience, the embarrassment of the blackouts that caused me any real grief.

 ********

 This dream was the most immersive of all, I thought to myself as I looked around.  I was standing in the middle of a field, wearing my jeans, jacket, and t-shirt, dark hair flowing down my back, with my feet crammed into my ill-fitting cheap shoes.  The scent of wild flowers tickled my nose, as well as a whiff of manure.  I looked around to see a busy farm-hold in the distance, and without any other ideas, I walked in that direction.  The act of walking brought me up short; I hadn't realised, but this body I was inhabiting was definitely not my own.  I stopped and looked down, realising that instead of the roundness of my stomach, the flare of my hips that I was used to, I found a long, lean body, with small breasts high on my chest, slim hips, and thighs which didn't touch when I stood.  Despite my changed body, my clothes fit fine, which seemed strange.  For the first time in a long time, as I walked, I did not feel out of breath, my legs didn't burn with effort.  As I returned to crossing the field, I felt slightly giddy, even skipping a few steps, until my feet started to protest.  I ended up having to sit down and take off my shoes, walking the rest of the way barefoot.  Smiling, I stepped onto the well-packed dirt in front of the small farmhouse.

 I could hear children, somewhere in the distance, giggling and laughing as they chased each other and played juvenile games.  There were dogs barking, and the sound of chickens and pigs, and I wandered around, wide-eyed.  Being born and raised in the city, I had never been to a farm before, but this looked...rustic, even to me.  There was no paved road, just a dirt trail leading to the farmhouse.  I saw no cars, no trucks, but there was a large cart that I assumed could be hitched to a horse.  I could hear no tractors, and could just distinguish men, in the fields, harvesting some sort of plant by hand.  I wondered if they could be Amish.  I had never seen anyone Amish, but knew that they did not accept modern technology at all. 

 I wandered further, coming up on the small farmhouse.  It too was primitive, made out of stone and wood.  There was only one small window, and the glass was warped, yellowing and thick, like pictures I had seen of ancient cathedrals.  The roof was thatched - I did a double take at that - and thin smoke was curling up out of a chimney.  I didn't go up to the door, deciding to look around more first.  Passing around the side of the small building, I came upon two women hanging damp laundry onto a line.  They didn't see me approach, and I paused, examining the women in surprise.  One of the women was young, perhaps barely eighteen, while the other was older.  The older one had a young baby strapped to her hip with a blanket.  They were chatting away as they hung laundry, and the unusual, obviously hand-sewn clothes drew my attention. 

 I was distracted from examining their clothes when I realised I could overhear what they were saying.

 "Isn't it exciting, mother?" asked the younger woman.  The enthusiasm in her voice made me adjust her age estimate down by a couple of years.  "The King will be marching past in the next couple of days.  And Loghain, the Hero of River Dane.  And an army of Grey Wardens!"

 "Don't let your father hear that tone when you talk about men," admonished the older woman.  "Maker knows he'd tie you up in the barn and never let you out again."  She smiled, taking the sting from her words.

 "Oh, mother, the stories all mention how handsome King Cailan is.  I just want to see him.  See if it's true."

 "And try to catch his eye, no doubt.  Don't give me that look, girl, you can't fool me.  I'd recommend you set your sights a bit lower.  I suspect Queen Anora would have a swift and probably unpleasant response to anyone getting attention from the King.  Don't underestimate that woman; she's ruthless."  Both women giggled, but the younger one paused, suddenly looking nervous.

 "Mother?"

 "Yes, dear?"

 "I was thinking about...going to Ostagar.  Trying to get a job as a servant or cook or some such."  Her mother dropped the trousers she was trying to hang, staring at the young woman in shock.  "Wait, hear me out.  Look, Maker knows we could use the silver.  I am certain they could use extra hands, helping to prepare, and...isn't it our duty?  To help the King, in any way we can, in a time of Blight?  Da's letting Dylan go, to join the army as a recruit, he could accompany me there and make sure I'm safe, and..."

 She trailed off under her mother's gaze.  The brief silence left me time to think, to try to process the information I'd just heard.  A King?  A battle at...Ostagar?  I knew I'd been dreaming about Dragon Age, but hadn't expected this level of detail, from a dream.  These pieces weren't a part of the game!  There had been no mention of this young woman, or this Dylan.  Somehow my sleeping brain was providing details, and...back story?  In a setting created by a game designer.  _Weird_.

 A sudden scream of terror brought me back to what was happening.  Glancing around, I noticed the young woman staring out into the fields, hands pressed over her mouth, as she took a deep breath to scream again.  I followed her gaze, and gasped.  Rising up, out of the ground, were darkspawn.  One of them had already attacked, its wicked sword being pulled out of the body of one of the men I had seen harvesting grain.  Another was fighting a second man, who was using one of his farming tools - a scythe, I realised - as a weapon, parrying desperately.  More creatures surged to the surface, spreading out and engaging the other men in the field.  Seeing that they had the men outnumbered, several of the creatures turned towards the young woman's scream and headed toward the farmhouse.

 Reality setting in, the mother grabbed her daughter, shaking her until she caught her eye, and then screamed at her.  "Run!  Keep running and don't look back.  Go find the King.  Tell him what happened.  Go!  Run, girl!" 

 With a shove from her mother, the girl finally turned, and started to run away.  She stumbled as she ran, not even noticing me as she sprinted past, around the house and out of sight.  I was still frozen in place, staring at the horror of - _oh God - Genlocks and Hurlocks_ up close, as the mother unhooked the baby from her waist, settling it in the laundry basket, and running over to tuck the basket into the shelter of the wall of the house where it would not easily be seen.  Grabbing a large stick, she stepped out onto the path her daughter had run down, and I finally realised _she was preparing to fight.  Darkspawn.  Alone.  With a stick._

 Looking around desperately, I noticed a pitchfork leaning against the wall, and ran over to grab it.  I realised I did not have enough time to run away - my hesitation had cost me that - and now had no choice but to fight.  I grabbed the implement and ran up to the woman's side, heart pounding, feeling like I was going to vomit.  _Keep it together, Sierra._   The woman didn't even acknowledge me, she was so focused on the approaching darkspawn.  I frantically searched my mind for anything I knew about fighting, coming up with very little.  I was briefly disgusted with myself for never watching martial arts movies, when the darkspawn arrived.  No time left to think, I struck out at one with the pitchfork, scoring a hit on his face from my superior reach, and the creature bellowed in pain.

 The darkspawn seemed to give me a wide berth after that, instead attempting to surround the unfortunate woman beside me trying to defend the road long enough for her daughter to run.  She swung her stick with determination, obviously much better trained with a weapon than I, but with all the crowding around her, there was only so much she could do.  I tried to help any way I could, hacking as a hurlock lifted his axe to cut her down, black blood squirting out through the openings my pitchfork made in his back, slashing the sword arm of another, just trying to keep her whole.  She had blood running down her face, and some sort of wound in her side - not all of the blood on her homemade linen dress was hers, but enough of it was.  More and more of the darkspawn were coming, and I realised they had finished off the men in the fields.  _We are losing_.

 I heard an odd noise behind me, and turned my head for one moment.  The whole scene seemed to pause as a tall, gaunt, twisted figure, a parody of the hurlocks in front of me, unfolded from the ground.  He wore strange, blood red, piecemeal armour, and an elaborate though shabby headdress.  An Emissary, I realised, and my heart sank.  It had been hopeless before, though I had refused to acknowledge it, but now I was forced to.  We were through.  The Emissary was chanting, and the hair on my arms stood on end, goosebumps rippling my flesh, as I felt the magic building.  I turned back to yell at the woman to run, just in time to see her cut down by a darkspawn sword.

 I screamed, a howl of rage and fear and anguish, and felt something change in the magic aura behind me.  As tears flowed down my cheeks, a flash of white light expanded in a circle around me.  The hurlocks and genlocks around me howled, then flew back from me, some of them landing on the ground, some slamming up against another surface, like the wall of the house, before sliding down to join their brethren in the dirt.  None of them rose again.  I turned to see the Emissary still alive, though down on the ground behind me.  He looked...confused, would be the closest I could come to the emotion expressed on his corrupted face.  Blood trickled out of one ear, though he didn't seem to notice it.

 "What did you do?"  It asked.  I had forgotten that Emissaries can speak, and the gravelly voice was like nails on a chalkboard.  It raised its arms, chanting, then gasping as nothing happened.  "What are you?" It screamed now, raising its arms again, and finally released from my stunned paralysis, I stomped over to it and drove the pitchfork into its chest with all of my strength.  Black ichor squirted out, again, and I realised my jeans were entirely ruined.  Black blood dripped off the hem and was smeared across my chest, but nowhere did I see any of my own, red blood.  I was, amazingly, unharmed.

 The Emissary fell back, and I stood over it, panting, tears still streaming.  Convinced it was dead, I finally straightened and surveyed the farm-hold.  Nothing moved.  The darkspawn were dead, the grass turning brown around them where they lay.  There was no sound - no more children playing, no more talking, no more screaming.  Everything was desolate silence.  I screamed once, sinking down beside the body of the woman I'd fought to save _.  Too late.  Why did it have to be too late?_   I held her hand and sobbed, guilt washing over me.  _Why hadn't I done something?  What had even happened?_   It was clear the Emissary hadn't seen anything like it before, and obviously, neither had I.

 A soft-pitched cry disturbed me from my mourning.  _The baby!_   Another thing I'd forgotten.  I hustled over to the spot where his mother had hidden the basket, and there, amidst the still damp laundry, I found a tiny, sweet, smiling face.  I picked him up, gently - I had never held an infant before, had no idea whatsoever what to do with him.  In foster care I'd had numerous younger foster-siblings, but the youngest had been toddlers.  He smiled at me, reaching out and grabbing a handful of hair.  I smiled back.  I sat him back in the basket, feeling somewhat less desolate.  It had been too late to save his mother, the rest of his family - but he, and perhaps his sister, would live.

 The stink of blood was in my nose, the metallic taste in my mouth; I decided that the least these people deserved was to be buried with some respect.  And perhaps I would burn the darkspawn corpses as well, before they tainted anything else.  I went into the house, searching until I found some blankets, some water, and something I assumed was kerosene, and dragged my finds outside.  Back inside for a moment, I found a chamber pot and did my business.  Outside, I drank some water, and carefully dripped some into the baby's mouth as well; he giggled as it ran down his chin.  I pulled his mother's body out from amidst the darkspawn, crossing her arms on her chest and closing her eyes before I covered her with a blanket. 

 Setting off into the field, I found the rest of the bodies, and slowly, laboriously, pulled them all to lie beside her, before covering them as well.  The bodies of the children left me sobbing, again, tiny bodies laid between the larger ones of their family.  The task was gruesome.  Finally, surrounded by four children and five adults, I found a shovel and began to dig.  I knew I wouldn't manage to make graves as deep as I wished, but something was better than nothing.  I dug, and dug, eventually realising that I would be exhausted long before I had enough individual resting places.  I decided that the family would probably forgive me for one communal grave.  The baby was remarkably well behaved during this, though I had to scrounge through the family's kitchen to find something to feed him a couple of times.  I dug through the evening and into the night, finally sitting down, planning to rest for a few minutes before continuing.  I leaned back against the wall, briefly holding the sleeping baby, and fell fast asleep.  I woke when the full rays of the sun were beating down on me, a tiny fist pulling on my hair.  Startled, I realised that falling asleep in the open in an area that darkspawn frequented was horrendously stupid, but somehow we had survived, the tiny baby and I, despite that.

 I fed him again, and found some cloth diapers to change him into.  I'd have given anything for some safety pins - or some huggies.  Disposable diapers were definitely a luxury I'd have paid for right then.  Tucking him back into the basket of laundry, for want of a better option, I finished the hole I had been digging and gently placed the first body in it.  As I was reaching for the second, I heard noise in the distance.  Pausing just briefly to listen, I realised what I was hearing was horses.  Lots of horses.  And they were coming fast.  I was quite sure that darkspawn didn't ride horses, and had no desire to try to explain to whoever was coming who I was.  I tucked the baby, who was sleeping again, under the laundry, back into the space his mother had shoved him before the attack.  Not knowing what else to do, I crept out into the field, finding a spot devoid of blood, that had yet to be harvested, and lay down, hoping the high grass would hide me. 

 In a couple of minutes, the cavalry finally arrived.  I saw the young woman from the day before, and she was being escorted by a contingent of heavily armoured, armed men.  She was crying as they came around the house, seeing as no one had answered her calls as they rode up.  The armed men quickly cleared the house and farmyard, determining no darkspawn were about, and no family members still lived.  And then the baby squalled, and the young woman dashed over to grab him out of the basket, hugging him desperately to her breast and sobbing.  One of the men kindly took her aside so she would not have to stare at the bodies of her slain family, and she shuffled away.

 I was close enough to hear snippets of the conversation, and determined that the man in the golden, shiny armour was indeed King Cailan.  He was as good looking as advertised.  That thought made me smile, just a little.  He and a couple of his men looked around, trying to determine what had happened.

 "There must have been someone else here.  Look.  All the bodies laid out neatly, and covered..."

 "...and someone has changed that baby's nappy, or I'm Andraste's husband." 

 "But how could someone have survived?  Maker, look at the number of them." 

 "...an Emissary.  Have you ever seen simple farm folk survive an Emissary?"

 "...seen an Emissary killed by a pitchfork?"

 "Could a darkspawn have done it and run?"

 "... eat the dead.  They don't bury'em."

 "Why in Andraste's name would anyone bury them?"

 "...an elf?  One of the Dalish?"

 "...get a pyre going, and burn those darkspawn too."

 I scrubbed a hand across my face, eyes gritty.  _Stupid, stupid.  People in Ferelden don't bury their dead._   How could I forget?

 "...even oil, here, just waiting."

 "..whoever did it.  Strange they'd leave - the reward..."

 "...maybe an Apostate?  That might..."

 Finally, they finished building a pyre and burned the dead.  I watched as the flames burned into the night, as the men finally gathered up the young woman and her brother and headed out.  As the last of the men rode off into the night, I stood, bowing my head by the pyre, tears streaking down my face.

 


	2. Accepting Reality

**Chapter Two: Accepting Reality**

 And suddenly I awoke.  I was somewhere dark, and quite confused.  _What had happened after the pyre had burnt itself out?_   I wasn't comfortable, exactly, but I was lying on something semi-soft.  I stayed still, trying to get my bearings, when I finally noticed the soft beeping, the discomfort in my hand.  An IV.  I was in a hospital, again.  The rest of it came rushing back - the blackouts, the dreams, the bus bench I had collapsed onto.  I could feel the tears trickle down my face.  All of it - the horror, the fighting, the blood, the digging, that baby...all of it was a dream.  I rolled over, careful of the IV, and sobbed.   _What on earth was wrong with me?_   A nurse hustled in, noticing my movement.  She laid a sympathetic hand on my shoulder while I cried.  Eventually she helped me sit up, checking my vitals and my IV, before promising to get the doctor.

 "Wait.  How...how long?  How long was I unconscious?"

 "Almost two days.  You had us scared.  I'm glad to see you back awake.  Try to relax now, okay?  But don't fall asleep just yet."

 I took mental stock of my body.  I didn't have a catheter this time.  That was good.  Just one IV, and it looked to only be running fluid.  Also good.  I didn't feel hazy, like I'd been given any meds.  Another check on the good side.  However, unlike previous blackouts, I hurt.  Everywhere.  My back was in agony, and I wondered how long I had been slumped on that bus bench before the paramedics came.  My feet and my hands were the next items that bothered me.  I sat up further, turning up the lights, to get a better look, and stopped, stunned.

 Both of my palms were covered in blisters.  My nails were chipped, and in some places torn off.  They reminded me of the time I tried to take up gardening, with disastrous results.  They looked...like I had been digging.  A lot.  I checked my feet next, and discovered they also were not in good shape.  I had a few superficial splinters, several scrapes, and some blisters there as well.  _What the hell?_

 I was still sitting, motionless, staring, when the doctor arrived.  I'd met this one before, and sighed with relief as I saw him come through the door - he was one of the nice ones.  One of the few who didn't think I was an escaped psych patient.  I still covered my feet and clasped my hands together so he wouldn't see what I had discovered.

 "I'm glad you're awake, Sierra."

 "Hey, doc.  Come here often?" 

 He laughed, and pulled over a stool.

 "It's getting worse, isn't it?" 

 I nodded.  "Two days, this time.  It's my new record."  He smiled, but I could see a shadow of worry in his face.  "I had no idea panic attacks could be like this."

 "They aren't panic attacks, Sierra.  I don't know what they are, but I can tell you, they aren't that."

 "How do you know?"

 "Well...a lot of ways.  I mean, you aren't awake at all, during those times.  You don't respond to pain.  No panic attack leaves someone unable to respond to pain.  This time, we did an EEG while you were out.  Tracing your brain waves?  I thought maybe it was some weird form of seizure..." 

 I nodded in understanding.  I'd heard of EEGs.  I'd had one, once, earlier on in the blackout progression. 

 "Well, not only was it not a seizure...Sierra, I've never seen an EEG like this.  It was completely flat.  Even brain death leaves a particular pattern.  You never, never, see one that's completely flat.  I don't have the slightest idea what could cause that."

 Now I was worried.  _Well, more worried_.  "Was I dead?"

 "No, no.  I mean, you were breathing, your heart was beating.  There was no sign of anything wrong.  Just...it was like no one was home."  He paused.  "Do you remember anything?  I've always had the feeling you weren't telling me everything.  I'm not going to tell anyone things you want kept confidential, but anything could help.  Please."

 I studied his face, thinking.  Finally I decided to tell part of the truth, and see how he reacted.

 "I...was dreaming."

 "Dreaming?"  I nodded.  "About what?"

 "Oh, you know.  Dream stuff.  Nightmares, really.  You know, monsters and dragons.  That sort of thing."

 "That would certainly explain the screaming when you woke up, sometimes." 

 I nodded sheepishly. 

 "But...did you dream this time?"  When I nodded again, he continued, "But...that's just not..."  he stopped, obviously thinking.  I waited. 

 "That's not possible!  I had the EEG running all night, and most of today.  If you'd been dreaming, I should have seen a REM sleep pattern.  There wasn't."  He looked up again.  "There's something else, I can see it on your face.  Will you tell me?"

 I bit my lip, trying to decide.  Maybe he'd lock me away in the psych ward.

  _Maybe that's where I belong_.  I finally nodded. 

 I turned my hands over, holding out my damaged palms, and pulling up the blankets so he could see my feet.  He looked at them, his face flickering from confused, to surprised, to...concerned?  Angry?  I couldn't tell.  He got up, assuring me he'd be right back, and stepped out.  He came back momentarily with an armful of supplies, and shut the door in the face of a red-faced nurse.  He settled back onto a stool, opening up supplies, and took to coating my hands and feet with a sick-smelling, greasy substance.  It took a few seconds before the pain eased off, and I smiled gratefully.  _Thank god for topical painkillers_.  He then proceeded to wash out my wounds, pulling out splinters and scrubbing away dirt, all the while muttering curses under his breath about the incompetence that no one noticing my injuries.  I got the impression it was aimed at himself as much as anyone else.  Finally satisfied, he eyed some of the larger splinters he'd removed speculatively, before raising an eyebrow and meeting my gaze.

 "Want to tell me where those all came from?  Some of the ones in your feet look like pine needles.  Where on earth would you get pine splinters?"

 "That's just it.  Nowhere.  I live here.  Downtown, even.  I haven't left the city in months.  There aren't any parks around, and even if there were...I don't make a habit of going there barefoot, in the middle of winter.  It may not be snowing yet, but...I'm pretty sure if I'd been walking around barefoot, you'd be treating frostbite, not splinters.  I don't do heavy labour.  I don't garden.  I have absolutely no idea how I could have blisters and splinters.  I...am I going crazy?"

 "If you're asking that, probably not."  He smiled.  "Crazy people are notorious for thinking they're sane.  They don't question." 

 I laughed.

 "But if you're asking that...you have some idea of how they got there, don't you.  You're afraid I'll lock you up.  Am I right?"  I looked away, miserable, finally nodding.  "I won't.  I promise.  I don't think you're crazy.  Try me, okay?"

 I let a few tears slip, before finally, finally describing my dream.  I avoided calling them darkspawn, leaving it as 'monsters', and I left out the details of the upcoming battle and the name of the king I'd heard the women discussing, but otherwise I told him everything.  The fight, the death, trying to bury all of those people.  Barefoot, because my shoes were uncomfortable and I hadn't thought to reclaim them.  I was openly sobbing by the end.  He just sat, looking confused.  I'm sure my expression echoed his, with the addition of the grief.  He finally shook his head, trying to give me a reassuring smile, and took his leave.  I cried a little while longer, and then lay in the bed, wondering when the straight jacket was coming.

 *********

 Two more boring days later, they released me from hospital again.  Nothing further had come of my tests, and my waking EEG was normal.  The doctor told me he'd spent some time looking up causes of a flat EEG, or dreaming causing injuries, but found nothing.  I could tell he was reluctant to let me go, but there was nothing demonstrably wrong with me.  Someone sick needed that bed.  So I called a cab and went home.  I convinced the cabby to stop for groceries on the way - everything I'd bought had gone missing, somehow - and I finally arrived home four days after leaving 'just for an hour'.  _What a pain._

 Within a few more days my hands and feet had largely healed.  I spent some time reading through the Dragon Age wiki, trying to find out if the events I'd been part of were in the game and I'd just forgotten, but found nothing.   I tried searching on my own to see if anyone else described out-of-body experiences that were similar, or ended up on Thedas...all I found were communities of fan fiction writers.  _Scratch that.  Not helping._   Wondering when I would black out again, I tried to ensure that I was wearing comfortable boots, and two pairs of socks, and heavy clothing at all times, in case somehow it helped the next time I was pulled to Thedas.  _So sue me.  Blisters and splinters hurt_. 

 That expanded to carrying items in my pockets that I thought would be useful if I ended up stuck there again.  Safety pins - I thought about that baby, hoping against hope he was safe.  Pencils.  Chalk.  A compass.  A Zippo lighter, full of lighter fluid, wrapped in a Ziploc bag.  String.  A tiny compact with a mirror.  A comb.  A print-out of a map of Thedas, from the wiki, also in a bag.  A small kinetic powered flashlight, and extra bulbs.  A spare pair of panties.  I briefly considered buying a taser, but how would I recharge it?  I tucked a Swiss army knife into my pants instead.  I ordered a kit for purifying water online - something to do with iodine.  I took a cab to a travel clinic, told them I was going to Africa, and got shots for everything I could think of, including updating my tetanus.  I put a waterproof mattress cover on my bed.

 The entire time, I felt like an ass for doing all of it.  Planning it, as though I could bring items with me when I was dreaming.  I did it anyway.  I had nothing to lose.  I spent the rest of the time playing the game.  _It couldn't hurt to remember the details just a little bit better..._

 The next dizzy spell hit me at home.  I was thankful.  I had just enough time to flop onto my bed, and hope for a couple of seconds that my stuff would come with me.  And then the blackness swallowed me.

 ********

 When I became aware again, I was in the woods.  Somewhere.  There was dim light, but I wasn't sure if it was dawn or dusk.  I had no idea which way I was facing, and no way to identify which woods I was in.  I listened carefully, hearing only the soft noises of birds and other small animals, and wind through the trees.  I did a quick personal inventory, shouting for joy when I found my feet in heavy boots, my own clothes, and all the treasures in my pockets.  My body had changed, like it had the last time, but somehow my dream clothes still fit my vastly different shape.  I thought about that for a few minutes, but then shrugged, recognising that I was going to drive myself mad if I thought about it too hard.  I pulled out the tiny compact, wondering what my face looked like in this new body.  I looked similar, I decided, though not quite the same as I looked at home.  This was almost... _like a prettier version of me._   My nose was a bit smaller, my cheekbones a bit higher, my eyes a bit greener.  I liked it, though it felt weird to think of myself as pretty.  My hair was about the same, dark brown, long, and bone straight.  Suddenly curious, I put a hand up to my own ear.  Round.  _I'm not an elf, clearly.  Huh._   I put the compact away.

 I noticed that it was getting lighter, so decided it must be dawn.  As the sun rose, I realised that it wasn't as bright as it should have been, due to a thick layer of mist as far as I could see.  The air smelled damp, with a slight hint of rot.  I decided to assume I was in the Korcari Wilds.  I recalled someone - was it Daveth?  Or maybe it was Maric, in the books - talking about how the mist never dissipated in the Korcari Wilds.  Using the compass in my pocket, I turned to face north and headed in that direction.  My hair was loose, so I tied it back with the string in my pockets, and pulled out a piece of chalk.  As I walked, I marked a tree with chalk every so often, just in case the compass somehow didn't work.  I found myself a sturdy walking stick, and felt very slightly better.  Not that I had a solid idea of where I was going, but doing something was better than doing nothing.  I noted, again with some delight, that this body was much better designed for travel than was my own.  I was able to keep a brisk pace, even with having to scramble through the woods at times, without wearing myself out too much.  As I walked, I tried looking for familiar landmarks from the Korcari Wilds in the game, but wasn't able to fully convince myself of anything.  _Pixels don't exactly give you the true picture of a place_.  So I walked.  And hoped, fervently, not to run into any darkspawn.  Or wolves.  Or anything else that wanted to eat me.

 I looked for water as I walked, but found nothing I would even consider trying to drink; it was all muddy puddles and greenish-tinged muck.  I supposed it wasn't that bad a thing - going to the bathroom in the woods wasn't something I was finding enjoyable.  Leaves are far inferior to toilet paper, and I had taken to drip-drying whenever possible.  _Ick._

 Eventually I stumbled on a clearing, obviously the scene of a recent battle.  The stench was vile, and as I scanned the area I found several darkspawn corpses, left where they'd been killed.  Many of them had obvious knife or sword wounds, a few with arrows protruding.  I scavenged a sword, which was heavier than it looked, but somehow I felt better for being armed.  Not that I had any idea how to swing a sword.  I recalled hearing somewhere that you shouldn't carry a gun unless you were quite proficient in how to use it, lest it be used against you.  I hoped that the same could not be said for a sword.  I carried on, more convinced than ever that this was the Korcari Wilds.  Unless this was much later in the Blight than I hoped, it should be the only place with darkspawn, and I thought I knew who might have been tromping through these woods killing them off with swords not too long ago, too.

  _Oh God, Ostagar_.  It all came rushing back, and suddenly I realised I needed to bloody well hurry.  If I was going to assume that this was real, and not a dream, and I wanted to change the outcome in some way, I needed to get to Ostagar before the battle, and hope to hell I could find some way to convince Duncan, or Cailan, or someone, to change the battle plan before everyone was, well, dead.  Even if it was a dream, a happier ending would perhaps decrease the chances of me waking up screaming.  _Right.  Walk faster, Sierra._

 I was able to advance more quickly, finding that I could follow a trail of darkspawn corpses.  The smell was so rank, much worse than normal decay, that I had no trouble finding the site of the next skirmish, and the next.  I was following the trail the wardens had taken through the Wilds.  I hoped it would lead me to Ostagar, not to Flemeth.  _Ugh, Flemeth_.  I shook my head and kept walking.  Even Flemeth would be better than stumbling blind - perhaps I could convince her to help.  I thought about that for a moment.  _Or perhaps not._  

 I was headed uphill, as well as north, and that seemed right, from what I could remember.  I actually found the place where the group of warden recruits would have come across a dying soldier, recognising it by the number of mangled, obviously human remains.  Feeling slightly sick, I continued north, knowing I had to be close to Ostagar.  I finally glimpsed the wall of pikes I recalled passing through in the game, and knew I had found my destination.

 Ostagar was much larger than it appeared in game.  I supposed that shouldn't have been a surprise.  _How much walking around, just to get from one tent to the next, do you really want to do in a computer game?_   The ruin was enormous, and I found myself wondering exactly how many men had camped here. 

 The gate wasn't guarded.  That was the first thing that worried me.  I was quite sure that, prior to the battle, there were guards.  _Not good._

 I crept through the gate, looking around warily.  There were a few people around, but none of them looked like soldiers.  Most were rushing around, and none seemed to notice me.  I decided to approach the first elf I found, hoping that they'd be less likely to question my clothes, more likely to help.  I felt guilty for that, but knew that any humans I ran into were likely to demand that I tell them who I was, and how I'd gotten there, whereas an elven servant might just let it pass since I was a human.  I wandered through the camp, gawking at the ruins.  I'd never really travelled far from home, never seen ancient ruins, and the scale of the buildings that once must have stood here was staggering.

 I finally managed to identify an elf, rushing through the camp.  She was a tiny thing, a good 6 inches shorter than I (not that I was completely sure how tall this body was), with dark hair.  I tried not to stare at her delicate, pointed ears - I was prepared for them, I had thought, but the reality was a bit more than I expected.  I thought they were quite beautiful, actually, but dragged my gaze off them to look the nervous young woman in the eye.

 "Excuse me.  Could you answer a question for me, please?" 

 She jumped, quickly averting her eyes, her fair skin blushing slightly.  She stared briefly at my sword, then looked away.  She nodded, but did not answer. 

 "Where is the army?  The Grey Wardens?"

 She looked up in surprise, then, but glanced away again quickly.  "They've gone to fight, my lady."

 I swore under my breath.  "How long ago did they march?"

 The confused expression became more noticeable, but she answered me.  "Two hours ago.  Or so.  My lady."  She dared to look in my eyes for a moment.  "Is my lady...feeling quite alright?"

 "Sierra.  Please...just call me Sierra.  I am...no.  Not alright, really.  Look.  I need to find the army.  I need to catch up to the King.  I need a few supplies, first.  Can you help me?  Please?  It's very important."

 "What do you need, my lady?"  I grimaced.  "Beg pardon.  Sierra."  I smiled.

 "I need a waterskin.  Some food.  Non-perishable.  Maybe some rope, and a dagger.  And something to carry it in.  Can you do that for me?" 

 "Yes, my...Sierra.  Right away."  I tried to look reassuring.  She smiled, just slightly, and led me towards a large tent, standing empty.  She grabbed a large waterskin, checking to see if I wanted it full - I nodded, and she slipped it into a cloth bag.  She picked up a handful of paper-wrapped parcels, food I assumed, and added them as well.  I had found a weapon rack on the back wall, and chose myself a wickedly sharp dagger in a sheath.  I grabbed some leather straps, and tied the sheath to my thigh.  Somehow, I suddenly felt very Lara Croft.  I almost giggled out loud, stifling it before the poor woman helping me had to wonder further about my sanity.  I turned, just as she was stuffing a length of rope into the pack.

 "My...Sierra.  I don't mean to be impertinent, but...are you going to pay for these things?"  I blinked, not even thinking that this was likely the quartermaster's tent, and of course, the supplies weren't free.  _Stupid._   I had nothing to pay with, and if I took these things, even if by force, I knew this poor woman would think she would lose her job, if not worse.  Of course, I knew the quartermaster wasn't going to be back, but... _oh, inspiration._

 "I'm a Grey Warden.  Can you add up the total, please, and I'll just sign for it on Duncan's bill?"  She nodded, obviously relieved.  I scrawled my name, with a quill of all things, getting ink all over my sleeve.  I tried to pretend I hadn't noticed.  I'm sure I failed.  I took the pack from her, slinging it inexpertly across my shoulder. 

 "Alright..."  I looked at this woman, and remembered coming back to Ostagar, after the battle, in the downloadable content in the game.  I knew she was going to die, along with anyone else left behind.  "Listen to me.  I'm a Grey Warden.  I want you to...talk to the other people remaining here in camp.  Anyone who will listen.  I want you to tell them to grab as much food as they can carry, and leave.  Now.  Head north, but avoid Redcliffe and Denerim.  Don't stop until you're well north of Lothering.  Leave as soon as you can, and don't look back.  Anyone who stays here will die.  Do you understand?  You must take what you can, and go."  Her eyes got larger and larger as I spoke, panic appearing on her face.  I put my hands on her shoulders, trying to look reassuring.  I wished I'd taken drama in school.

 "You've got a bit of time."  _I hope._   "But don't wait too long.  Tell whomever you can, then go.  Promise me."  She finally met my eyes full on, examining my expression as though trying to see right through me.  I knew I was sincere; I hoped she saw it as well.  She finally nodded.  I patted her shoulder, then took my leave in the direction that she indicated the army had travelled.

 I hurried through the rest of the ruins as fast as I could, frantically thinking.  Did I go after Alistair, or the rest of the army?  If the battle was already underway, a field of darkspawn was perhaps not the place for me to be.  But if I went to the tower of Ishal, there were no guarantees that Flemeth would save me along with Alistair and whoever the new recruit was.  Thinking about Flemeth decided me.  Alistair would be safe; I'd take my chances trying to catch Duncan and Cailan.  Maybe I could change the outcome of the battle.  Maybe...it wasn't too late.

  _Please, let it not be too late._

 


	3. Changing History

# Chapter Three: Changing History

 I found the path the army had followed onto the field around Ostagar.  Loghain's army had turned off, to head up to the cliff; that I knew.  Instead, I went down.  As I walked, I started to hear a faint noise.  At first I couldn't identify it, but after a bit, as it grew louder, I realised what it was.  Screaming.  The sound of metal clashing on metal.  Swords hitting shields.  Oh God, the battle had started.  _What on earth am I doing down here?  I have no place in a battle.  I barely know how to hold the sword I am carrying.  What was I thinking?_

 Wait.  _What on earth?_ _I'm not on Earth anymore.  I guess, on Thedas, I just don't have much of a self-preservation instinct._  I kept moving, picking up my pace.

 The sound of battle grew to a deafening roar as I approached the rear of the army.  I swore as I realised that the army had already become disorganised, and instead of a united front, darkspawn squared off against individuals and small groups, fighting back-to-back, desperate.  I'd read a forum that claimed that the reason Loghain left the King to die was that he realised that he couldn't be saved - that due to poor tactics, Cailan had left him no choice.  I was indignant, when I read that, completely unwilling to admit that Loghain might be anything other than the evil bastard I thought he was.  For the first time, I wondered if it might be true.  I wasn't exactly a military strategist, but I was quite sure that the plan was to have the darkspawn all together, facing a united line of Fereldens, not this intermingled, chaotic swirl of violence.

  _Well, crap.  The best laid plans, and all that, right?_   I checked that the beacon on the tower of Ishal wasn't yet lit - _thank God, that means Duncan isn't dead yet, at least in theory_.  I secured my pack, hoisted that heavy damn sword, and started trying to weave through the crowd.  It was getting dark, and I couldn't decide if that was an advantage or a curse.  I took the opportunity to stab darkspawn in the back as I went, but didn't slow to engage with any of them.  Somehow, all the darkspawn I came across were miraculously...busy.  _I'll have to thank my guardian angel later_. 

 I just kept going, squeezing myself between groups of men and darkspawn.  I assumed the darkspawn didn't think of me as a threat, and in the heat of battle, there were more important things to do than spend precious time slaughtering innocents.  _Or idiots.  Whichever label worked_.  Apparently the men didn't see me as a threat either, frequently exclaiming in surprise when I scored a hit on a darkspawn about to cut off their head, or whatever.  _I probably am the only woman in this battle, I guess that shouldn't be a shock._

 As I pushed forward, the ratio of men to darkspawn began to drop.  Things were getting more dangerous for a lone woman weaving through the battle.  _Please don't die, please don't die_...I had arrived, I could tell.  I was near or at the front lines, and the people fighting desperately on either side of me were Grey Wardens, I was sure of it.  These were by far the deadliest fighters I had seen so far, blocking and parrying, cutting down darkspawn with breathtaking grace.  I was briefly distracted by the deadly beauty of the dance, but still the darkspawn seemed to ignore me.  And then, I heard the roar.  _Oh God, an ogre, what was I thinking?  There are fucking ogres up here_.

 Trying to look small and unthreatening, I squeezed further onward.  I hadn't seen the King yet, in his golden armour, but if there were ogres ahead, I knew that's where he and Duncan would be.  I caught sight of a flash of gold, peeking out from around a small knot of whirling death, and arrived just in time to see Cailan lifted, squeezed, by the largest, most gruesome monster I could imagine.  _The game sort of glossed over this a bit!_   Cailan was still alive, weakly struggling, and I could feel hostile magic in the swarm of darkspawn behind that thing.  The air fairly crackled with it, just like at the farm.  _Lovely.  Dozens of Emissaries._   I felt, more than saw, the beacon atop the tower of Ishal light, and knew I was out of time. 

 I was desperate, though not nearly stupid enough to rush an ogre, when I caught sight of someone who could be no one else than Duncan, squaring off with what must have been a hurlock alpha.  I screamed, fear and horror welling up in me…

  _I'm too late, why am I always too late?_

 …and felt something...weird.  I looked between Duncan and Cailan and saw both men enveloped in an ethereal white light, just as the ogre squeezed Cailan one last time and threw him to the ground.  All around me, Grey Wardens were dying.  I was covered in blood, none of it mine, and screaming like I would never stop, and I felt the ground shake, wondering what had exploded nearby.  But I realised that while it had messed with everyone’s balance, only the darkspawn seemed to be truly troubled by it.  It dawned on me: there must be a mage somewhere nearby.  A friendly one.  A wave of energy passed through the lines of darkspawn near me, their bodies slamming to the ground, blood bursting into the air in a red mist.  And then I was falling, and I couldn't catch myself, and _oh God, I'm going to die_.  The last thing I saw, before I blacked out, was Duncan crawling over to Cailan's still form, collapsing at his side.  But I thought, just before the darkness took me, that I could see his chest rise and fall.

  _Still breathing_.

 ********

 I woke, actually expecting to be in my own bed at home.  It seemed such a natural transition - black out in one world, wake in another.  I kept my eyes closed, thinking to luxuriate in a soft bed for a few more minutes, wondering if I'd have bruises or cuts as fallout from the insane day I had spent in Ferelden.  I certainly had a hell of a headache.  But I must have been sleeping in a weird position, or something, because my back was sore, and something hard was poking my hip, and _what sort of food did I leave rotting in the kitchen to smell like that?_   I opened my eyes and saw...blue sky.  I turned my head and groaned - there was an ogre corpse practically on top of me.  The smell started to make sense.

 Shakily, I sat up, my head clearing as the details of the battle returned.  I filed away the fact that, apparently, I could black out here without returning home, deciding to think about it later.  Somewhere that smelled better.  Looking around, I saw that I was surrounded by dozens upon dozens of corpses.  Most of them were darkspawn, but there were many people as well, and I just couldn't look at them, or I'd start screaming again.  Nothing on the field was moving.  There weren't even birds, and I figured that probably, even vultures were too smart to eat anything coming from this tainted cesspool.  _Wait.  Do they have vultures in Ferelden?_

 I stood, my legs unsteady, but finally able to get the vantage point I needed.  The last time I saw Duncan and Cailan was...over _there_.  I headed in the appropriate direction, eyes skirting around the mangled remains I was stepping over, until I found them.  Duncan had made it to Cailan's side, sword still in hand.  They were both bloody, and I stifled my horror to lean down and touch Duncan's face.  It was warm, and he twitched with the slight contact.  I screamed, clapping my hand over my mouth a second later, embarrassed.  _The living aren't supposed to be what's freaking you out right now.  Keep it together, Sierra._   Stepping around Duncan, I bent over to do the same for Cailan.  I had to kneel to get the right leverage to shove his dented helm up to expose skin, but his breath briefly misted the metal surface, and I smiled.  I had just witnessed that the events of the game could be changed.

 My wandering eyes noted a mangled piece of human flesh, and my momentary elation faded.  It hadn't changed enough, apparently.  These two may have been saved, somehow...but the fact that no one had checked for survivors meant there still wasn't anyone left standing at the end of the battle.  I slumped down, a sob welling in my throat, when I heard a quiet groan.  Duncan stirred, and I repressed the sob to crawl over and kneel beside him.  His eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a few moments, and then with a grunt, he rolled over.  Right into my lap.  I swore, his armour digging into my thigh, but managed to catch myself before I fell back.  His eyes snapped to my face, finally clear, but clearly confused.  I extricated my leg from under him, knelt beside him with another pained oath, and offered him my hand.  I pulled him up to sit, watching as he turned his head to see the rest of the battlefield.  His gaze settled on Cailan, and I hurried to reassure him.

 "He lives, Duncan.  I don't know how badly he is injured - well, frankly, I don't know how badly you are injured, either, but he's still breathing."  Duncan looked back at me, eyebrows pressing together.

 "You have me at a disadvantage, my lady.  Might I know your name?  And how I, or rather, we, survived...this?" 

 "Sierra.  My name is Sierra.  And I have absolutely no idea, to be honest.  I was looking for you, but I got here too late, and then I blacked out."

 "Yet somehow, I still live, as does the King.  Unless there is someone else around I should thank, you appear to be the one to be grateful to." 

 "Um.  Well.  You're welcome, I suppose."  I smiled, but those eyebrows remained furrowed, his gaze shifting to take in my jeans, boots, and coat, and my smile faltered.

 "I'm quite certain I would have remembered you, had we met.  May I ask how you know my name?"

 "I, uh.  Well."  _Sonofa_...I had tried, but never did manage to come up with a convincing explanation for my presence here.  "That's a bit of a long story.  I think we should probably have that discussion somewhere safer.  And preferably cleaner.  And perhaps once we know how badly you and Ca...the King are injured.  Yes?"

 His words said "Fair enough," though his eyes told me he wasn't fooled for a minute.  _Well, damn.  Wish I'd been born more creative._   I nodded, in silent recognition that we were going to have a very pointed discussion, once we were safe.

 "So," I asked, "uh...are you injured?"  Duncan looked to be doing the same internal survey I had done upon waking. 

 "I think I may...have a broken leg.  And I recall being hit by an axe, but I don't appear to have a hole in my chest, so perhaps I dreamed that."

 "Oh, God, really?  Wow, you are so calm.  I'd be screaming, I'm sure I would."  I babbled as I looked down at his leg, trying to distract myself from what I suddenly knew I'd see when I lifted the leg of his armour/pant things, and... _yeah, that's gross._ There was bone sticking out, just above the ankle.  My face paled, and I wondered briefly if I was going to puke.  I felt a hand on my elbow, steadying me, and looked up to see Duncan studying my face.  Again.  "Sorry.  I'm not great with, you know.  Blood.  And stuff."  I closed my eyes, willing myself to pull it together.

 "So...I'm not sure that I'm going to be able to carry you out of here.  Especially if Ca...the King is also injured.  I'm not sure what to do.  Have you got any ideas?"  _Stop trying to call him Cailan, dumbass._   _He's a king, here.  You use a title._

 "I think I've got a poultice around here somewhere."  Duncan patted his belt, reaching in to pull out a piece of linen cloth, wrapped around a small vial of something red.  He handed it to me, and I took it, eyes widening in dismay.  _Pressing a hotkey for a health poultice did not prepare me for...this._

 "I...right, sorry, I've never used one of these before.  You're going to have to talk me through this."

 Duncan's gaze scrutinised me again, and I fought not to blush again, to make him even more suspicious.  He guided me through resetting the bone, basically by grabbing his foot and pulling as hard as I could - _yuck, that crunch is gross and wow, can that man scream_ \- and then to applying a few drops of the liquid into the wound directly and the rest onto the cloth, which then was tied tightly around his leg.  I watched in amazement as the skin knit together and the pain written on his face eased.  He waited a few minutes, then gingerly moved the leg.  It was...fixed.  Not for the first time, I thought that magic is amazing.  I wish we had some of it in my world.

 I helped Duncan stand, still in awe that he could go from bone sticking out to walking normally in five minutes.  Well, _mostly_ normally.  He definitely had a limp, but he was moving.  Together we leaned over Cailan.  Duncan was able to pry his helmet off, and we couldn't see any sort of head injury.  As he undid the breastplate, however, it was obvious that the ogre hadn't merely squeezed the man.  He had crushed him, right through his plate armour.  He had an indent in his chest where the armour had squished him, and on the opposite side, the skin had split, a rib poking out.  Again I fought not to vomit, but suddenly the man began to scream, and it took everything both Duncan and I had to hold him down, and the urge passed.  Duncan swiftly reached behind Cailan's belt, pulling out another poultice, repeating the steps I had taken with his.  He gave me a look, which I interpreted to mean that I was to hold him still, and Duncan pressed on the broken rib until it snapped back into place.  Cailan screamed again, thrashing, and I had to lie across him, using my entire body weight to hold down his arms.  Duncan poured in the solution, and then spread a larger poultice across his entire chest.  He moaned, as the bandage was pulled tight, and then, thankfully, passed out.

 His breathing had eased, and he now looked like he was merely sleeping.  In the middle of a battlefield full of corpses.  _Ick_.  Reassured, Duncan took a few moments to survey the rest of the field.  Still nothing moved around us, the air unnaturally still and quiet.  His eyes lit on the ogre that had nearly killed Cailan, and he walked over to remove Cailan's sword from the thing's hide.  _Ew_.  I realised I had dropped my own scavenged blade, and spent a few minutes assessing the weapons within sight.  I looked to Duncan for permission, and finally picked up a lighter, sharper looking sword that was still held by a nearby human hand.  I shuddered as I accidentally bumped the cold, clammy flesh.  I looked up, to find Duncan standing near where I'd been when I blacked out during the battle, looking around.  The confusion on his face intensified as he studied the corpses around him, and he headed towards where I remembered the magic aura coming from.  I followed behind him, studying his face instead of the grisly scene at my feet.  He didn't say anything, but I caught him looking at me quizzically a few times when he thought I wasn't watching. 

 Cailan finally stirred again, and Duncan rushed back over to him.

 "Your Majesty.  Can you hear me?"  Cailan seemed to be struggling to sit up, but Duncan held him down without difficulty.  "Don't move.  I don't know what other injuries you might have sustained."

 "Duncan?"

 "Yes, Sire.  Relax, you're safe for now.  How do you feel?"

 "Like I've been chewed up and spat out by an ogre, actually."  I couldn't help it.  I giggled.  The game didn't really prepare me for Cailan to have a sense of humour.  A wry grin spread across Cailan's face, and he opened one eye, cautiously, to peer at me.  "Off with her head.  No one laughs at me."  He winked, and even Duncan chuckled.

 "I think I'd like to recommend you not execute the person who saved us.  At least until we have a chance to question her properly.  Sire."  Cailan appeared to think about this for a moment, and then nodded, his grin widening.

 "Excellent suggestion.  What's it to be?  The rack?"

 "I'm sure your Majesty can come up with all sorts of torture later.  For now, I'm going to assume that if you're able to joke about things, you mustn't be feeling too badly.  Would you like to sit up?" 

 It took both Duncan and I hauling, but eventually Cailan was seated.  His armour though - it was a mess, dented, torn, and bent.  _Good thing I know an armourer in Denerim who can fix that_.  The thought staggered me for a minute.  For a moment, I had almost forgotten that to me, this was just a game.  I'd never actually met Wade in person.  I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to stop the thoughts.  _Think later, Sierra._

 Introductions were made between myself and Cailan.  I had absolutely no idea what to say, so I just murmured 'Your Majesty' and bowed my head.  Duncan raised an eyebrow, but neither man appeared offended, and I breathed a sigh of relief.  Cailan coughed, rubbing his filthy face with a filthier sleeve.

 "Andraste's ass, I'm thirsty."

 "Oh!  I didn't think.  Sorry, that was stupid."  I dropped the bag from my shoulder, fishing through to grab the large water skin inside.  I passed it to Cailan, who drank, then handed it off to Duncan, who in turn gave it back to me.  I drank as well, the water warm but at least moist, and put the skin away again.  Duncan took the opportunity to peer into my bag as well, noting the rations, and the rope.  He nodded, and I re-shouldered the bag.

 "I don't think it is safe to assume we are out of danger here, your Majesty," Duncan said.  "I think we should probably move as far as we are able today, put as much ground between us and Ostagar as possible.  Do you have any idea where you'd like to go initially?"

 I cleared my throat before Cailan could respond, and Duncan raised an eyebrow.  "You have a suggestion?"  I nodded, blushing.  _Damn my pasty skin_.

 "I suspect we need to get some things that his Majesty left at the camp in Ostagar, first," Cailan started, but then reluctantly nodded, "but then I would suggest we head towards Lothering.  We can probably meet up with Alistair and ...” I trailed off, realising I had no way to know which origin story this Warden came from, never mind his - her? - name.  "...the new recruit?  In Lothering."

 Duncan stared at me with narrowed eyes.  Of course.  He didn't know they lived, and had no way of knowing where they would be if they did.  I must have sounded like a lunatic in that moment.  _When we finally have time to have this conversation, I'm going to need all my wits with me for them not to dismiss me as completely insane_.  I sighed.

 "I'm sorry.  What's the new Warden's name, again?"  I asked.

 "Aedan."  Both Cailan and Duncan replied at once.  It was my turn to raise my eyebrows.

 "Aedan...Cousland?"  They both nodded, and I struggled to keep my expression calm.  For how often I played the human noble origin, this...felt like finding out I had a long lost brother, or something.  And somehow, I was relieved that it was a man.  No competition for... _Inappropriate, Sierra_.  "Right.  Alistair and Aedan survived and are currently somewhere in the Korcari Wilds.  They will eventually head to Lothering.  I know it's asking a lot, but please, trust me.  It's going to be the easiest place to meet up with them."

 Duncan gazed into my eyes for an agonising minute, silent.  Cailan seemed content to go along with whatever Duncan decided.  Finally, Duncan nodded. 

 "Lothering makes sense, as it's the nearest settlement of any size anyway, Your Majesty.  But, Lady Sierra, you are going to tell me how you know this.  And..." he pointed vaguely at the battlefield around us, "what happened here.  Tonight, wherever we camp." I nodded.  It wasn't a question.

 ********

 We scavenged a not too badly damaged set of chain armour off a nearby corpse - well, Duncan and Cailan did, while I covered my eyes trying not to retch - and left Cailan's fancy plate behind in the chest at Ostagar.  It would attract too much attention, too easily identify Cailan to anyone who thought to get themselves a ransom.  Duncan also managed to convince Cailan that he needed to change his appearance, before I seconded the point, and he agreed, reluctantly, to allow his hair to be cut.  I used the dagger strapped to my thigh, and while it wasn't anywhere near as fashionable as he might have liked, it was serviceably shaggy and changed his appearance drastically.  He looked like Alistair, I realised, and felt my stupid heart skip a beat.  _Stop thinking about Alistair like that!_  I convinced Duncan to cut his hair as well, and my dagger worked well enough for that, too.  Once Duncan shaved, I doubted anyone who didn't know them well would recognise either of them from a distance.   I mentioned shaving, and Duncan gave an exaggerated sigh.

 As I hoped, Cailan still had a key to his own chest (he’d given someone the spare, not the original, for safekeeping) and was able to recover the documents that I remember learning about from the 'return to Ostagar' downloadable content.  He was still giving me weird looks for knowing he needed to do it.

 The camp had obviously been overrun, and almost everything had been damaged or tainted.  We didn't salvage any more food or equipment except what I already carried.  I was happy to notice there were far fewer corpses than there had been people when I came through the camp the evening before, though I did realise that most of the corpses I could see were human.  No pointed ears to be seen anywhere.  I guessed the human servants hadn't been keen to listen to the poor elf who helped me.  I sighed.  Duncan commented on the low number of bodies as well, and I mentioned that I had told a servant to take as many people as she could and leave.  Duncan's eyes narrowed again as he looked at me, but I just shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.

 Duncan took the lead as we left Ostagar, Cailan trailing a little behind.  I tried to follow him, but he seemed determined to walk beside me, not in front.  Duncan's pace was a little too aggressive for much talking, and I mentally thanked whatever magic that had given me this body instead of my own - I was able to keep up, if it did leave me a bit breathless.  We nibbled on the rations in my pack as we walked, and after I had handed them out Duncan insisted he carry it for a while to give my shoulder a rest.  As the only one of us who hadn't really been injured, I objected, but he just picked it up and strode off, leaving me either to allow it or chase him to get it back.  I rolled my eyes, and Cailan laughed.

 "Never underestimate the stubbornness of a Grey Warden," he whispered, just loud enough to ensure Duncan heard him.  I snickered.

 Bathroom stops became suddenly that much worse than just peeing in the woods.  Now I had two impatient men waiting for me, so drip-drying was no longer an option.  At least so far none of the leaves I'd scavenged had been poison ivy or anything.  I hoped.

 We stopped well before dark, making camp by a small stream, in a valley between two small hills.  Duncan left me with Cailan to collect wood and try to build a small fire, while he went to go 'scouting'.  At first, Cailan tried to chat, but I was incredibly...awkward.  I didn't want to get into details of my identity and origin, as it were, until Duncan was back, and I truly had no idea how to address a King when making small talk.  I remembered not to call him by name, just barely, but that left me throwing far too many 'your majesties' into the conversation.  He probably thought I was simple-minded, if not deranged _.  I'm building a campfire in a computer game world.  Of course I'm deranged._

 I finally grabbed a small pile of twigs and dry grass, offering to light the fire if he would find some larger pieces of wood.

 "Oh good.  I hoped you would know how.  It's embarrassing, but I've never camped outside before without an army of servants to do the whole 'build a fire' thing.  I doubt I can be much help, really."

 He wandered a little way off, and I built a teepee of twigs around the pile of grass, inside a larger ring of stones, as per my vague recollection from the school camping trip we took in about eighth grade.  I checked to ensure he wasn't looking, then slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out the Zippo lighter I had hidden there.  Striking it, I lit the grass, and after a few moments of hoping, the kindling lit.  I breathed a sigh of relief and put away the plastic-wrapped lighter.  I took one small water purification tablet out of my pocket, surreptitiously adding it to the water skin, before refilling the skin from the stream.  When Cailan returned, we slowly added sticks to the fire until we had a small blaze.  Cailan looked impressed.  I blushed.  I found a rock to lean back against, pulling my knees up to my chest and letting my head fall back, closing my eyes, feigning fatigue to avoid more awkward chit chat.  Cailan lounged on his side on the opposite side of the fire, looking sad and thoughtful, in addition to bone tired.  He fell silent and let me be.  _Thank God for small mercies._

 Duncan returned after a bit, declaring us safe from darkspawn.  He was carrying a small, furry, dead animal.  Rabbit, I discovered.  I wondered if I would gag, wistfully thinking about sterile looking, plastic wrapped meats at the supermarket at home.  Duncan methodically skinned and gutted the creature and fabricated a makeshift spit, setting it to roast over the fire.  If he was surprised that between us, we had managed to light a fire, he didn't say it.  He crouched, more than sat, tensed to spring, silently staring into the fire for a few minutes.  The silence seemed almost companionable, but I knew it couldn't last.  Duncan had Questions - I could practically hear the capital Q.  I had decided that, when he asked, I would just spill the entire story, in whatever way I could think of to make it make sense, and see what happened.  Duncan finally cleared his throat.

 "So, my Lady.  I'm quite sure we have never met, yet you seem to know me, and I'm certain there were no women in the army or with the Grey Wardens.  You're not a servant; by attitude, you act like a noble, but you know how to start a fire, and you don't know how to use a health poultice.  You show up on the battlefield, apparently looking for me, in the middle of a battle that none of the three of us should have survived.  You are quite the mystery.  Care to start with who you are and where you came from?"

 "I...well.  That's sort of a big question.  First off, I'm not a lady, so you can stop calling me that.  I'm just Sierra.  I'm not from here.  From Thedas, I mean."  Cailan looked like he was about to interrupt, but Duncan raised a hand and he stopped.  "In fact, compared to here, I'm not exactly sure where I come from.  I know, that's weird.  I..."  I trailed off, thinking.  "Somehow, I came here by magic, I guess.  I wasn't planning it, but something, somehow, brought me here.  I woke up yesterday in the middle of the Korcari Wilds.

 "Where I come from is a really different sort of place.  And my people have, well, it would seem like magic, I'm sure, but it isn't quite.  There's no magic in my world, just science.  But regardless of how it works, my people have a way of seeing other places.  Like Thedas.  You just look through a special window, and can see what's happening in other worlds.  We don't have the ability to travel to them, but we can watch.  We can interact, a little bit.  It's sort of like...a sending stone?  In a limited way, we can even see into the future of the places that we watch.

 "So over the past while, I've been watching Thedas.  It's very different than where I come from, so it's interesting.  As such, I've been able to watch some of the events leading up to the ending of the Blight.  I can't see everything, and the timing of events is hazy at best, but...it means that, in a limited way, I know what's going to happen in the next year or two.  Though apparently what I know can be changed, so I'm afraid of what that means overall.

 "I had a little bit of warning I was coming here, though I didn't expect it to be like this.  I've been having these episodes.  I get dizzy, I pass out, and when I wake, I'm in Thedas.  I stay here for a while, and then eventually wake up again, at home.  I thought they were dreams, at first.  The doc...healers, at home, haven't been able to figure out what is happening.  But then, a few days ago, I woke at a farm, and had to watch darkspawn slaughter an entire family.  I tried to help, but...but...I don't know how to fight, it's not something I do at home, and I wasn't able to save them.  Except for the baby.  When it was over, I tried to bury the people - that's what we do with the dead, at home - but then I heard horses, and I hid...and when I woke, I was back at home but covered in splinters and cuts and bruises.  Dreams just don't do that!"  I was babbling, by this point, the horror of that day at the farm still fresh, tears streaming down my face.  I sniffled and wiped my face angrily on my sleeve, trying to hold it together, trying not to sound insane, but the tears just kept coming.  _Maybe I am insane.  Don't forget, that's entirely possible._

 "After that, I figured I might end up here again.  When I realised I was in the Korcari Wilds, I headed to Ostagar, since that was the only place I knew how to find.  I had no idea if it was before or after the battle.  When I saw all the darkspawn corpses in the Wilds, I knew that the Grey Warden recruits had been... "  Duncan gave me a startled look, and I realised how close I had come to revealing Grey Warden secrets.  "...scouting...so I figured it was close to the battle.  I knew what was going to happen, and I tried to get there sooner, I really did, but I wasn't fast enough.  So instead I tried to catch up to you, to convince you to withdraw or, I don't know, something, before Loghain abandoned you...but I was too late for that, too.  The battle had started, and there were so many darkspawn, and people dying everywhere...It took me forever to find you, and by the time I did, that ogre had...and then I thought I had lost you both, that I was going to have to watch you die in person, instead of, uh, through the window, and...I don't know what happened.  The ground shook, and a bunch of darkspawn died, and I figured there must have been a mage somewhere that I couldn't see...and then I passed out.  Woke up moments before you did, Duncan."

 I stopped talking, concentrating on trying not to weep.  Before the farm, I had never seen a dead body in my life.  Definitely had never seen a battle, or a darkspawn, a monster.  Playing computer games had not prepared me for the violence, the noise, the smells of people screaming and fighting and dying.  Even now that coppery scent of blood still lingered in my nose, and I wondered if it would ever go away.  Finally allowing myself to realise how dangerous, how insane this was, how incredibly stupid I'd been to wade into the middle of that battle, the tears turned into full out sobs, and I put my head on my knees and fell apart.  After a few stunned moments, it was Cailan who came over and put a hesitant hand on my arm.  When I didn't object, he put his arm over my shoulders, comforting me, and I eventually curled into his side and bawled.  I hated myself for doing it, but couldn't seem to stop.  Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, I fell asleep, my head still on the shoulder of the King of Ferelden.  _What a mind fuck_.


	4. Plausible Deniability

# Chapter Four: Plausible Deniability

 When I woke, it was dark.  I was curled in a ball, laying on the hard ground, but realised my head was pillowed somehow...

 Memories came rushing back.  O _h God, my head is in Cailan's lap_.  I briefly worried about my body, at home - two days now, at least, without food or water, lying in my own waste, unless someone had found me.  Knowing there was nothing I could do about it, I tried to put it out of my mind.  Undecided what to do, I lay still, and realised Duncan and Cailan were talking quietly.  I listened, too exhausted to bother even sitting up.

 "Her story sounds insane."

 "I know, Duncan.  But somehow I still believe her.  Don't you?  I mean, she knew about the battle.  She knew Loghain would betray us, knew we would die.  Knew all the servants still in camp would die.  Somehow, this strangely dressed woman just shows up, in the middle of nowhere, knowing the future?  I'm guessing by the look on your face she knows more about the infamous Grey Warden secrets than she's supposed to, but she doesn't know the normal things about being here.  You should have heard us talking while you were scouting.  She's quite obviously never spoken to royalty before, which isn't that unusual if she's a commoner, but then you're right - she sure acts like a noble, and none of even the minor nobility would be so confused about the protocol when speaking to me."

 "I still don't like it, your Majesty.”  Duncan sounded concerned.  “There's more to this story.  She is involved, somehow, in how we survived.  Which I'm grateful for, don't get me wrong, but she is either hiding something, or completely mad.  There's no way this girl could have found her way through the mess that battle turned into without injury unless she has some sort of skills, but she practically swoons at the sight of blood, so she's clearly no fighter."

 Duncan thought, trying to explain his concern.  "Did you see the ranks of dead Emissaries near where we woke?  There was a blast pattern, radiating out from where she must have been standing.  She killed them, I'm sure of it.  We both know the mages were way in the back, and most of them would have left with Loghain.  There weren't any with the Grey Wardens or on the front lines."

 "That's like the farm she mentioned.  I was there, Duncan.  There were dead darkspawn everywhere, and an Emissary, even.  There was an entire slaughtered family, covered with blankets, arms crossed on their chests, and a huge pit someone had dug to bury their corpses.  We didn't tell anyone about it, and sent the only survivors off to safety in the north - how would she have heard about it unless she was there?  She must have killed those darkspawn too, somehow.  Maybe she's a mage?  An apostate?  She's clearly terrified."

 "Your Majesty, I know you have a weakness for damsels in distress, but please try not to look at her like that?"  Cailan chuckled, and I felt his hand stroke my hair softly, once.  Duncan sighed.  "Being an apostate still wouldn't explain her uncanny knowledge.  I don't know if Loghain planned his treachery in advance..." the tone of this said they'd already had this discussion, possibly more than once, while I slept, "but if he did he wouldn't have let someone who knew about it slip out of his grasp.  And how does she know about Alistair and Aedan?  We didn't tell anyone he was a Cousland - you and I were the only two who knew.  Alistair didn't even know!  But she does.  Yet...no one can know the future.  Not even the most powerful magic could possibly explain what she claims to know."

 "I told you it isn't magic," I complained.  Cailan jumped at the sound of my muffled voice, and I took the opportunity to disentangle myself from him.  My face felt gritty, my mouth was full of cotton balls, and my back was sore in a way it hadn't been since I was a little girl, falling asleep in my toy box to hide from monsters.  I stretched, nodded my thanks to Duncan who passed me the water, and took a swig.  To their amusement, I also poured a small amount of water onto my hands, scrubbing vaguely at the dirt encrusted there, and then also on my face. Feeling damp but far more human, I passed the water back.  I turned to Cailan, trying to keep from blushing, and failing.

 "Thank you, Your Majesty.  For the...uh, comfort.  And the pillow."  I clasped my hands over my mouth, embarrassed anew.  Cailan threw back his head and laughed.

 "You're more than welcome.  I'm sorry you overheard us discussing that.  We should have gone out of earshot, but I didn't want to disturb you."

 "It's okay.  Neither of you have any reason to trust me, your Majesty.  You'd be perfectly within your rights to have me imprisoned, or worse."

 "We're rather short of prison cells at the moment, my Lady."  He winked at me again, and I giggled, even as Duncan snorted.  "Are you hungry?"  He gestured towards the remainder of the rabbit carcass, and I shook my head, my stomach rebelling at the thought.  _I can see eating here is going to be a problem_. 

 "If it helps, your Majesty, I will give you my oath to answer all of your questions to the best of my ability.  And to offer what meagre help I can to you both.  And hopefully in time I can prove my good intentions.  Or I'll disappear somehow, and you won't have to worry about me either way."  I didn't know whether I'd be disappointed or relieved if - or rather, when - that happened.

 "Before we get into that, I'd like to point something out.  You shouldn't be calling me 'your majesty' anymore.  Either of you."  Duncan and I both protested, but he continued anyway.

 "We've gone to some effort to hide my identity.  It would be a shame to waste it all the first time one of you bows, or calls me 'your majesty' in public, wouldn't it?  I'd hate to have cut my hair for nothing."  He ran a rueful hand over his blond mess, and I laughed again.

 "But what should we call you?  Ca...your name isn't going to be much less recognisable." 

 "You're allowed to say it, you know."  At my questioning glance, he elaborated.  "My name.  Please.  If you expect me to call you Sierra, you can at least call me Cailan."  I nodded, grateful.

 "You're right, Cailan.  This goes for you too, Duncan.  You need aliases.  What would you like to be called?  We should probably take to practicing right away."

 "Ooh!  I've always wanted an alias!  Let me think.  What name should I use?  I need something bold, a name for a handsome hero of legend, no?  What about...oh, I know!  I shall be Garahel, named after the man who killed the last Archdemon during the fourth Blight.  Perfect!"

 "Your Ma...Cailan.  If the goal is to remain unnoticed, perhaps a name that wouldn't draw so much attention?"  Duncan asked drily.  He looked somehow both amused and annoyed.  Cailan was smirking, and I realised he was baiting Duncan.  I covered a giggle with a fake cough.

 "Wasn't Garahel an elf?" 

 "Perhaps you would like to bestow our aliases upon us then, dear lady."  Cailan quirked an eyebrow, and I knew my giggle had been caught.

 "Oh God.  Uh..."

 "God?  Do you mean the Maker?"

 "Another hard question.  At home, there are many different religions, but most of the common ones near where I live just call the deity God.  There are a lot of similarities to the Maker, from what I could tell.  I'm going to need to train myself to think different curse words here."  They looked skeptical.  I ignored them, shaking my head to clear it.  "Returning to the name question.  How about something quite common, then."  I wracked my brain, looking for NPC names I'd seen but who weren't major characters.  "How about...Theron, for you, Cailan, and Duncan, you can be...Tomas?"

 I saw them both consider, then nod.  We sat quietly for a moment, but I knew it wouldn't last.  All joking aside, they still had no reason to trust me.  I hit upon an inspiration, and started unlacing my boots.  I did have a few things I could use to back up my story, after all.  I passed one to a confused looking Du...Tomas, and the other to Theron.  They both looked down, surprised, but I saw Tomas' face immediately go blank, a mask to cover what he was thinking.  Theron still looked confused, but Tomas started slowly examining the boot in detail.  I saw him look at the stitching, the leather, the rubber sole, the thick laces.  Looking back up at me, his face still guarded, I shrugged. 

 "They're quite common, where I'm from.  They're not even particularly high quality."  That got a response, though I couldn't quite read the expression.  He lifted one of the laces, and raised an eyebrow.  "Nylon.  They're made of nylon.  It's a synthetic fabric."  Theron, less practiced at schooling his facial expressions, looked even more confused.  "Man made.  The fabric is...actually, I have no idea how nylon is made, but it isn't natural.  We have a science that I guess is similar to your alchemy?  They can make all sorts of things.  Nylon is just one of them."  I forestalled his next question.  "The stitches are done by a machine, not by hand.  That is how they're so regular."  _Do they have machines here?  Hmm._   "The soles are rubber, which I think is made from the sap of some sort of tree.  Although maybe it’s synthetic too, now that I think about it.  Either way, it's incredibly hardy, and completely waterproof." 

 I took the boots back, lacing them into place, before taking off my jacket and handing it over.  Both - uh - Theron and Tomas looked at the zippers in amazement, opening and closing them multiple times.  Then they both exclaimed as I grabbed the water skin and trickled a little bit of water over the fabric, and they saw it run off without leaving the jacket damp.

 "Nylon, again, but backed with plastic.  Another man-made material, completely waterproof.  More flexible than rubber, more versatile.  You can buy a jacket like this for less than fifty dollars in any st...merchant shop.  They're made by machine and are incredibly cheap to produce."

 "Dollars?"  Theron asked.

 "Oh, right.  Um, money.  Coin.  Whatever you want to call it.  Let's see...how much would a loaf of bread cost, on average?"  I indicated a standard, supermarket sized loaf with my hands.  Theron looked embarrassed, and it didn't take much to realise why - he would have absolutely no way of knowing something like that.  I would have laughed if he didn't look so chagrined.  Tomas answered.

 "Perhaps...25 copper."

 "Okay.  Where I'm from, it would cost, say, two to three dollars.  So rough estimate, assuming the relative prices of other things are the same..."  I quickly did some math in my head.  "One silver is ten dollars.  That jacket would cost perhaps five silvers."  Both men looked at me incredulously.  "It's true!  I'm not considered wealthy, where I come from, but I have perhaps eight or ten pairs of footwear that would be similar in price to these boots, and probably six equivalent jackets.  Machines make producing these things quite inexpensive compared to having to get a cobbler to make shoes by hand, for example."  I shrugged my jacket back on, self-conscious now under two speculative gazes.

 "Yeah, okay, it sounds incredible to you, I'm sure.  But we don't have access to magic.  I mean, just think about health poultices.  Consider - in my world, you would both be dead from injuries which barely look to pain you at present.  We have our drawbacks, too."  I could see confusion warring with disbelief on both of their faces, but the disbelief seemed to be decreasing.  I hoped.

 I started emptying my pockets next.  They were both very interested in the safety pins, the compass, and even the small compact with a mirror and the plastic comb.  I showed off the flashlight, hand-charging the battery and then clicking it on, to appreciative oohs and ahhs.  _Apparently, I'm a showboat._   When I brought out the lighter, they were both amazed, and both of them managed to burn their fingers before I got it safely tucked away again. 

 "You cheated!" exclaimed Theron.  "You let me think you started the fire from scratch."  I grinned and nodded, and he laughed.

 If I thought the other items in my pockets surprised them, the printout of the map of Ferelden completely stunned them.  Though it turned out it wasn't so much the map itself as the paper it was printed on, and the type of print.  I shrugged, giving the usual response - "a machine."

 The Swiss army knife was definitely the crowd favourite, however.  I wish I knew how to make them - I'd give one to Ca...Theron, and watch his head explode.  I wondered if it would be as funny to watch Alistair with it.

 Settling down against my rock again, I watched them pass my meagre belongings back and forth.  Finally, I tucked most of them into a pouch Du...Tomas produced from somewhere, and put them in the pack, inviting both men to help themselves if they needed something.  We sat quietly again for a while, and I watched both men think.

 "So...I'm sure it will take some time, but can you both consider the possibility that I'm telling the truth about where I'm from?"  Exchanging meaningful looks, eventually Theron nodded, but Tomas studied my face while I held my breath.  One of them may be the King, but I knew whose goodwill I needed if I was going to be able to help, to influence events in any way.  _To stay alive_ , a small part of me whispered.  _Shut up_.  Finally, Duncan nodded, and I breathed a sigh of relief. 

 Duncan stirred.  "Would you explain how you know so much about Ferelden, then, in more detail?"

 "That's a hard one to explain.  I...okay.  Have you even been to see a theatre performance?  You know, actors, on a stage, acting out a story?"  Both men nodded.  "In my world, using more of the machines I keep trying to explain, we have found a way to record such performances.  And using yet another machine, those performances can be watched again, from home, through the window I told you about.  It's a form of entertainment.  Mostly they are dull, someone's idea of an epic romance or whatever.

 "In this case, it is a little different.  I'm forced to assume that someone else either dreamed of this place, in amazingly accurate detail, or visited here.  They created a version of Ferelden as one of these performances.  It starts at Castle Cousland, when you rescued Aedan from Arl Howe's betrayal.  It follows Aedan as he and Alistair have to combat the Blight, alone.  But this performance is a little bit different than most.  Using the window and a sort of sending stone, you can actually influence the decisions that Aedan and Alistair make.  You can help them decide where to go and who to talk to.  In this way, I witnessed the entire Blight through the eyes of Aedan.  It ends when the Archdemon is dead."

 "But...why?"  asked Theron.

 "Why what?  Why do people watch?  Another hard question."  I debated.

 "Why did you?"

 "Oh...a lot of reasons, I suppose.  One was boredom.  I lost my job - my employer went out of business - and I was having a hard time getting a new one.  So I was at home, alone, and bored.  Also, it's a sort of escape - my life is very safe, for which I am thankful, but very...dreary.  And very lonely.  It was an easy way to have something more exciting.  'Be a hero!  Meet interesting people!  Have an adventure!'  But never have to give up the comforts of home.  It seemed so harmless.  I didn't know it was real.  I thought it was just a performance."

 "So have other people watched our...performance?"

 "Yes.  Thousands upon thousands of people.  It's very popular."

 "I am almost afraid to ask.  In the performance...what happens?"

  _Oh boy_.  "Well...okay, so...Duncan rescues Aedan.  He becomes a Grey Warden.  And then Loghain betrays the army, and all is lost at Ostagar.  You both...die.  There is no way to change that part of it, in the performance."

 "I feel remarkably good for a dead man!"  Theron smiled, but the expression didn't reach his eyes.  He looked...haunted.  I couldn't blame him.

 "So, anyways, Aedan and Alistair are the only survivors.  Loghain returns to Denerim and declares himself regent, and basically starts a civil war.  Alistair and Aedan end up traveling around, to Redcliffe, and to see the Dalish, and Orzammar, and even the Circle Tower, using Grey Warden treaties to get everyone to pledge their aid to the cause.  Of course, it isn't that easy, and I can go into detail later if you like, but anyway, they meet a lot of friends, finally get everyone to agree to aid them, and then challenge Loghain in the Landsmeet.  If they win, they...uh...get the chance to figure out who will rule Ferelden, and then, they battle the darkspawn, kill the Archdemon.  And then the...uh...performance is over."

 "What do you mean, they figure out who will rule Ferelden?" Theron asked, at the same time Tomas blurted out "Who killed the Archdemon?"  Theron looked angry, so I thought to answer him first.  _Oh boy_.  I looked to Tomas for help, eyes pleading.  I didn't want to out Alistair in front of his half-brother, not without talking to him first.  Tomas looked startled, briefly, but then the mask dropped back into place and he stepped in so I didn't have to answer.

 "I'm sure there would be chaos in the Landsmeet, Your Majesty, after your death," he said, carefully.  I knew he used the honorific on purpose, this time.  "If Loghain was thought to be a traitor, then Anora would lose some support, and...it would take some work to get that all figured out, I imagine."  I hastily nodded, hoping the explanation would satisfy him.  It seemed to work.   _And Alistair always thought Cailan must be so smart._

 Tomas raised his eyebrows at me, obviously waiting for my answer to his question next.  "It depends.  On what choices were made, during the, ah, performance."  I tried to indicate we should discuss it later.  He let it go, so I hoped he understood.

 "So...this time...we lived.  The battle was still lost, but...we didn't die.  What does that mean for the story?"  I looked up to find two sets of concerned, piercing eyes staring at me.  I sagged under their weight.

 "I have absolutely no idea.  I'm sorry."


	5. Keeping Secrets

# Chapter Five: Keeping Secrets

 Theron cleared his throat after a few awkward minutes.

 "One more question.  In this...performance, do you ever find out why?  Why did Loghain betray me?"

 "Not precisely.  There's a lot of debate over that issue, actually, between different people who pl...watched the performance.  Some say Loghain just went mad.  Power hungry.  Some figured that he hated you, because of some weird issue between him and your parents.  Some thought he truly did the best he could when he saw the overwhelming odds against you at Ostagar, and then went mad with guilt.  Others thought that perhaps..."  I hesitated.  _What the hell, I'm curious too_.  "...the battle didn't, uh, go according to plan, and between your line moving up too far and the beacon being lit too late, he could see that there was no chance to save you."  I could see Theron milling that over, trying to understand what I meant.  Duncan caught on quicker, his eyes flickering to my face, and he gave his head a small shake. 

  _Huh.  Thought not.  I always knew Loghain was a jerk._

 "Personally?  I think it's because of what's in those papers you recovered from your chest at Ostagar."  Now it was Tomas' turn to look confused, and Theron's turn to be surprised by what I knew.  I had noticed that Theron didn't let either me or Tomas get a look at the contents of the chest.  The secrets were starting to get difficult to work around.  Remembering to say (nevermind think) the correct aliases was also difficult. 

 I sighed.  "Look.  I think both of you have questions, or want to talk about things, that the other shouldn't know.  You know, Grey Warden Secrets, Crown secrets, that sort of thing.  And I'm sure you both want to test my knowledge of said secrets, to better determine if I'm telling the truth.  I'm thinking that either you both agree that I can spill all of the ones I know in front of both of you,” I forestalled Tomas who opened his mouth, “just wait, I didn't say that was my preferred option! - or you agree to go for a walk for a while so I can talk to you one at a time.  What do you think?"

 Both men studiously avoided looking at each other and agreed with the latter.  _It's amazing how easy it is to see what people's expressions mean when you know all their secrets!_   But first Du...Tomas requested that before we did that, I recount the battle for him, again.

 I tried to describe my horror during the battle, my fear, but my determination to figure out some way not to leave Alistair and Aedan alone to combat the Blight.  I tried to leave out my ridiculous attachment to Alistair, and I think they both were too caught up in the details to notice.  I hope.  Tomas asked a lot of pointed questions about what and who I saw, the ratio of men to darkspawn, and that sort of thing.  I tried to answer as honestly as I could, but I truly hadn't been paying attention to the details at the time.  I described seeing Cailan picked up and then thrown by the ogre, Duncan get delayed by a very large hurlock, screaming a lot, hearing the Emissaries chanting, the ground rumbling below me as darkspawn started dropping dead, and then passing out.

 "We're missing something.  I don't understand.  Why would you being there, the only thing that changed between your performance and the reality, mean that Cailan and I lived?  And from what I could see as we picked our way off the field, there were several squads of human corpses missing from the battlefield.  I think somehow, some of the squads were actually able to successfully escape, which from what you've said, also didn't happen in your performance.  Whatever that rumbling was, I think it was effective enough that the front lines held so some of the back lines were able to retreat.  But the rumbling...there were no mage corpses that I saw, and with so few mages marching with us, there shouldn't have been any near enough the front lines to do that sort of damage.  I've never seen anything like that blast pattern near where we woke.

 "I have to ask, Sierra, though I'm sincerely hoping you would have told us by now if you were, but...are you a mage?"  My jaw dropped, and I let out a decidedly unladylike snort.

 "Me?  You must be joking.  I'm from a world without magic.  Any magic.  How would I have been born a mage?  And surely I'd know if I cast some sort of spell.  Wouldn't I?"

 "I don't know, my lady.  No, no, I believe you.  If you have magic, it's as much a surprise to you as it is to us.  Perhaps we will find the explanation later.  For now, I feel the need to go for a walk.  Your m...Theron, perhaps when you are done talking to Lady Sierra, you'd be so kind as to whistle or something?"  Theron nodded, and Tomas sprang up and walked out into the night.

 Theron looked at me thoughtfully while we waited for Tomas to get far enough away.  I expected him to test me, and I wasn't wrong.

 "So...tell me about the contents of the chest." 

 I nodded.  "Correspondence with the Empress of Orlais, if I recall correctly.  Pledging military aid, Chevaliers, and Grey Wardens on request.  You were forging peace with the Orlesians."

 "And why would that make Loghain betray me?"

 "Well, in isolation, it might not.  Although maybe it would.  It's no secret that Loghain hates Orlesians with an unholy dedication.  He's the Hero of River Dane, after all.  He sees conspiracies and invasion plans everywhere, and nothing you or anyone else says will ever change his mind.  To him, the darkspawn and civil war are a minor threat when compared to Orlais.  If he thought you were going to so much as show weakness in front of Empress Celene, never mind invite parts of her military into Ferelden, there's no doubt in my mind he'd betray you.  He'd either assume you were crazy, or a traitor yourself.  Add that to the rumours about Anora..."

 "Rumours?"  His eyes were hard now, glittering in the firelight.

 "Hey, don't shoot the messenger.  I'm just repeating what I've heard.  There was a rumour circulating that you were going to put Anora aside for being barren.  And I know Arl Eamon was pushing you to do just that.  The performance never confirmed whether you were going to go ahead with it.  But even the rumours...it would have been a huge blow to Loghain, both personally and politically.  And he would have had much less influence on you suddenly, fewer ways to keep the Orlesians out of Ferelden.

 "I'm curious.  Had you decided...?"  He shook his head, his expression conflicted.  That jived with the game - it at least implied that he loved Anora, although I couldn't imagine why anyone would love that backstabbing bitch.  _Here's hoping he lives to see what she's really like._   I knew, at some point, I was going to end up getting myself in trouble by throwing my two cents in to the Royal Heir debate, but I decided to wait until I had spoken to Alistair, at least.

 "And it's not just you that he betrayed - he will arrange to have Arl Eamon poisoned, put a bounty on the heads of any surviving Grey Wardens, hire the Antivan Crows to assassinate Alistair and Aedan, and not stop Arl Howe from imprisoning and torturing Grey Wardens, templars, and nobles alike.  He is fomenting rebellion among the Circle, which will result in the loss of half the mages in Ferelden.  He will sell the elves from the Denerim Alienage into slavery to the Tevinters.  And when he loses in the Landsmeet, he will attempt to slaughter Alistair, Aedan, Eamon, and anyone else who would dare to stand up to him.  If he learns you are alive...I have no doubt that the bounty on your head will be truly breathtaking." 

 Theron swore, and I learned a few new good Ferelden curses.  "By the way.  Duncan,” _Tomas_ , “knows most of this stuff.  Not necessarily the details of the correspondence with Celene, but...he's not stupid.  And you can trust him.  You might as well just tell him.  The same goes for Alistair, and likely Aedan too."  He nodded thoughtfully, and finally whistled, loudly, and Tomas sauntered back up.  He suggested that Theron go sit by the stream, pointing off a little ways north, and then settled down onto his haunches, watching me as we waited for Theron to walk away.  _I'm not getting any better at remembering their names correctly.  Yay me!_

 I spoke first.

 "I want to thank you."  Tomas just silently raised his eyebrows, so I continued.  "I know who I need to have trust me if I'm going to get through this.  I can't fight, I can't take care of myself, and I haven't earned your trust…yet.  I have no friends, no family, and no reliable way home.  I am grateful that you are allowing me to attempt to prove myself.  I know that if you thought I was a threat, you'd have killed me the moment your eyes opened.  So...thanks."  He nodded, looking thoughtful.  "Anyways.  Go ahead and test me."

 "Tell me about Alistair."

 "Ah, Alistair.  Let me see.  Ex-templar-in-training.  Bastard son of Maric, via an elven Grey Warden named Fiona.  Raised by Eamon, told his mother was a serving woman in Redcliffe Castle.  Treated abominably by Isolde, and finally sent to the Chantry as a child when she wouldn't put up with the rumour mill anymore.  Rescued by you, requiring the Right of Conscription, before he took his vows and became addicted to Lyrium."  Duncan kept the mask on the entire time I spoke, but I saw his eye twitch when I mentioned Fiona.  _Haha, thank you David Gaider._   "Does Cailan know about him?"  Duncan twitched his head, a look I interpreted to mean he had no idea.

 "He has a minor obsession with his hair, which would appear to be hereditary," I grinned, and Duncan nodded, "an unholy obsession with cheese, thinks swooping is bad, uses jokes to avoid discussing virtually anything personal, and has a tendency to make both mages and Revered Mothers want to rip out their hair in aggravation.  He has an overwhelming need to do what is right, no matter the cost, a sense of duty I wish was more common, both in Ferelden and in my world, and yet somehow remains a sweet, somewhat naive, optimist.  He makes a much better King than Cailan ever could, despite never ever wanting to be one.  Oh, and he's a virgin.  Did I miss anything?"  Duncan levelled that speculative gaze at me again, and I suddenly realised I must have sounded like an obsessive stalker.  _God help me, it's pretty much what I am, isn't it?_

 "You may have missed handsome and charismatic.  But otherwise, no, I'd say you got it all in one."  He smirked as I blushed and hid my face in my hands.  Giving me a moment to recover, he started again.  "Tell me about Aedan."

 "I actually know less about Aedan than you would think, because for the performance, you're sort of...looking through his eyes, in a way.  So he doesn't really describe himself or give away his personality much.  But...well, he's the youngest son of Teyrn Bryce Cousland.  He grew up in Highever Castle, training with his brother Fergus in combat, although the Teyrn hoped he'd be more inclined to learn about ruling than fighting.  He has a mabari, who drives Nan nuts.  Mother Mallol ran the chapel, and a scholar named Aldous was his tutor.  On the day you met, Arl Howe was in Highever, and claimed his troops were delayed.  You were there to look into recruiting Ser Gilmore, or possibly Aedan himself.  The Teyrn sent Fergus to Ostagar with most of his men, planning to follow the next day once Howe's troops arrived.  That night, Howe attacked, killing Fergus' wife Orianna, his son Oren, and virtually every other inhabitant of the castle.  Eleanor Cousland and Aedan fought their way through the castle, finally finding the Teyrn fatally wounded.  In the end, Bryce pledged Aedan to the Grey Wardens in return for your assurances that you would help Aedan escape, and bring word to Cailan about what had happened.  And Eleanor stayed behind to protect your escape."  Duncan nodded, seeming satisfied.

 "And how did he become a Grey Warden?"

 "The joining.  I don't really know the details of the ritual - it was sort of hazy, but Aedan, Alistair, Jory, and Daveth went into the Wilds to collect Darkspawn blood for the ritual.  It was actually their trail of corpses I followed to find Ostagar.  Anyway, they were also to collect some old Grey Warden treaties that had been abandoned in a ruin in the Wilds.  They ran into Morrigan and Flemeth, who actually had the treaties in her possession." 

 Duncan sputtered, interrupting me.  "Flemeth?  **The** Flemeth?"

 "Yep.  Witch of the Wilds.  The one and only.  Oh, and Alistair likely called her daughter a sneaky Witch thief.  You should be grateful he's not a toad right now."  Duncan groaned, and I laughed.  "It's actually Flemeth who saved them after they lit the beacon at the Tower of Ishal, as well.  Anyway.  Where was I?  Oh yes.  So there's some sort of ritual where they drink darkspawn blood with a little bit of Archdemon blood mixed in.  Daveth went first, and died.  Then Jory pulled his sword and you killed him.  And then Aedan drank, and lived."

 "And what do you know about me?"  I had to think.  What did I know about him?

 "Well, you killed a Grey Warden, and were about to be executed, when you were conscripted, by your victim’s betrothed, no less.  You're now the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden.  And you realised, not so long ago, that your Calling has begun.  Alistair thinks the world of you, as do the Dwarves, the Dalish, the Alienage elves, and Cailan.  The templars and the Chantry don't trust you, because sometimes you recruit apostates, and take Circle mages from their control, and they don't like that very much.  And you stole their templar-in-training.  Other than that?  Not a lot.  In the performance...you died, early on.

 "So, before you ask, let me volunteer a few other fun facts.  Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn.  Unfortunately, the darkspawn can sense them in turn.  They have nightmares about the Archdemon, which are, unsurprisingly, worse during a Blight.  They eat more than any person has a right to, they're all but infertile, and their lifespan is shortened to approximately 30 years from whenever they joined.  After roughly three decades of being a Warden, they get the Calling.  If they don't do something about it, they start to become darkspawn, or ghouls, or something.  So instead they go down to the Deep Roads alone and try to get dead before the Taint takes over.  Unfortunately, some of them don't get dead.  They turn.  Especially those that run into the Architect.  And the females...they get turned into Brood Mothers.  Weisshaupt has tried, with some success, to hide these facts from the rest of the Grey Wardens.

 "To add to the fun, a Grey Warden is the only one who can kill the Archdemon.  And the reason for that is that the Archdemon's essence, or soul, or whatever, will live on and inhabit a new darkspawn body, unless there's a Grey Warden making the killing blow.  If a Warden kills it, the soul instead tries to inhabit the Warden, and...voila.  Mutual annihilation."

 "Voila?  You speak Orlesian?"

 "Uh, bits and pieces.  It's very similar to a language in my world.  I learned a bit as a kid.  I don't use it much though, so I'm not exactly fluent.  I'd like to just add, on a personal note: shame you for not telling Alistair about the whole Archdemon thing.  I understand why you haven't told Aedan yet...but do you realise that you just about left the fate of Ferelden in the hands of two men who had no idea that one of them would die when they faced the Archdemon?"  He had the decency to look a little guilty.  "You need to tell them, Tomas.  As soon as possible.  I know you want to shelter Alistair from that, and especially from taking the killing blow on the Archdemon, but he deserves to know.  You have to stop coddling him, and treat him like a Grey Warden."  Tomas nodded, looking resigned. 

 "Anyways.  Um...There's a Grey Warden storage sort of place behind a hidden door in a warehouse in Denerim's Market District.  Somehow Loghain found out about it, and while he left most of the stuff there, he stole the last of the Archdemon blood.  So until he is dealt with, you can't create any more Grey Wardens.

 "Oh...and Riordan, an Orlesian Grey Warden, is currently in the dungeon of the Arl of Denerim's estate in Denerim.  Or maybe he's about to be there...I admit that the timing of some of these events is a little confusing.  In the performance, they skip pesky details like weeks of walking between destinations, so I don't know exactly when all these events occur."

 "Pesky?"

 "Oh.  Right.  Um...something between irritating and unimportant for the purpose at hand.  I suppose."

 "Travel times are pesky?"

"Well...okay, if you went to see a theatre performance, where part of a story was a journey from, say, Val Royeaux to Denerim, would you want to watch every minute of people just walking along, peacefully, and then making camp, and eating food, and sleeping, and then more walking?  They just...skip ahead to the interesting bits." 

 Tomas chuckled.  "So.  Last question.  You're here.  As you've said, as far as you know you may just be dreaming.  None of this may be real.  You may be pulled back home, you may be stuck here.  But, assuming that you do stay, what do you intend?"

 "Well, I don't intend any harm to come to Ferelden, or the King, or the Grey Wardens.  I suppose that's the first place to start.  If I could, I'd...well, I suppose I'd try to end the Blight.  I'd try to put Cailan back on his throne, so Alistair doesn't have to do it.  So I guess I intend to aid those efforts, if I can.  All I can offer is information, but I will give that freely to you, or Alistair, or Aedan.  Or, I suppose, Cailan, if all else fails."

 "You could always have run.  I wonder, then, why you didn't?" 

 I nodded.  It was a logical question.  "I suppose...well, a couple of reasons.  One is that really, where could I run to?  If the Blight isn't ended, there won't be anywhere safe to go.  Another is that I'm not even sure I have the choice - I mean, ending up on a farm near Ostagar just in time to see a darkspawn attack?  Or in the Korcari Wilds, on the very day of battle?  I'm not completely sure that if I go somewhere else, try to flee, that I won't just get yanked out of this world and then dropped back wherever this magic...thing...feels I should be.  I could try to run only to end up right back in the middle of it all.

 "And, I mean...you've seen that I admire Alistair's sense of right and wrong, of duty.  Knowing what I know, knowing that if I act, do something, I can spare suffering, save lives, end the Blight sooner, prevent civil war... if I know that, and this is real, and I don't even try...what does that make me?"

 I looked up to see an expression on Duncan's (and at that moment, I couldn't see him as anyone other than Duncan) face that I assumed was something like what Alistair or Aedan must have seen when they woke after their Joining rituals.  Pride.  He reached out and squeezed my hand, briefly, and I blushed.  _One day, I'm just going to stay this colour_. 

 He whistled and Theron came back, crashing through the undergrowth in the darkness.

 "I think that soon, we should all get some sleep, but I wondered if you'd indulge me in just a few more questions, Sierra."

 "Of course, Tomas.  Hit me."

 "Hit...?"

 "Uh.  Oh.  It's a saying meaning...please go ahead and ask your questions."

 "I'm not even going to ask how that could possibly be...nevermind.  So.  You mentioned before that Alistair and Aedan are going to be heading to Lothering."

 "With Morrigan.  Yes."

 "Morrigan?  The witch?"

 "Yep.  Flemeth sends her with the boys.  She's a bit...unsociable.  But quite useful, overall."

 "Um.  Okay, so...Lothering?"

 "Right.  Well, neither Alistair nor Aedan know the best routes out of the Wilds, and Morrigan knows how to get to Lothering.  So she takes them there.  It will be absolutely overflowing with refugees, but if we hang out near the Chantry we will probably find them."  Tomas and Theron mouthed the words 'hang out' at each other, and I blushed.  "Alternatively, we can find Leliana, an Orlesian Chantry sister.  She will manage to track them down without trouble."

 "When?"

 "Well, like I said.  I don't exactly know.  I know that both Alistair and Aedan are injured, and Flemeth has to heal them.  And they should have a longer walk to get to Lothering than we do since they will be starting south of Ostagar in the Wilds.  I think.  I imagine we'll have a least a day, maybe more, before they catch up to us."  They considered that briefly.  "Can I ask a practical question?"  Both men nodded.

 "Well, I don't mean to be nosey, but...do we have any money?  I mean, uh, coin?"  Tomas admitted to having a small collection of silver, but Theron interrupted.

 "We don't need coin.  I can requisition what I need in town, and give them a token to claim what they are owed from the Royal Treasury."  I stared, open-mouthed, at the stupid, naive, arrogant...Fortunately Tomas cut in before I had the chance to say any of what I was thinking.

 "Cailan, the King of Ferelden, most certainly can do those things.  But Theron, the non-descript refugee from Blight-infested areas to the south absolutely cannot.  First of all, they'd never believe you, as you are; second, do you really want to give Loghain the opportunity to try to have you killed again?  This alias, this bluff, it is necessary.  It is the only way to keep you safe.  Until we can tell all of Ferelden what happened, you need to be anonymous.  And third - if this town is as overflowing with refugees as Sierra says, there won't be anything for you to requisition anyway.  We're going to have to hope we can buy whatever supplies we need.  So.  Do you?  Have any coin?"  Theron flushed, initially looking irritated, but more chagrined by the end.  He shook his head.

 "I wonder if these are any good here?"  I fished in my pockets some more, coming out with a decent handful of change.  I put the paper money aside - _useless_ \- and was left with some pennies, dimes, quarters, and even a couple of loonies and toonies, one- and two-dollar coins.  Tomas examined them, amazed at the clear imprinting on the coins, studying them intently.

 He pointed at the pennies, thinking they'd be good for maybe a 25 copper piece.  The dimes he figured would be worth five or ten silver each, the quarters more like 25 silver.  The loonies he thought we might be able to use as sovereigns, but he wasn't sure.  The toonies he was fascinated by, but felt no one would accept as currency.  I recalled hearing that if you froze them, you could break toonies so the inner golden-coloured disk separated from the outer silver disk, but I had no good way of freezing them.  I put the toonies back in my pocket, and told Tomas to add the rest of my change to his purse.  If the loonies would indeed pass, I had handed over about five sovereigns, a small fortune.  I made a mental note to bring more small change if I ended up back at home again.

 I thought about how we could approach Lothering as I settled down on the ground to sleep.  I automatically chose the opposite side of the fire from where Theron reclined.  Theron gave me an odd smile, from the other side of the fire, which felt decidedly...weird.  I ignored it, choosing to put my back to him and trying to relax.  Tomas had claimed he would keep watch, and was sitting on a rock a little apart from the fire.  I wasn't cold, but I certainly wasn't comfortable, and I shifted around for a while looking for a better position.  After a few minutes, I heard Theron start to snore softly.  Somehow the sound was so...homey, I finally closed my own eyes and drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! I will try to post another chapter before New Years. Please send me a note or a review and let me know what you think!


	6. Preparations

# Chapter Six: Preparations

 I woke, at home, stiff and sore in my own bed.  I was surprised to find that I was dry, no indication that I had soiled myself while unconscious.  And my pockets were largely empty, so most of the things I left in the pack must still be there.  _Good to know_.  My bladder did feel full, but not painfully so, and I rolled out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom to deal with some personal issues.  Afterwards, I stood, turning to the mirror to wash my hands, and gasped as I glanced up at myself.

 My hair was hanging off my head, dirty and tangled.  My hands and face were filthy, covered in mud, and what must apparently have been darkspawn blood was spattered across my hands and my face.  There were tear tracks apparent, leftover from my brief breakdown at camp, the only spots on my face that looked clean.  I had never been so disgusting in my life.

 I stripped bare, immediately hopping into a long, hot shower.  I scrubbed until my skin was pink, washed my hair multiple times and put conditioner in, then just stood under the hot spray until the water started to run cold.  Magic may be amazing, but nothing beats a hot shower.  I dressed myself again in warm clothes, tied my hair back with an elastic, and started a pile of items to stow in my pockets before I passed out again.  The first thing I added to the pile was a large bar of soap and a toothbrush.  While digging through my cupboards, I made a fortuitous find - a sample package that must have come in the mail or something, with a man's razor.  I added a small pair of hairdressing scissors.  I dug through my purse and added all the coins I thought would be of value.  And another clean pair of underpants.  _You can't have too many clean underpants._

 I flipped on the TV as I passed by, confirming that I had indeed been gone for two days.  I was surprised to notice that I wasn't especially hungry or thirsty, but I ate and drank anyway.  I brought in my mail, paid my bills, and put in a load of laundry, including my jeans and coat. 

 I turned on my computer, checking my email - still no job offers.  _Stupid economy_.  Though with all this blacking out, I couldn't really afford to be working anyway.  I decided to spend a bit of time researching coins.  My modern ones were all fine, but the minute someone realised they weren't really silver or copper we would be in trouble, and I didn't want to draw any attention to ourselves with strange money.  It was frustrating trying to find anything online, as they all wanted to advertise rare, expensive coins.  Finally I picked through the phone book and found a local coin dealer.  I called the store, and actually got a person on the phone.  _Impressive_.  I hit on an inspiration, and told him that I was hosting a role playing event and wanted things to be 'authentic' but inexpensive.  I was looking for copper or silver coins which would look old, but without actually costing me much money.  We talked for a bit, and it turned out he had a lot of old Roman and British coin, which wasn't nice enough to be rare, but still looked medieval.  He told me lots of it wasn't even legible, and I practically chortled - I didn't look forward to answering questions about who King or Queen or Emperor whoever was in Ferelden anyway.  He asked if I wanted it cleaned, what sizes of coin I wanted, and eventually he agreed to box up a large assortment of random copper and silver, basically worthless coin and ship it to me for a couple hundred bucks.  I paid over the phone by credit card.  _Score!_   I figured I could bring it over a few handfuls at a time. 

 I also ordered a few more Swiss army knives.  I wanted to give Cailan one of his own, and that went double for Alistair.

 Finished with gathering all the things I thought I might need, I stuffed my pockets, put on my coat, laced on my heavy hiking boots, and decided that I was ready for whenever the next blackout hit.  To my surprise, for the first time, I think I was even looking forward to it. 

 And so, I waited.  And waited.

 I stressed about how I would find Duncan and Cailan again.  I wondered what they thought of my sudden disappearance.  I thought about what we would find in Lothering.  I worried about what I'd do the next time I ended up in combat.  I briefly considered signing up for self-defense classes, or fencing or something, but figured I'd just end up passing out and getting stabbed by mistake.

 The more I thought about Lothering, the more I worried that my clothes were going to be a problem.  I needed them to feel prepared in any way, or else I needed to find armour or something, but they were going to draw a lot of attention.  No one in Ferelden wears jeans, but there was no way I was wandering around there in a dress, barefoot.  I started doing yet more internet research, and found myself staring at Halloween costumes.  Perhaps, if I found some sort of over-sized dress that would cover everything, I could blend better.  And I needed to find a cloak.  Frustrated with trying to figure it out online, I eventually dared to call a cab and venture out to find a custom tailor to sew the garments I needed.

 I used the same line about doing a role-playing event, and needing to wear warm clothing underneath a dress but still have it look passable, at least at a distance.  The dressmaker seemed to think she could pull something off, and showed me a couple of quick sketches of a simple yet elegant looking dress.  She took down my measurements, promising to call me when it was done.  I paid a fifty dollar deposit, agreeing to pay extra if the dress and cloak could be available within a couple of days, but warned her that I might be 'out of town' unexpectedly so she'd need to leave a message.

 I made it back to my house without blacking out, relieved.  After supper, I spent the rest of the evening reading the Dragon Age wiki trying to determine the timeline of events such as Eamon's poisoning, Riordan's capture, Zevran's ambush, and Uldred's attempted coup at the Circle Tower.  I was unsuccessful and finally give up in a huff.  Between unknown travel times and no forced order in which you experience the events, it just didn't seem possible.  I did notice that nothing about the wiki indicated my adventures had any effect on the game.  It still cited Duncan and Cailan as having died at Ostagar.  I finally climbed into bed, anxious and overly warm, and fell asleep.

 The next day I woke still at home, so after working on finding a job for a while, I found myself at a loss.  Somehow playing Dragon Age again, or reading the books by David Gaider, just seemed...wrong, knowing that it was actually real, but nothing else appealed to me either.  It occurred to me, as I thought about the books, that I actually didn't live all that far from where BioWare and David Gaider were located.  I spent the rest of the day, after eating, drinking, showering, and other basic necessities, cyber-stalking David Gaider.  I read every interview I could find, hoping to get a glimmer of how he developed the story, how he invented Ferelden.  Everything I could find was vague and pointed to a collaborative project between writers and game designers, but I had a hard time believing that was true.  He wrote the books.  Somehow, some way, he knew more about Ferelden.  He'd been there, even if in dreams.

 I contemplated going to Edmonton one day and trying to track him down, but didn't get very far along that thought process.  Every time I tried to picture it in my head, I ended up locked in a psych ward, or in jail for being a stalker.  I put it out of my mind and watched boring television until I finally managed to fall asleep.

 The next morning my box of coins arrived.  I spent a little while sorting through them, replacing the modern ones in my pockets with useable copper and silver coins.  Shortly after, the phone rang, and the tailor informed me my dress was ready.  Calling another cab, I went in for a fitting and found a rather perfect, thick, green, floor-length fake velvet gown.  It fit over my clothes, and while it made the sleeves look a bit rumpled, it actually worked pretty well.  Unless someone came quite close, I would look like a chubby noblewoman.  I think.  Not that I'd seen any noblewomen to compare, but it was better than wandering around in jeans.

 The cloak was even better.  Long and thick, it had a deep hood, and looked perfect over the dress.  Although I was roasting indoors, I thought I might just appreciate the warmth if I was going to try to wander all over Ferelden.  I paid the tailor, only half-listening as she told me she was giving me a discount.  Apparently she had been contemplating closing her doors for lack of business, but my dress and cloak had inspired her to wait and try to break into making authentic costumes, whether for Halloween or for Renaissance fairs and the like.  I appreciated the discount, either way, and wished her well.  I think she was surprised that I wore the dress out of the store, but I figured it was worth it if I managed to black out on the way home.

 Lucky for me, and somehow it felt like fate, I made it through the door and dropped my keys just in time to feel the world spin.  I dropped onto my bed again and let the blackness take me.

 ********

 I woke with a start.  I was lying on the ground, and someone was shaking me.

 "My lady!  Sierra!  Please.  You must get up."  I looked up blearily and saw a worried face hovering over me.

 "Dun...Tomas?  What is it?"  I sat up, my head still slightly spinning.

 "Darkspawn coming.  I can feel them."

 "Why is my timing always so terrible?"  I took his hand and allowed myself to be pulled up.  I looked down, briefly appreciating my cloak and dress briefly before realising that I really could not afford to have them covered in blood.  If we survived.  _Shut up_.  Tomas' mouth gaped open as I dropped the cloak, reached down to grab the hem of the dress and pull it over my head - I had the foresight to avoid buttons, and had the neck made elastic - and quickly rolled both dress and cloak into a small bundle.  Tomas finally shook his head and handed me the pack to stuff my things into, as well as the sword I'd scavenged in Ostagar and my dagger.  I threw the pack's strap over my shoulder - better that those who knew how to fight remain unencumbered. 

 I saw Theron standing nearby, sword and shield at the ready.  He grinned at me - _the maniac actually looks happy about this!_ \- and returned to looking around expectantly. We waited only a few moments before Tomas pointed.  A genlock archer and a hurlock were coming up around the bend.  The men pushed me to stand behind them, moving forward shoulder to shoulder, weapons at the ready.  When the hurlock paused, Theron let out a booming battle shout, and rushed at the archer as he raised his bow.  Tomas leaped towards the hurlock, catching a wicked slash of a crude sword on his crossed blades, before jumping back and slashing at the creature's abdomen.  Theron batted away a poorly aimed arrow with his shield, rushing the archer and knocking him down.  I lost track of the fight for a bit after that, glancing between both men, feeling helpless and slightly foolish standing twenty feet behind them holding a sword which I had no idea how to use.

 I realised both creatures were down, when Tomas spun, a look of horror on his face.  He shouted, but I didn't hear it - I suddenly knew exactly what that expression meant.  There were darkspawn behind me.  _I hope they find someone who can use that dress_.  I gave Tomas and Theron one last look, and turned, raising my sword in front of me.  If I was going to die, I'd at least go down flailing about ineffectually.

 There were three hurlocks charging towards me, and they were close enough that there was absolutely no way for either man behind me to get there in time.  I tightened my grip on the sword, holding it out away from me; a scream died on my lips as one after the other, the darkspawn completely ignored me.  They flowed around me, barely stepping to the sides to avoid me, my hair whipped into my face from the sudden wind of their passing.  Not one slowed to cut me down as they ran.  I spun back around just in time to hear the clash of metal against metal as the creatures engaged my new companions.  I stared in shock for just a moment before dashing forward and thrusting my sword into the back of a hurlock raising his axe to carve into Tomas.  It turned, its corrupted face registering surprise, and slowly fell.  I let go of my sword, and managed to step out of the spray of blood before I got any on me.  There was a crash as he collapsed to the ground, followed by a sudden deafening silence. 

 The three of us stood, panting, staring back and forth at each other, then down at the five corpses on the ground.  Suddenly I lurched sideways, leaning over, and retched into a small blackening shrub at my feet.  I felt a hand rest on my back, but wiped my mouth cautiously before turning to see Theron looking at me in concern.  He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and lead me back to the small camp where he and Tomas had obviously slept, assisting me as I slid to the ground, settling beside me with his arm still around me.

 "Are you alright?"

 "I think so.  Everything but my pride, at any rate.  And my formerly clean pan...small clothes."

 Theron barked a laugh.  “At least you can still joke about it!”

 “What makes you think I’m joking?” I grumbled, but I shot Theron a small smile.

 Tomas crouched in front of me, his look speculative.  "The darkspawn ignored you."

 "So I didn't just imagine that?"  He shook his head, his slight smile never reaching his eyes.

 "It was like they didn't know you were there."

 "I'm not complaining.  I have absolutely no idea why I'm alive right now."  He studied my face, finally relenting and leaning back to sit.

 "The darkspawn are all gone. I believe we are safe, for the moment.  And it appears I owe you my thanks, again.  You may not be a fighter at home, but overall I'd say you're managing quite well here."

 I blushed, still reeling in shock.  I lifted my hand and gave myself a pinch on the thigh, hard, through the denim of my jeans.  I flinched in pain.  I certainly felt real.

 "What was that about?"  Theron looked amused.

 "Something I learned as a kid.  If you think you might be dreaming, and you pinch yourself, you'll wake up.  It would seem I've lost my mind, because dreaming just can't explain all of...this."  I curled my legs in front of me, wrapped both arms around them, and lowered my head onto my knees.  "I think I'll just shake for a while, if you don't mind."

 Both men were quiet while I collected myself again.  I may have been bored at home, but this world was...perhaps a little too exciting.  I briefly prayed for a happy medium.  I finally raised my head again.

 "So...how long was I gone?" 

 Tomas had stood up and started pacing nearby, head down in thought.  Theron still rubbed my back.  "Two days.  Duncan…I mean Tomas, was so angry when he came back to camp and discovered you missing.  He spent half a day looking for a trail before finally admitting that you must have disappeared into thin air.  We stayed there for a bit, wondering if you'd show up again, but finally decided to keep moving, slowly, and hope you'd find us if you came back."

 "And I did."

 "Did you ever.  I just about screamed like a little girl when I woke and saw you lying there.  Would have completely ruined my kingly image, though, so I held it in.  Tomas had a few interesting curse words when he came back from watch and found you asleep.  I swear he thinks you're doing it on purpose just to make him crazy." 

 I laughed, shakily, the tension slowly leaking out of my shoulders as I relaxed.  It was almost like...almost like talking to Alistair at the party camp in the game.  I wondered what other similarities the brothers shared, and then blushed furiously as my mind followed that thought a bit too far.

 "I'm sorry I startled you."

 "Thank you for not saying 'scared'."  We both laughed, and I finally jumped to my feet, walking over to Tomas.

 "May I ask what you were doing for the last couple of days, my Lady?" 

 I sighed.  "Sierra, remember?  Not a lady.  Just ask my last foster mother.  Anyway, I got cleaned up, got a dress made, got some coin that might actually be useable here, and tried to find out if I had any way to nail down the timeline more specifically.  Which I don't."  I handed Tomas a couple of handfuls of coin, and he nodded appreciatively before hiding it away in a pouch he pulled from somewhere.  _The guy reminds me of descriptions of Zevran.  Pockets and hiding places everywhere._ I also showed him the razor.  He grimaced.

 "I noticed the dress.  You wear it over the rest of your..." Tomas looked down at my boots, jeans, and jacket strangely.  "...outfit?"

 "I figured that I'd be sort of noticeable, dressed like this.  You both said I act like a noble, so I got a dress that I thought perhaps a noblewoman might wear.  But if you think I'm wandering around here with just a dress on, you've got another thing coming.  So I made sure the dress would fit over my clothes." 

 "I must apologise, Sierra.  I keep confusing absence of experience for absence of intelligence.  I'm quite impressed.  The dress will draw some attention, especially away from the busier towns, but less than that costume." 

 I giggled.  I couldn't help it.  _He thinks my jeans are the costume_.  I took a deep breath.  "So...what now?"

 "We are likely about a day's walk from Lothering.  I thought perhaps we could walk rather slowly, and hope the others will catch up to us on the road.  If you don't object, I thought I'd get you to tell us a little bit more about this...performance you told us about.  And at camp tonight...maybe we can talk about how to use this a little bit."  He handed me back my sword, after wiping it off on the grass carefully.  I took it, squaring my shoulders, and started walking.

 ********

 "That bastard!"  Swore Theron, as we walked together towards Lothering.  "He uses an apostate blood mage to poison Eamon?  I'll have his head.  I'll cut it off myself."  He continued ranting, pulling slightly ahead, and Tomas and I shared bemused looks.  Listening to what was happening to Ferelden after the King's supposed death was really getting to him, and so far I'd only described Redcliffe.  I hoped that maybe hearing about it would help him mature a bit.  Between the game's portrayal and his behaviour since we'd met, I had decided that perhaps the King needed to Grow Up before being allowed to rule a country.  And maybe he'd finally listen to reason about needing an heir.  I had no interest in keeping Anora on the throne for my own reasons, but regardless of his feelings or mine, the fact was that Ferelden needed a Royal Baby, and fast.

 And the truth was, as we walked, I could feel Theron's interest in me intensifying, and I suddenly wondered if he thought I'd be a suitable mother for said baby.  He kept touching me, innocently on the shoulder or hand, when he made a joke or to get my attention to show me something, and every time I saw Tomas watching, his concerned expression suddenly covered by that indifferent mask he used to hide his thoughts.  It wasn't normal for people to touch this much in Ferelden, I was quite certain.  Especially not if those people were the very married King and an unknown, possibly insane resident of somewhere other than Thedas.  And truly, while he seemed like a nice guy overall, he was also arrogant, egotistical, unrealistic, and immature, and I certainly didn't return his level of interest.  I had no desire to be the King's mistress, or God forbid, the Queen, even if I did somehow manage to stay in Ferelden forever.  I'd never been in such an awkward situation before.  Back at home I was considered unattractive.  Fighting off interested males wasn't part of my repertoire.

 I contemplated Tomas for a minute.  He certainly had never indicated any interest in me as a woman, and as I thought about it, nothing in the game or the books indicated he'd ever had any interest in women in general.  In fact, wasn't Tomas practically the only one not getting laid in 'The Calling' when he was in the Deep Roads with Maric?  I worried about the plan that formed in my head a bit, but frankly I worried about Theron more.  I took a deep breath and strode over to take Tomas' arm, forcing him to shorten his stride a little bit or pull away rudely.  His eyes narrowed as he looked down at me, and I caught his gaze, deliberately glancing over at Theron, then back to where my arm wrapped around his, before searching his face again.  He followed my gaze, then - as he met my eyes again - comprehension and something that looked like approval flashed across his face.  He patted my fingers, and allowed me to continue to walk with him while Theron stomped along in front of us.

 Not long after, we found a decent campsite and another convenient stream, and decided to stop for the night.  I washed my hands and face with the soap in the stream, gasping as the cold water trickled down my neck.  Tomas, watching me, reached over to touch one of the drops as it fell, and I smiled up at him and took his hand to climb back to my feet.  I made another small fire, lighting it with ease using the Zippo, and Tomas again stepped out to 'scout'.  I figured he'd be back with another small animal of some sort, so I set Theron to gathering wood while I fashioned a spit as I'd seen Tomas do before.

 I was right, and Tomas returned with two small birds dangling from a rope.  I assumed they were something like pheasant, and supposed that as long as someone else plucked them, I might even be able to eat them.  Tomas indeed did the plucking when he saw me pale a little bit when he offered them to me, and I was able to set them up over the fire once he was done.  He smiled his thanks and I grinned in return.  I caught an irritated look on Theron's face as he watched us, and I suppressed a laugh.  _When you're pretty, boys are so easy!_

 Theron settled by the fire, but Tomas hauled me to my feet once more and handed me my sword.  Standing in front of me, he started telling me where to put my feet if I wanted to hit something with said weapon.  He demonstrated and I tried to copy him, and I started to realise that when not surging with adrenaline, swords are heavy.  Clearly I was going to need more upper body strength.  Joy.  I distracted myself, thinking about that for a moment, and Tomas swept his foot out in an arc that caught my ankle and tumbled me to the ground.  I landed on my ass, unhurt, my sword flying out of my hand to tumble across the grass.  I swore at him, but he helped me up and lectured me a bit on paying attention to my surroundings, my feet, and my opponent.  Embarrassed, I picked up the heavy blade, and tried again.  We didn't spar or even practice swinging the weapons we held; we just held them up, and slowly moved around, me learning how to step carefully on uneven ground without looking down, him trying to trip me at every opportunity.  By the time the fowl was cooked, I was bruised, sore, and exhausted.  Both Tomas and Theron laughed at me as I gingerly eased down onto an uninjured part of my butt.

 "I hate you both.  You know that, right?"

 "You're actually doing quite well for an adult who's never trained before, Sierra.  I know I'm being mean, but unfortunately, it's the only way for you to learn how to split your attention between your environment and your opponent.  I'm impressed you managed to avoid being knocked over at all.  We will make a fighter out of you yet."  He smiled at me, and I wondered if this look was genuine or just part of the farce I knew he'd agreed to for Theron's sake.  I blushed and smiled back, for once thanking my pasty complexion for its easy pinkness.  Theron tried to cover another dirty look with a yawn.

 Tomas stripped the meat off the bones of the birds, sharing it out between us.  I insisted he and Theron take a larger share, since they'd be doing most of the fighting, and I knew Tomas' metabolism was going to leave him hungry no matter what.  If I closed my eyes, it tasted just like roast chicken, and it was delicious. 

 Tomas informed us he'd take watch overnight, but I shook my head.

 "When did you last sleep, Tomas?"  I'd certainly noted the dark smudges under his eyes.

 "Um..."

 "Let me guess.  Ostagar?"  He nodded sheepishly.  "You need some rest.  Let me take the watch."

 "And how will you sense darkspawn?"

 "Well, let me see.  Do you sense any now?"  He shook his head.  "And I'm assuming they can't just creep close enough to kill us in a few minutes?  How far away do they have to be for you not to feel them?"

 "A couple of hours, at least." 

 "Alright, well, then I'll watch for a couple of hours.  Then I promise to wake you, and if you don't sense anything, you can go back to sleep again."

 "And if you disappear in the middle of the night again?"  Hmm.  _Damn_.  Oh wait -

 "What if I hold your arm up, like this.  Will you be able to sleep?"  I held his arm up a bit.  He nodded.  "Well, then, if I disappear, your arm will fall, and you'll wake up."  He looked at me intently, and I met his gaze with all the stubbornness I'd picked up in the foster system.  He finally nodded.

 "Are you sure?"

 "Yep.  Besides, honestly, with how sore my butt is, I won't be able to sleep anyway.  I might as well do something useful if I'm going to be awake regardless."

 Theron laughed.  "What's a butt?"

 "Oh, uh...you know.  Behind.  Rear quarters.  Ass.  Whatever you wanna call it."  My face was scarlet, and both Theron and Tomas laughed.  Tomas showed me how to tell the passage of time by the moon, and I agreed to wake him once it touched a certain tree branch.

 Both men settled down to sleep near the fire.  I propped Tomas' arm up on my lap, facing out from the fire to have some sort of night vision.  It left me sitting practically in his embrace, and I felt almost as awkward as when I woke in Cailan's lap.  I sighed, and felt Tomas squeeze my hand once, gently, as if he knew what I was thinking.  I tried to be quiet and still, and soon heard two sets of soft snores.

 Sitting watch, it turned out, is incredibly boring, if nothing happens.  At first my frantic thoughts kept me alert enough, as did the warm body curled around me on the ground.  But after a while, I had to stop thinking or else go mad, and I guess I got used to the warmth of Tomas' body.  I stared up at the night sky, trying to pick out constellations.  My familiar ones, Cassiopeia, Orion, and the Big Dipper, were nowhere to be found.  I spent some time imagining other things in the shapes of the stars, but I'd never really been much of a visual person.

 I woke Tomas at the appointed time.  He didn't sense any darkspawn, so after I crept into the bushes to relieve myself, we settled into the same position again.

 My ass really did hurt, and I spent a while simply concentrating on holding still despite the pain, then a while longer contemplating the posture and footwork I'd been learning before supper.  I'd never been graceful growing up, and while this body seemed better balanced than mine at home, I still didn't feel very light on my feet.  If I was honest, I also really didn't want to be learning how to swing a sword.  I wasn't a fighter, never even considered military service; most of the time someone having a nose bleed made me nauseous.  I didn't really want to stab things with the pointy end of any sort of weapon.  I suddenly really, really missed my safe office, my reliable desk and my meagre view from a tiny window at my former employer's place of business.  _An unemployed business consultant has no place in the middle of a Blight in bloody Ferelden!_

 By the time the first light of dawn was in the sky, I found myself drifting off, my head sagging down to my chest then springing back up hurriedly.  I unzipped my jacket to see if the cold would help, I pinched myself repeatedly, but I couldn't stay awake any longer despite all the discomfort.  The next time my head bobbed, I dropped Tomas' arm.  He startled awake, and I apologised.  Seeing me struggle to keep my eyes open, he took over watch.  He told me it was rare he slept more than four hours in a night, so he assured me he felt rested.  He crept a bit further away, and I tried to lie down and sleep.  Once I was actually allowed, however, sleep wouldn't come.

 Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was the surprised look on the hurlock's face as I stabbed it, and I startled myself awake again.  Finally, seeing me twitch for the twentieth time, Tomas moved back closer to me, sitting so I could feel his warmth against my back, and squeezed my hand.  It worked, and I fell fast asleep before he could even let go.


	7. Unintended Consequences

# Chapter Seven: Unintended Consequences

 

When I woke, that comforting presence was gone, and I wondered if I would be at home when I opened my eyes, but then I heard low voices, Tomas and Theron whispering in anger.  I couldn't hear what they said, until Theron hissed the word "fine", and then I heard him storm off, stomping and muttering under his breath.  I waited until I couldn't hear him anymore, preparing to get up, but then I heard Tomas chuckle close behind me. 

 "You can open your eyes now, Sierra.  He's gone." 

 I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and smiled at Tomas ruefully.  "Was that about me?  I hope that I haven't stirred up any trouble, Tomas."

 "Yes, I'm afraid it was about you.  And don't worry, I will manage Theron.  I admit that I'm relieved that you have so much common sense, Sierra."

 "It doesn't take much common sense to realise that I don't want to be a mistress, can't be his wife, and that I would never survive the political shitstorm of trying to be either one.  I don't exactly relish the idea of mothering the royal bastard, either."

 "I think you'd be surprised, my lady," he replied drily, and we both smirked, "at exactly how many women, even among the nobility, would give their entire family fortune for the opportunity to try.  However, I also suspect that it makes it easier to turn down the charming, handsome King of Ferelden when one's heart is...already spoken for.  Yes?"

 I looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes, frantically trying to think up convincing ways to deny it.  _Why did I have to be so damned keen to show off my knowledge of Alistair?_   He brushed my hair out of my face, and I couldn't help but look at him.  He was smiling down at me kindly, and didn't appear to be angry or offended.  I felt my face crumple, and finally just nodded.  I was entirely aware of how inappropriate my feelings were for a man I'd not even met yet, and how bad an idea it would be for me to even try to begin that relationship.  Tomas watched the emotions pass across my face.  He leaned forward, his face inches from mine, and whispered.

 "For what's it's worth, you have my blessing."  While I stared, mouth falling open in shock, Tomas winked at me and then bounded to his feet.

 "Wake up, Sierra!  We can't have you sleeping away the whole day."  He called loud enough that Theron, from somewhere nearby, came crashing back into camp.  I glared at Tomas, then tried to plaster a sleepy-confused expression on my face before Theron made it back into camp.

 "Good morning, Theron," I called as he came within sight.  He scowled, reminding me of nothing so much as a sulky child, but then managed to wipe the expression off his face and come over to sit by me.  Tomas crouched in front of us, pointedly ignoring the fact that Theron practically sat with his knee touching mine.  I mentally rolled my eyes.

 "I thought that today we should perhaps scout into Lothering and see what is happening there, maybe make sure we haven't missed Alistair and Aedan on the way here.  From what Sierra has said, I don't think we should stay in town," I shook my head in confirmation, "but we need some information."

 "I should go."  I cut him off before he could say any more.  He opened his mouth to object, but I raised my hand to silence him.  "You two may look slightly different with your fancy new haircuts, but the fact is, you're both supposed to be dead and we can't afford for rumours of either of you to circulate and get back to Loghain.  And there are some of his men already in town, harassing the townsfolk and looking for Alistair and Aedan.  No one in Ferelden knows me, and I can go there without being recognised.  There are enough templars remaining at the Chantry that I shouldn't have to fear for my safety, and it should be days at least before the darkspawn swarm this place.  I'll find out what I can, maybe see if I can buy some food, and come back."  The men looked at each other, both obviously reluctant to go but knowing I was right.  "The only concern is if I disappear again while I'm there.  So I propose that I head into town, you guys wait until tonight, and if I don't come back you can try to sneak in tomorrow."  They both finally nodded.

 "I'll get cleaned up and then put on my fancy new dress.  The only other thing, is, well... I'm going to have to act like a noblewoman, until I can get some suitable common clothing at least.  I need a name of some minor, unknown noble I can claim to be related to if anyone asks.  The daughter of a younger son, something like that.  Somewhere to say I'm from.  It has to be small enough that no one in Lothering is likely to ever have been there.  Theron, do you have any ideas?"

 "Let me think while you wash up."

 I headed to the stream, washing my hands and face thoroughly and wetting my hair so I could put it up in an updo.  _Thank God for hair that stays braided without elastics!_   It was difficult with such a small mirror and only a comb, but I was finally satisfied that it would stay.  I changed my underpants, washing out the dirty pair in the stream with the soap, and tucking them, still damp, into the pack.  I hoped neither Tomas nor Theron went looking through that pocket!  It was warm enough that I took off my bulky jacket, and slipped the dress on over just my t-shirt.  It looked far less rumpled that way, and I was again impressed at the tailor I'd found.  Even though the dress was designed for a larger body, the way it hung, meant to cover layered clothing, meant you couldn’t tell.  Lastly I added the cloak, leaving the hood back for now.

 The looks on both men's faces were priceless when I wandered back into the clearing, forcing myself to stride purposefully, keep good posture, and ever so slightly keep my nose in the air.  Clearly neither thought I could pull off looking like a noblewoman, and my anxiety eased slightly as I thought that just maybe I could fool everyone into believing.  Tomas handed me two pouches with coin, and glancing inside, I immediately understood.  One was virtually empty, holding only a couple of silver coins and half a dozen copper ones.  I was grateful to see they were actual Fereldan currency, not my Roman stuff.  The other pouch was fuller, and I laughed as Theron looked on in amazement as I tucked it securely down the neck of my dress, into my bra.  If anyone tried to rob me, they'd think the small pouch was all I had, and most of the coin would be safe.  Tomas smiled in approval as he watched me.  I left the sword, though I kept the dagger firmly tied to my thigh, invisible under the dress.

 Theron gave me a back-story.  He told me about a minor noble, a Lord William of Wentwater, in the far north, whose land was very isolated on the coast several days outside of Amaranthine.   He'd married a young commoner from the Free Marches in his later years, after his wife and son died, and then been widowed again when she died in childbirth.  He was rarely seen, refusing to come to the Landsmeet and other events, and apparently had two daughters, about my age, neither of whom he let leave the castle.  Of course this spurred a lot of rumours that he was bedding his own girls, but Theron suspected the truth was he was senile and kept his daughters close as nursemaids.  No one had reported seeing them in years, and he couldn't even remember their names, so we decided I should stick with my own.  I could claim to be running away from home, heading to Redcliffe, and that would explain my presence in Lothering.  I fixed the details in my mind, and then Tomas escorted me to within a couple of miles of town.

 Nervous, I headed toward Lothering alone. After a few minutes I came around a bend on the Imperial Highway and stopped, startled.  There were no bandits on the road, and I turned onto the ramp leading down into Lothering.  In place of the ramshackle refugee camp outside of town that I expected, there was a sea of tents, aligned with military precision, and the area was swarming with soldiers.  Some were practicing on hastily roped-off training grounds, some were marching in small units of about a dozen men, hurrying off to do...something.  Others were lounging around, polishing and repairing armour, eating, or sitting in small groups just talking.  There were women bustling around, carrying things, cooking over small fires, hanging laundry in the sun, and generally doing the day-to-day things that were needed to feed and care for that many men.

 Despite the apparent discipline within the camp, a sombre mood hung over the whole area.  All the voices seemed to be hushed whispers, with the exception of the leaders calling out orders.  The only loud noises were the clang of practice swords on shields, and the tromping of feet.  There were guards posted regularly around the edge of the camp, all of them alert and grim.  I noted an area, slightly separated from the rest of the camp, which must have been an infirmary, overflowing with men.  These men had seen battle, I surmised, and some hadn't survived.  _The missing troops from Ostagar!_

 I skirted the edge of the camp, not anxious to get close to whichever nobleman was leading this army.  My story wouldn't hold up if anyone knew of Lord William.  I tried to blend into a group of refugees, avoiding the soldiers and trudging towards the town proper.  I pulled up the hood on my cloak, hiding my fancy hairdo, and made it to the edge of town without being stopped.  Lothering was much larger than the game had implied, unsurprisingly.  However, the Chantry was visible from the gate where I entered, and I headed in that direction, hoping for information.

 There were soldiers all over the town.  Some marched in groups, and I wondered if they were meant as guards.  Other walked casually, clearly not on duty, talking and heading in and out of shops.  I avoided eye contact, and kept moving towards the building that strongly resembled a church.  Instead of a cross there was the eye and starburst thing I remembered from the game, but otherwise it looked like any rural church from home.

 I found a templar on guard outside the Chantry, and approached him nervously.  I pulled my hood back to show my face, but not enough to show my hair or allow anyone else to get a good look at me.  He looked curiously down at my dress, then offered a slight bow of his head. 

 "My Lady?  How may I assist you?"

 I asked about the soldiers, and he informed me that they were the remnants of the men commanded by Arl Bryland at Ostagar.  The name was familiar, though I couldn't place it, and I filed that away for later.  The Arl himself wasn't with the men, having left in a hurry for Denerim, leaving an underling in command.  He volunteered that the soldiers had orders to keep the peace in Lothering and assist with evacuating the entire town over the next few days.  He knew that the men had come from Ostagar, and had heard conflicting rumours about what had happened there.  Some said the Grey Wardens had betrayed the King, but others heard that Loghain had run away in fear.  Everyone agreed the King and all of the Grey Wardens were dead.  There had apparently been a couple of bar-room brawls between some random travelers and a handful of Bryland's men, and I wondered if the would-be assassins in the tavern where I recalled meeting Leliana had been chased off.  If they had, I figured I should probably try to find Leliana, because I didn't know where she would end up meeting Alistair and Aedan if not during that fight.

 I asked about the evacuation efforts, and he admitted that without Bryland's men, they'd never have been able to manage.  As it was, he thought that they just might be able to get everyone out, but everyone was worried it would take too long.  He hoped that it didn't come down to combat with the horde while refugees were fleeing for their lives.  He seemed frustrated at standing uselessly in front of the Chantry instead of doing something to help.  I was completely sympathetic.

 I asked where I might get food.  He told me that twice a day, the soldiers handed out rations to refugees in the common area, in front of the tavern.  I asked if there was any way to buy some, and he suggested I talk to whoever was in charge over by the wagons.  He pointed out the merchants in the immediate area, adding that the army had either bought or commandeered all the food they had, but left the rest of the gear for the merchants to sell.

 I asked him about Sister Leliana, and he gave me a surprised look.  He told me she was likely inside the Chantry somewhere helping out the Revered Mother.  I thanked him for all the information, and headed to a nearby merchant.  I managed to buy a couple of sturdy packs, a cook pot, some bowls and spoons, and a two extra water skins for a couple of the silver coins in my pouch.  The merchant looked far too pleased, and I realised that I'd probably paid far too much for them, but without any idea of how much things were actually worth, I couldn't haggle effectively.  I stuffed my prizes into one of the packs and headed into the Chantry.

 I immediately heard that voice I knew so well from hours in front of my PC.  I looked around, easily locating the source.  The slim redhead was near the altar, directing a couple of refugees in placing cots and bedrolls in a small space cleared of benches.  She looked exactly like she did in the game, shoulder-length hair with a small, neat braid.  Her French (or I supposed, Orlesian) accent was thick, but coming from a bilingual country, I had no difficulty understanding her.  I didn’t speak the language, but was used to hearing my language spoken in a French accent.  Some of the men seemed to be having trouble though, as one moved one way, one another, and they lost control of the cot they were lifting.  Leliana darted around them, her robes unable to hide the grace and speed of her movements, and caught the edge of the cot before it crashed to the ground.  Settling it gently to the floor, she smiled at both men in thanks and they shuffled off.

 I approached her uncertainly, suddenly unable to think of anything to say to her.  When she glanced up and saw me, she went unnaturally still, face pale as she studied mine.  She glanced about, and I saw fear on her face.  _Oh God, she thinks I'm one of Marjolaine's hirelings_.  I slowly raised both hands, keeping them still and visible, hoping I could keep her calm before something ugly happened.

 "Can we talk?  Somewhere private?  I swear I am not here to hurt you."  She studied my eyes for a moment, and then nodded, turning to lead me down a back hallway and out into a small garden behind the main building.  She stayed standing, her posture stiff, and I guessed she had a dagger palmed in each tense hand.  I kept my hands visible, put my back to the wall of the building, and sank down to sit carefully on the grass.  I stayed silent, waiting for her to speak first.

 "I...know you.  You were in Orlais.  When I was young, still living with Lady Cecilie.  But...you look the same.  Exactly the same.  How is this possible?" 

 I blinked.  She didn't think I was sent by Marjolaine.  She...saw me, when I had dreamt of her youth.  I hoped that meant she was less likely to kill me on principle.

 "You do like to start with the hard questions, don't you?"  _Oh boy_.  "Listen, I can't tell you the whole story right now.  It wasn't me you saw, not really.  It was magic, somehow.  I don't exactly understand it, but I wasn't really there.”  I shook my head, unsure of how to explain it.  I tried to change the subject.

 "I'm here, now, because of the Blight.  I know about your vision, Leliana.  The darkness, falling.  The rose that bloomed on the dead rosebush.  But...somehow I changed how things were supposed to happen.  That army isn't supposed to be out there - they weren't supposed to survive.  You were supposed to meet the last two remaining Grey Wardens and aid them during a brawl in the tavern - but now that brawl might not happen.  I'm afraid that the changes mean you won't end up finding the Wardens, and I know they will need your help if they are to end the Blight.  I know it's asking for a big leap of faith, but I'm hoping that you will consent to come with me so I can make sure you find the Wardens you were meant to aid."

 I rambled to a stop, suddenly aware that I probably wasn't making any sense.  I watched the beautiful bard's face, and realised she was much, much better than Duncan at hiding her thoughts.

 "How do you know about my vision?  How do you know what I was, or was not, meant to do?"  She still looked so tense.  _I hope I don't get to find out what the pointy end of a dagger feels like anytime soon._

 "The only answer I can give you right now is magic.  There is more to it - isn't there always - but I simply don't have time, right now, to explain it all.  I will, I promise, just not right now.  Look, there are others with me.  I left them outside town, and they are waiting for me.  I was supposed to try to buy some food, get some information, and then return to them.  I would like to request that you come with me to meet them.  If you choose not to stay, after that, you're free to walk away.  I give you my word.  I will give you my weapon; I’ll let you search me, so you know I'm not going to try to harm you.  I warn you that my companions are armed, but they will not harm you either.  I swear it."  She studied my face intently for a while, and I raised the skirt of my dress to remove the dagger I had hiding there, tossing it on the ground at her feet while I waited.

 "You are no Fereldan noblewoman."

 "You have absolutely no idea how correct you are.  I just hope that, for the sake of getting out of town unscathed, I can pretend that I am for a few more minutes."  Finally, she nodded.  Picking up the dagger, she offered it to me hilt first.  I tied it back to my leg, and then took her hand and let her pull me up.

 "I shall help you get past the soldiers and back to your friends.  I promise nothing more until you explain." 

 "Fair enough," I agreed, sighing in relief.  I realised I'd been holding my breath while I waited on her decision.  "Is there any way you could also help me purchase some food?  I just want a few days’ worth of rations for my companions."

 "I know the Sister in charge of helping to distribute the food the army has been providing the refugees.  Let's go and see what we can do."

 Leliana walked with me across the small footbridge to reach the open square.  It was full of people, most looking ragged, despondent, and exhausted.  In the centre there stood a small knot of soldiers surrounding one elderly Chantry sister.  The crowd parted at the sight of Leliana's robes, allowing us through.  She motioned for me to stop a few feet from the group, and she slipped between the armed men to reach the other woman.  They whispered briefly, and I saw Leliana squeeze her hand, nod, and slip back out.  Whether it was the robes or Leliana's skill, I wasn't sure the soldiers had even really recognised her presence.

 "We have to talk to the quartermaster over in the army camp.  If we're unlucky, we will have to talk to the lieutenant.  I need to know your cover story if I'm to be able to help you.  You do have one, I hope?"  She murmured this in my ear, and I responded in kind as we walked through town.

 "I'm Lady Sierra of Wentwater.  My father is Lord William.  I am on the run from home - I've been kept in that castle since I was a little girl, never allowed friends or suitors, and I'm going to go mad if I stay.  I have an ...uh, acquaintance, who's gone to Redcliffe to be a guard, and I'm going there to be with him.  I'm trying to travel without drawing much attention, because if my father catches me I'll never see the light of day again."

 Leliana laughed, twining her arm through mine to keep me close to her as we walked.  "And is any of that true?"

 "Well, there _is_ a Lord William of Wentwater.  And he does have daughters who he never lets out, apparently.  But the rest?  Not so much."

 We arrived at the edge of the army camp, and Leliana led me through the maze of tents and people with finesse.  We found the quartermaster, who started shouting the moment she opened her mouth and said the word food.  Backing away as he muttered curses under his breath, we exchanged a look and turned to head toward the command tent.

 Eyeing Leliana's Chantry robes, or maybe just eyeing Leliana, one of the guards outside stepped in to see if the lieutenant would see us.  We heard a barked "Come!", and she dragged me into the large tent as the guard saluted and went back outside.

 The lieutenant was a tall, handsome man with the exception of a large, angry, poorly healing scar across his face from forehead, across the bridge of his nose, and down to his cheek.  He seemed uncomfortable with it, one hand straying up to touch the edges that were the most raised and irritated.  Leliana immediately exclaimed, bearing down on him like...well, like a priest I suppose, pushing him down to kneel while she inspected the damage.  She tsk'd at him for not coming sooner for healing, and pulled out a small vial of red fluid - a health poultice - from a pocket in her robes.  She dribbled some of the fluid onto a thin strip of cloth, and proceeded to dab at the length of the cut.  He tried to stop her, but she was relentless and I had to admire her no-nonsense attitude.  In short order, the laceration was closed, the puckered and reddened skin edges fading as I watched.  Soon the scar looked several years old, just a thin white line across his handsome face.

 "Now, are there many others with unhealed wounds like this?"  She demanded. 

 The poor lieutenant under scrutiny climbed to his feet, his face red from embarrassment as he shook his head.  Leliana stroked his cheek with a smile, and the irritation faded, and suddenly I knew we would get anything she asked for.  _She's good!_

I watched, impressed, as she pled with him to buy rations for me, weaving a much more romantic tale of my flight from my oppressive father and my dashing betrothed than I'd been able to muster.  I don't think he heard a word of it, but when he’d determined all she wanted was to pay for some rations, he agreed immediately.  He thanked her, of all things, kissed her hand, bowed slightly to me, and asked the guard to take us back to the quartermaster and tell him to sell us the food.

 The guard thanked Leliana profusely for taking care of the lieutenant's injury; apparently he'd insisted everyone else get healed, but wouldn’t accept it himself deeming his wound cosmetic and therefore unimportant.  It seemed the lieutenant was well liked, and I could see why.  Leliana took my two remaining silver coins from the small purse in my cloak pocket, and haggled with the quartermaster for rations to feed us for several days, even once Aedan and company caught up to us.  I unfolded the second pack I'd bought, and Leliana carried it as we left the army camp.


	8. Mabari Endorsement

# Chapter Eight: Mabari Endorsement

 Once we got to the Imperial Highway, I lead, chatting with Leliana as we walked.  I told her about Tomas and Theron, reminding myself to be even more careful with their aliases than I already was being.  I explained that we were survivors from Ostagar waiting to meet up with three others, including two Grey Wardens - _I think the existence of a third Grey Warden should remain a secret for now_ \- and that we had a plan to defeat the Blight.

 "So, two Grey Wardens, two warriors, and a mage.  And what skills do you bring to the group, may I ask?"  I opened my mouth to admit that I really didn't have any skills, just as Theron stepped onto the path from the trees.

 "She's the brains.  At least, I'm hoping she is, because we keep following her advice."  Theron grinned, Leliana laughed, and I blushed.  I stammered out introductions, and Theron held his arm out, I think expecting me to take it.  I surreptitiously pushed Leliana forward, feeling only slightly guilty for throwing her under the bus, but she gamely took the proffered arm and Theron couldn't refuse without being rude.  I tried not to smirk.

 We walked into the trees a little ways, and Theron opened his mouth to talk just as I heard laughter, and shouting, the bark of a large dog, and that voice...that distinctive voice that I knew so well, from my own fantasies as well as the game. 

 "Theron!  You didn't tell me they'd arrived!"  I rushed forward, suddenly optimistically eager to see my fantasy brother and my fantasy man, and burst into the clearing where I'd built the fire the night before.

 First I saw a brown blur, as a growling canine creature came running at me across the camp.  I had one second to see Alistair's face - _well, that's unfair, he's even better looking in real life_ \- before I saw bared teeth, heard someone shout, and nearly soiled myself.  _Mabari are huge!_   The hound rushed up to me, stopping just short of bowling me over, looked up at me and sniffed in my direction, turned around to face towards the camp it had come from, and sat on my foot.  My vocal cords finally caught up with the rest of me, and I squawked in a combination of fear and discomfort as my foot was squished by about a hundred pounds of dog butt.  The crazy animal turned his head, licked my hand, and woofed happily, then returned to looking across the camp from his perch.

 Everyone stopped to stare.  Theron and Tomas, Morrigan and Alistair, Aedan and even Leliana.  In the game, it implied Mabari were one-person dogs.  They imprinted for life.  They didn't like anyone else until they were proven to be looking out for their master, and even then it was conditional upon good behaviour.  I had absolutely no idea what to do with the overgrown critter deciding he owned me, when I was sure Aedan belonged to him first.

 I gently extracted my foot from his hind end, trying to ignore everyone watching me as I hunkered down beside him.  I realised I didn't even know his name.  I held my hand out near him but not reaching towards him, palm up, fingers extended.  It was all I could think of to be non-threatening.  He looked over at me, hung his tongue out of the side of his mouth in a goofy smile, and then rested his snout in my hand.  I cautiously scratched under his chin, and he wagged his tail and chuffed.  I slowly brought my other hand over to pat his head, and ended up scratching behind one upturned ear.  He tilted his head with a pleased whine and closed his eyes.

 "Who's a good dog?  Yeah.  That's right.  Good dog.  I, um, I don't know your name, fuzzybutt.  However, I'm Sierra.  Thanks for the vote of confidence." 

 He opened one eye, only to roll it at me as if to say "Duh."

 "Aedan?"  I didn't stop watching the mabari, clearly enjoying the attention as I found ticklish spots on his head and down his back.  His fur was surprisingly soft, and remarkably clean for the moment.  I figured that wouldn't last long but enjoyed it nonetheless.

 I heard footsteps approach, and out of the corner of my eye saw a tall, lean, dark-haired man crouch down beside us. 

"Yes?"

 "I'm assuming you belong to this furball.  What's his name?"

 "Prince." 

 I laughed. 

 "What?"

 "I used to...dream I had a mabari too.  In my dreams I named mine Prince as well."  Prince opened his eyes, huffed at me to say "enough talking", and then thoroughly licked my face, making me sputter and curse.  Aedan cracked up, but that only lasted until Prince turned to him and repeated the same action, with the same result, and both of us shouting "Prince, no!"

 Aedan stood, and offered me a hand.  My legs were a bit numb from crouching for so long, and I needed the assist.  I finally looked up from the ridiculously self-satisfied dog to find everyone still staring at me, open-mouthed.  As I looked from one face to the next, I saw expressions ranging from suspicion and worry on Alistair's handsome face, to a slightly embarrassed, guilty look on Aedan's, to attempted indifference on Morrigan's.  It didn't take much to figure out who they'd been talking about before I interrupted their conversation.

 I did notice that Alistair had his hand on Tomas' shoulder, and looked like he would never let go.  Tomas bore an embarrassed but pleased half-grin, and I knew he was as happy to see the ex-templar as Alistair was to see him.  Alistair and Aedan were both liberally coated in gore, and I remembered the darkspawn ambush when the mabari caught up with the party from the game.  I tried to be discreet, looking at them both, but couldn't see any obvious injuries.  Morrigan, on the other hand, was clean.  And somehow dirty at the same time.  _Put on some clothes, woman!_

 I turned to Aedan, who still held my hand, and converted the assist to a firm handshake.

 "Hi.  I'm Sierra.  You're Aedan.  It's nice to meet you."  I almost told him I was sorry for the loss of his family, but figured he wouldn't want to hear it from a suspicious stranger.  "Leliana?  This is Aedan.  A Grey Warden.  Aedan, Leliana is my...friend."  _I hope_.  "I told her she had nothing to fear from you and the Grey Wardens."

 I left them exchanging greetings after that thinly veiled plea and approached Alistair.  Trying to keep in mind that I wasn't his, not in this world, and that he had every reason to think I was either deranged or evil, I kept a vacuous smile on my face, held out my hand, and introduced myself to him.  I made eye contact, and felt a bit overwhelmed.  He was way more gorgeous than in the game, but they got the expressiveness of his face dead on.  And I was right - he was _huge_.  It was hard to tell exactly when he was in plate armour, but he towered over me, and I hadn't ever thought of myself as short.  His eyebrows quirked up, and despite the obvious emotions passing across his face he tried to smile.  My mouth dried out, my tongue glued itself to my palate, and I mumbled my way through introductions to Leliana.

 Next was Morrigan.  I didn't offer her my hand, but tried to give her a friendly smile.  "Hello, Morrigan." 

 "So.  What are you supposed to be, then?  Demon?  Fade spirit?  Another apostate, perhaps?"  She was baiting me, trying to see how I'd react.  I think.  _I'd know if I was a demon, right?_   I kept my cool.  I remembered in the game always thinking you could never afford to lose your temper or be overly emotional in front of Morrigan.  _Not without paying a price_.  I heard Leliana mutter, though the rest of the group seemed unsurprised.  Clearly this was what they'd been discussing then.

 "Just Sierra, I'm afraid.  Quite boring, actually, by comparison to those possibilities!"  I heard Alistair snicker, and could picture the look on his face without turning.  _This is...surreal_.  "I'm pleased to meet you.  I wish I could have met your mother, but I didn't know how to find your home in the Wilds.  Perhaps one day I will."

 "I have never heard of a demon with polite manners.  I suppose I'll have to cross that one off the list, shall I?"  Without waiting for introductions to Leliana, or any sort of response, she turned and strode off into the bush.  After an embarrassed silence, I cleared my throat and turned back to the rest of the group. 

 "And Leliana, you met Theron already," Alistair twitched in surprise when I said the name, pointing at the individual in question, but Tomas gave him a look and he quieted down, "but this is Tomas."  He nodded at her.  "Leliana was just telling me that Loghain has set a bounty on the head of any Grey Warden brought in, dead or alive.  So you guys," I gestured to Alistair and Aedan, "need to be careful with your identities.  It's a good thing your likenesses are not well known."  I gave Alistair and Aedan a direct look, each in turn, and saw both men catch on to the silent warning I was trying to give.  I was right.  Alistair's not dumb.  Smarter than Cailan, by far.

 "So, we brought some food.  Anyone hungry?"  I gestured to the pack Leliana still carried, and then turned away from the group to quickly work the coin purse out of my cleavage.  I handed both back to Tomas, and he tucked them away somewhere faster than I could blink.  _Does he practice doing that?_   Everyone grabbed a bite, and we all ate, awkwardly, silently.  I tried to avoid feeling self-conscious despite knowing that practically everyone was either staring at me or studiously avoiding me.  Prince wandered over, after begging scraps from pretty much everyone, and settled at my feet.  _Oh good, more staring_.  I was sort of uncomfortable, and I finally shrugged off my cloak, reached down to grab the hem of my dress, and removed it, just like I had the day before.  I heard Alistair sputter until he realised I was fully clothed underneath.  It was starting to get dark and chilly.  I heard rustling, and Tomas tossed my coat at me after fishing it out of one of the packs.  I smiled my thanks and put it on, still aware of the stares.  I finally broke the silence.

 "So...who'd like to talk?  I think we should talk."  I grabbed a couple of pieces of wood to toss on the fire, then settled down to sit cross legged.  I heard Theron snort and Alistair gasp, and rolled my eyes as I switched to a more ladylike position.  _That's going to get old, fast_.  Everyone slowly took seats, with the exception of Tomas who paced nearby.  I made sure not to sit near Theron.  I finally called out, clearly but not loudly, "Morrigan?  I won't push it, but I'd love it if you would join us for this.  Otherwise everyone will assume you haven't heard it." 

 I heard some rustling in the bushes, and then her voice as she called back "One moment, please."  Tomas jumped, and I grinned.  _Shapechanging for the win_.  Morrigan emerged from the shadows and gracefully sank onto a rock; nearby, but not part of the circle.  _Good enough._

 "I'm going to explain to everyone here who I am.  Theron and Tomas have heard this story, but it's weird enough that I hope not to bore them with the repetition.  As strange as it may seem, I actually trust each and every one of you implicitly.  But there is a slight problem.  I know you all have secrets, things you don't wish to discuss with strangers, or in this group.  I know many of those secrets, and I will explain how that is so in a minute.  But I don't wish to reveal secrets that aren't mine to tell.  With Tomas and Theron, we discovered it was easier, eventually, to have some discussions one on one.  So I'm going to describe who I am, but there are going to be times where you think I'm leaving things out, or being deliberately vague.  You'll be right.  Because I'll be avoiding telling someone's secret.  So please bear with me."  I looked around at the strange collection of faces around me, getting at least hesitant nods from each one.  _It's a start_.  I took a deep breath and began.

 I repeated the story I'd told Theron and Tomas.  The theatre performance analogy, the window, the sending stone.  Watching the events of the Blight unfold through Aedan's eyes.  The dizzy spells, the dreams, then waking in the Wilds on the day of the battle.  The battle, the fear, and then finding that somehow, Theron and Tomas survived when no one else did.  Us leaving Ostagar, walking slowly to allow Alistair, Aedan, and Morrigan to catch up.  Me disappearing for two days, out of the middle of camp, with even Tomas, on watch, surprised.  Returning just as suddenly in the middle of a fight, and the darkspawn ignoring me.   Everyone asked questions, all of them good, most of them I couldn't answer.

 And then I repeated the same process with the larger group that I'd gone through with Tomas and Theron.  I passed around my boots, my coat, and my map of Thedas.  I dragged my safety pins and compass, Swiss army knife and hand flashlight out of Tomas' pack.  I flicked the lighter, asked Tomas to show them some of the money I'd given him.  At some point Theron stood, wandering around camp, watching the rest of the group watch me.

 Morrigan finally stirred, when I was done.  She stepped up behind me, and I swivelled to face her.

 "May I?"  She held out her hand, and I placed mine in it.  Suddenly Theron stepped between us, knocking aside her hand.

 "I believe her.  I saw her just appear out of thin air.  She doesn't need to be...tested, by an apostate."

 I raised my hand, lightly touching Theron's arm.  "It's okay.  I'd like to know.  If she can tell me anything about how I'm here, what magic this is, then I welcome it."  Nudging Theron out of the way, I held my hand out to Morrigan again.  "I said I trust you, and I meant it.  And Alistair?  Please don't smite anyone unless you've confirmed I'm dead.  I don't want any misunderstandings."  I heard a grumble, but ignored it, still making eye contact with Morrigan.  She took my hand, and I felt that familiar crackly aura like when I'd been near the Emissaries while they were casting spells.  I resisted the urge to twitch.  I felt more than saw a ball of energy leave her and pass into me, and I could almost feel it running through my body, up and down my extremities, giving me butterflies in my stomach, briefly making my head burn, and then it returned back through me to her hand again.  I waited with bated breath.

 "Human.  Definitely not a demon, or an abomination, and I don't feel any sign of mage power.  I'm sorry, I've no idea."

 "You sound disappointed, Morrigan.  Like I said...I'm just boring Sierra."  I was rewarded with what looked like an actual smile, for the briefest of moments, before she rose, spun on her heel, and left camp again.  I turned back to the circle, making eye contact with Alistair next.

 "Your turn." 

 He jumped as though I'd stung him.  "Me?"

 "Yes.  Smite me, or whatever it is that you do.  I want to see if you think I'm a mage.  Tomas already wondered if it was possible.  I can't imagine it is, but...frankly, stranger things have happened." 

 "I can't!  I won't.  It's painful, if I do it that way.  Even if you're not a mage."

 "But you'd be able to tell?"

 "Ye-es, I suppose, but..."

 "Please?  I need to know, Alistair.  I think we all need to know.  Tomas knocked me over a bunch of times yesterday, ask him.  I can handle a little bit of pain."  Alistair and Aedan both turned nasty glares on Tomas, and I laughed.  "He was trying to teach me how not to impale myself or drop my sword in combat.  It's not his fault I'm clumsy.  Please, Alistair?"  I'd half bum-shuffled, half crawled over to him by this point, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable as I pleaded with him.  I put my hand out, uncertain if he needed physical contact for it to work.

 "Well not here, certainly!  It'll hurt everyone, and leave Morrigan retching up her guts."  He got up, carefully, and I scrambled to my feet as well, following him out twenty feet or so from camp.  He turned to look at me, opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.  Finally his shoulders sagged.

 I felt a shockwave hit me.  It's the best description I could come up with.  It rippled the ground, raising the dust, and rocketed straight through my bones.  I was lifted slightly and propelled back a ways, landing on my back in the dirt.  I had the breath knocked out of me, and I clutched my chest for a moment before I was able to gasp a breath.  I heard footsteps, and then everyone was there standing over me.  Alistair looked sick, kneeling beside me, like he'd killed a kitten or something, and I tried my best to look reassuring.  Theron bent down, lifting me in his arms, holding me for a moment before I insisted he set me down.  I didn't miss the speculative look Aedan gave Theron and me both.

 "So?  What's the verdict?"

 "Definitely not a mage."  I was relieved and smiled thankfully at him before turning to walk back to camp.  My legs gave out from under me, and Theron caught me again, to my utter dismay.  He carried me back to the camp, setting me down near the fire.  Tomas moved over beside me to take my hand and ask if I was all right.  I squeezed back and nodded.  Alistair shouldered Theron out of the way to sit beside me and apologise effusively, and I wondered if he even thought about who he'd just shoved.  I didn't miss the daggers Theron directed at Tomas as I continued to hold his hand, though.  I got another speculative look from Aedan, and knew I was blushing again.  And then he grinned, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue, and I choked as a laugh tried to explode out of my sore chest.  That triggered yet another round of apologies from Alistair, but fortunately Tomas handed me a water skin so I could clear my throat.

 Finally I got my breathing back to normal, and realised we still hadn't discussed what I'd learned in Lothering.  I shook my head and launched into it - the presence of Arl Bryland's men, the rumours flying about who betrayed who.

 "Bryland?  These aren't his lands.  The Bann here is Ceorlic.  Why are Bryland's men here?"

 Leliana cleared her throat softly.  "Apparently the Bann withdrew with his men, leaving the common people behind.  They didn't even try to help evacuate, and in fact, left a bunch of badly wounded soldiers behind for us to care for.  When Arl Bryland marched through, he left part of his army to try to get as many refugees as possible out of Lothering.  They've been incredibly effective, and I think that, if the darkspawn hold off for two or three more days, the evacuation will be complete."

 "I'm not surprised," offered Aedan.  "Bryland is a good man.  Ceorlic is a snake."

 I mentioned the confirmation that Loghain was hunting for any surviving Grey Wardens.  Theron blew his cover multiple times, suggesting that we all just march into town and demand that Bryland's men give us a Royal Escort to get back to Denerim.  Leliana's mouth dropped open as she figured out who he really was.  Tomas and I argued with him, with even Aedan jumping in a couple of times, but I finally lost my temper.

 "His Majesty," I gave him a dirty look, and he winced, "has the ability to command us to do as he wills.  However, I suggest that he rethink how much he enjoys having his royal head attached to his royal neck.”  I stood, pacing.  “Loghain has shown that he will do anything, risk everything to ensure your death.  Are you so arrogant that you believe you can outsmart him that easily?  Do you think he doesn't have agents in every Bann's army, in every town, who will report your existence without a second thought?  If you think the bounty on the Grey Wardens is large, imagine how much he would pay to get your head on a platter.

 "Whether you like it or not, you don't have the right to go down in a blaze of glory.  You're the bloody King.  You don't take unnecessary risks with your royal person.  You don't trust in the goodwill of the average soldier, you don't announce your presence when someone is trying to have you assassinated, especially someone willing to sacrifice half of Ferelden's armies to make it look accidental.  You don't fight on the front lines, you don't face the Archdemon, and you don't ignore the people working their asses off to save your life. 

 "You haven't seen Ferelden without a clear line of succession.  I have.  I've seen the civil war, the abuse, the chaos that follows if you die.  You don't get to be selfish.  You get to stay safe inside the palace, or at the back of the army, out of harm's way, letting your men concentrate on fighting instead of worrying about keeping their King alive.  You get to die old and toothless, surrounded by grandchildren.  You don't have to enjoy it, but your people deserve it from you.

 "Do you understand that I risked dying, willingly put myself into the middle of a battle I knew in advance we couldn't win, just hoping somehow to bring you back from the dead?  Me, the business consultant, who'd never even punched someone before, never mind held a sword.  Tomas almost died for you.  Thousands of men _did_ die for you.  Some of the people standing here lost everything in the last few days, for you.  Don't you _dare_ make it all for nothing.  You don't get that right."

 Sometime during my rant I headed towards him, and was now standing directly in front of Theron, mere inches from poking his chest every time I made a point.  I suddenly realised what I had done, and, mortified at my own verbal diarrhea, I clapped both hands over my mouth, sobbed once, and then turned and ran off into the darkness around the camp.  I heard swearing behind me as I ran, and I dodged between trees and rocks as best I could in the moonlight.  I ran for several minutes, stopping only when I tripped on something in the dark and crashed down onto my knees.

 I curled up into a ball, shoulders shaking as I cried.  I tried not to, hating the tears even as they streamed down my face, but I couldn't make them stop.  I heard rustling, and felt a heavy, furry body climb over me to squirm in front of me and lay down.  I wrapped my arms around the dog and let his thick fur absorb my tears.

 I heard someone calling my name after a few minutes, and realised that I'd recognise that voice anywhere.  "I'm here, Alistair," I managed to choke out, and I heard heavy footsteps approach.  I heard him settle to the ground behind me, and slowly put his hand out to touch my arm.

 "So are you the executioner?"  I tried to laugh, but it came out a croak.  "Make it quick, please.  I'd rather not linger, if it's all the same to you." 

 Alistair chuckled, softly.  “I forgot to bring my axe.  You’re safe.”

 "Did you get the short stick, having to come find me?  I'm sorry."

 "You kidding?  Everyone is out here looking for you, with the possible exception of Cailan.  I'm just lucky enough to have found you first.  I owe you...so much.  I don't know how, but it's clear Duncan believes you saved them.  I owe you everything.”  He paused, looking at me speculatively.    

 "When you said some of us have lost everything recently, you meant me, didn't you."

 I nodded.  "Yes.  And Aedan."

 "Thank you for that.  I've never had someone get so angry on my behalf before."

 "Thank me when he agrees to go into hiding until we can safely get him back on the throne."

 "Well, if anything was going to scare him into it, I think seeing you in a rage would probably do it."

 "He needs to grow up, there's no question.  But really, you'd think I'd know by now that screaming at petulant children doesn't tend to make them do what you want them to."  Alistair barked out a laugh, and I grinned.  "I wish I had learned how to guilt people into doing things from my foster mother.  She was amazing.  She never yelled once, just gave you this face that made you feel like a terrible disappointment.  I bet that would work on him pretty well."

 "She sounds like the Revered Mother during my templar training.  The way that woman wields guilt, she should have been in the army."  We both chuckled, and fell silent again.  Finally, he stirred.  "So.  Want to go back and face the music?"

 "Not particularly.  I think I'll just lay here for a while, if you don't mind."

 "Oh, uh, okay.  Should I stay?  Or..."

 Suddenly Tomas stepped out of the shadows, and Alistair and I jumped.  He hadn't made a single sound.

 "You go back to camp, Alistair.  I'll stay here for a bit."

 "Alright, Du...Tomas."  I grinned at the same mistake I'd been making for days.

 I rolled onto my back, slightly, and poked Prince in the ribs gently.  "Go back to camp with Alistair, Prince.  Go find Aedan."  He whined, but I shooed him away, and he eventually fell in step beside Alistair as they trudged away.

 "You never stop taking care of others, it seems."  He watched Alistair disappear into the darkness, a fond smile on his face.  He settled down onto the ground beside me.  "You know the dog can find his way back to camp.  You worry Alistair can't."

 I grimaced.  "Stop doing that.  I'm trying to be all mysterious, here."  He laughed.  I sat up; running my fingers through my hair, I discovered and tried to pick out leaves and twigs that had tangled there.

 "You made quite an impression back there."

 "It was stupid.  I'm sorry.  I know it's going to make Cailan...sorry, Theron even harder for you to manage.  Honestly, sometimes that man makes me feel like we're herding cats.  He just gets under my skin!  I may not like her, but with him on the throne, Ferelden is damned lucky he married Anora, or it all would have fallen apart in weeks after his coronation."

 "It's alright.  Sometimes things need to be said.  And I might not have worded it exactly that way-“ Duncan grinned slightly, “-but I don't disagree with anything you said.  He needed to hear it, and I do actually think it will do some good.  He wanted to come out here to find you and apologise, but Aedan and Leliana cornered him and asked him to imagine what your opinion would be of the King wandering off, alone, into the forest at night, when there were other people better equipped to check on you.  He grumbled about it, but he stayed put."

 "Will miracles never cease?  Man, I knew I'd love Leliana." 

 Tomas laughed.  He reached out and took my hand, squeezing it gently.  "Sierra?  You know that I'm not...well, that I don't..."

 "...want to sleep with me?  I know."

 "It's not just you.  I'm not..."

 "...interested in women?  But what about that mage – back before you went to the Deep Roads with Maric?”

 “It’s not so much women as…well, honestly I’ve just had too much to do.  Meeting the Architect, seeing what it did to my Commander…Sex isn’t high on my list of priorities.  My life has been all about darkspawn.  And besides, I’m a hair’s breadth from my Calling – it’s not like there’s a future in a relationship with me.”

 “Don't worry.  I'm not looking to fall in love with you, just trying to avoid a confrontation with Theron."

 "I thought as much.  So, given that, it seems to me that perhaps the one thing you might need right now is some simple comfort.  And since I can't offer you tea, or a warm bath, or any of those other comforting things, I thought that maybe I could just sit with you and let you fall asleep feeling safe..."

 I leaned over and interrupted him with a kiss on the cheek.  He shuffled around to put his back against a tree stump, and lifted his arm to offer me a place to curl up.  I put my head on his shoulder, and he draped his arm around me.  I thought that his armour might make an uncomfortable pillow, but I was wrong.  _Or I just didn't care.  I'm not sure which._


	9. Earning Trust

**Chapter Nine: Earning Trust**

 I woke several hours later, Tomas still awake and still holding me.  Dawn had just begun, and the sky was beautiful in pinks and oranges.

 "No sleep again?  You be careful, ser, or I will start shouting at you in front of the entire group."  He smirked.  I kissed his cheek again, impulsively.  "You'd have made a wonderful father, just for the record."

 Tomas actually blushed.  We both worked our way to our feet, and I followed him back to the camp.  He crept over to the fire and curled up quietly to have a nap.  I nodded to Aedan, who was apparently on watch.  He gave Tomas a pointed look, then looked back at me and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.  I shook my head, miming sleep.  He made the same gesture at Theron, and I grimaced, shaking again.  He turned to look at Alistair's sleeping form, instead, and then raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

  _Great.  I met the guy five minutes ago and he can bloody tell I'm attracted to Alistair.  Note to self - learn to be a better actor_.  I shrugged, refusing to confirm or deny.  I wasn't going to admit to anything.  I turned away to hide my blush.

 Theron was sitting at the edge of camp, awake, refusing to make eye contact with me.  I walked over and sat, facing him.  I waited for a moment to see if he would look at me, but he refused.  I opened my mouth to apologise, but he spoke first.

 So.  Duncan, huh?"

 I was speechless.  _So not where I expected this conversation to go._

 "I guess I get it.  I hear lots of women like older men.  And, you know, he's a Grey Warden, and it's so... _romantic_."  He put a strange emphasis on the last word.

 "Your Majesty..."

 "Don't, Sierra.  Please.  Just for five minutes, can't it be just Cailan?"

 "Just Cailan, then.  It's not like that."

 "What is it like, then?  I have so much more to give you, you know.  Anything you want, you'd just have to ask.  What does he have to offer that I don't?"  If I couldn't hear the hurt in his voice, I'd have laughed.  ‘ _Just Cailan’ my ass_.

 "So you've decided then that I am a whore?  That I sell my body for things, or for power?  That I should use sound, logical, business sense to decide who I will be with?  With you, I'd have access to money, be able to influence the running of the country, so I should pick you instead of someone else?  I feel so very...valuable, right now."  I kept my voice quiet.  _One screaming fit per twenty-four hour period only._   Besides, I knew that he was just being a hurt child, and that he hadn't thought through the implications of what he was saying.  I could be patient with that for a little bit.

 "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

 "I do know it, but do you?  Are you sure?  I do know what this is for you.  I'm an unknown.  I'm mysterious, a damsel in distress.  And you've probably never been told no by a woman in your life.  You are fascinated by the mystery, but we both know this isn't love, 'Just Cailan'.  We've only known each other for four days!

 "And even if it were, try to think about this from my point of view for a moment.  You're married.  So maybe you put aside Anora, and maybe you don't.  But even if you do, I'm not Queen material.  I don't have the skills, don't have the pedigree.  I'll shout at all the nobles in the Landsmeet and offend them all completely.  I don't even know if I'll stick around - maybe I just disappear for good, next time.  There is no way that you could ever have me as your Queen. 

 "So I'd have to be your mistress.  And then what?  Live in the palace?  Anora would have my head.  So I'd get a room somewhere, and have to sneak in to the palace to see you.  Wait weeks between visits when you're busy with affairs of state.  And do what, while I'm waiting?  I don't exactly knit.  So I spend all my time waiting for word that I can sneak in five minutes with you, risk getting caught and you being forced to end it with me, or being manipulated and used by political rivals in various schemes, or getting kidnapped for ransom.  And then, one day, I get pregnant.  And then I'm raising a royal bastard, torn between the fear that you'll love your legitimate children more - or that you won't and my children become pawns in someone's political game.  And some day, maybe something like Ostagar happens, and you and whatever legitimate heirs you have die, and my poor kid is being put on the throne against his will just to keep the great Calenhad bloodline going.

 "What, exactly, can you offer me, 'Just Cailan'?  You can't even offer me fidelity."

 Cailan stared at me for a moment, his face red.  "Wow.  You really must hate me."

 I reached out and touched his cheek, gently.  "I don't, Cailan.  I actually like you, most of the time.  You're handsome, you're funny, and you're caring.  I think if you tame some of your impulses, you could be a truly amazing leader.  I will do anything I can to help you get back on your throne, to help you find happiness.  But you won't find happiness with me.  I'm just not capable of giving you that.

 "For the record, no, not with Duncan either.  He's an adoptive father for me.  I'm not bedding him, nor will I ever.  I promise."

 "You spent the night alone in the woods..."

 "He sat watch, and I cried on his shoulder.  That's it.  I swear.  Armour makes a better pillow than you might think."

 He seemed to accept that, and some of the unhappiness on his face eased.

 "So do you think...could we be friends, instead?  Or maybe, could I be like an honorary sister?  I promise to always see you as ‘Just Cailan’, even when protocol dictates I don't say it out loud, and you promise to keep that sense of humour going, and we both have someone to turn to when we just need to talk or whatever?  Could we do that?"

 He hesitated for a moment, then nodded.  "I'd like that.  I've never had a sister."

 "Cailan, about last night..."

 "You were right.  About everything."

 "I wasn't.  Some of it, sure, but...you didn't ask for any of this either, and you're trying to put up with an intolerable situation.  I was angry, and well, scared.”  I ran a somewhat shaky hand through my hair.  “I need you to survive, Cailan.  I've seen what happens if you don't.  Promise me you'll listen to Duncan, let him keep you safe?  If you promise to listen to him, I promise never to shout at you again.  In public, at least."

 "I can live with that.  I'd hate to have to use that rack after all."  I giggled, and it felt good to laugh.  He took on a mischievous expression.  "So, if you're my sister, now, does that mean I can do this?"  Cailan grabbed me in a sudden headlock, and then used his knuckles to mess up my hair and rub my scalp.  I squealed, reaching down and finding a small handful of mud, turning to smear it on his face when he let me go.  He roared, and I jumped up, running away before he could get me back.  He chased me, and we woke the rest of the camp laughing as Prince joined the game, jumping and barking as I hid and he tried to catch me.

 Alistair sat up, looking grumpy, complaining loudly.  "Maker's ass, couldn't you make up a little bit later in the day?"

 I finally collapsed down by the packs, digging through one to find a small hunk of cheese I'd noticed at supper last night.  After I handed it over, Alistair forgave me, too.  _It's going to be a good day._

 ********

Once everyone was awake and fed, we all gathered near the fire to plan.  Morrigan was even present, to my surprise.  She'd spent the night as a bird, watching but not participating.  It seemed...lonely _.  I feel sorry for Morrigan?  Huh._   Everyone wanted time to talk to me one on one, to test my assertions that I knew them, to ask about the future.  And I had no desire to go back to Lothering, so that worked for me.

 We needed more supplies if we were going to be traveling, and we needed time to plan where to go first.  I knew that plan wouldn't be cemented until everyone had convinced themselves that I knew as much as I said I did.  I also knew we had one more companion in town to pick up before we left, and had to hope to find Bodahn and Sandal despite the changing events.

 Since Theron, Tomas, and Morrigan would probably be better left outside of town in case they were recognised, we decided that I would spend a bit of time talking to Aedan, Alistair, and Leliana, then they would head into town and I would remain with the others.  So while everyone else sat patching armour, cleaning weapons, or just trying to relax, I found myself wandering out into the woods with Aedan and Prince beside me.

 First he asked me to tell him what I knew about him.  I reminded him that I had seen the events through his eyes, so didn't really get the opportunity to know his thoughts or learn his secrets like I did everyone else.  But then I recounted all that I could remember of the human noble origin.  We talked about Mother Mallol, and the scholar Aldous; meeting Duncan and being informed that Aedan wouldn't be accompanying the army.  His father's nickname for him - 'pup'.  Fighting giant rats with Prince and Ser Gilmore in the pantry.  Aedan got an interesting look on his face when I mentioned Roderick - _Rory, apparently, for short_ \- Gilmore, but I couldn't read it.  Then running into Lady Landra and her son.  Darren?  _Something like that_.  Saying goodbye to Fergus, and finally going to bed, only to be woken by fighting.  Eleanor in armour, realising the men attacking were Howe's men.  Finding Orianna and little Oren, even Lady Landra.  Fighting through to Ser Gilmore, and leaving him to die trying to hold the gates while Aedan and Eleanor ran in search of Bryce.  Finding Bryce in the pantry, dying, Duncan confirming he wouldn't survive trying to flee.  Duncan's agreement with Bryce that Aedan join the Grey Wardens, and Eleanor deciding to stay behind and defend their retreat.

 Aedan broke down and cried, and I wrapped my arms around him.  I knew this was likely his first chance to mourn them.  I held him, slowly sinking to the ground while he sobbed.

 "I left them.  I should have stayed.  I should have fought.  Mother, and Father, Rory...I just walked away and left them!"

 I stroked his short dark hair, feeling him shake as he sobbed.  I whispered the platitudes I knew wouldn't help, but I tried anyway.  When he finally looked up, I wiped his tears with my sleeve and he kissed my cheek.

 "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

 "Don't tell them what?  That you're human?  I think they believe you about that, even if they don't all believe me." 

 He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  "So...what becomes of Highever, now that the last Cousland had to renounce my claim to the title?"

 "Oh, no!  Aedan, I am such an idiot.  I completely forgot, you don't know.  You're not the last Cousland.  Fergus is alive.  He was scouting in the Wilds, and I think, maybe got injured, but...actually, I don't know the details, but he survived.  In the...performance, he made it to Denerim after the Archdemon was defeated, and became Teyrn of Highever."

 "Truly?  Maker, you don't know how happy I am to hear that!"

 "Maybe we can try to find him sooner, since we know.  Not that I have any idea where he is, or anything.  If I end up disappearing again, I'll try to find out."

 Then we talked about Ostagar - the Wilds trip, the Joining, Daveth and Ser Jory.  The fight to reach the top of the tower of Ishal.  The ogre.  Then being overrun by darkspawn and waking up in Flemeth's hut.  Thinking, at least for a while, that he and Alistair were alone against the Blight.

 We talked a bit about his joining the Grey Wardens.  I wondered if he was bitter to be forced to join.  It turned out he'd been chafing at the bit for a while wanting to get out of the castle, and had argued with his father over not being allowed to join the Grey Wardens, especially after learning that Ser Gilmore was being recruited.  I made a mental note to learn more about Ser Gilmore eventually.  Aedan was devastated that his family had been murdered, of course, but felt gratitude, if anything, to Duncan for recruiting him.  Even more so once I told him about Fergus.  I was glad - we didn't need a reluctant hero, constantly fighting with Duncan. 

 Talking to Aedan was...easy.  I wasn't awkward, like I was around Alistair.  Not that Aedan wasn't good looking, but I just couldn't see him like that.  He wasn't looking at me like that, the way Theron did, either.  It was like we had been friends forever.  By the time we got back to the camp, we were teasing each other and laughing.  I could still see the sorrow in his eyes, but it seemed less heavy, somehow.  Maybe it was just knowing there was one less soul to haunt him.

 Once in camp, Leliana grabbed me and dragged me off into the woods also.  I gave Alistair an apologetic smile as I was pulled away.  She lead me deeper into the woods than Aedan had, and spent a few minutes scouting around before deciding we were truly alone.  I didn't see the black bird that was Morrigan, so I figured we were safe.

 "You might have warned me."

 "Uh...what?"

 "The King of Ferelden?"

 "Uh, well.  Yeah.  I wasn't allowed to talk about that.  I'm sure you can understand why."

 "You said you trust all of us.  Did you include me in that by mistake?"

 "No, Leliana.  In fact, I probably trust you more than most.  But it wasn't my secret to tell."

 "That's no excuse."

 "So you'd agree that it would be fair for me to inform the group that you are a bard, you started out as a spy in Orlais, and that Marjolaine, your mentor and ex-lover, is currently in Denerim, arranging to ambush us with the intent of getting you killed, just because I trust them?  Leliana.  I trust you.  They don't, yet.  They barely trust me.  And spilling secrets isn't going to improve that situation."  She stared at me for a moment, then looked away, face flushing slightly.

 "It would seem that again, you're the rational one in this little group.  However did we manage, in the performance you described, without you to make us see sense?"

 "Aedan.  He's clever."

 "Hmm.  So...you know about Marjolaine?"

 "Yes.  I know she trained you, used you, and then betrayed you.  You ran away to the Chantry to get away from that life.  But she will come after you, when you leave the Chantry.  She'll think this was some sort of strategy."

 "And does she kill me?"

 "No.  But she won't stop until you make her, Leliana.  At home, I'm sort of a pacifist.  I don't know how to fight.  It feels really strange to say this, but...when you get the chance, I urge you not to show mercy.  You'll regret it."

 "I see."

 "So will you come with us, Leliana?  Have I convinced you?"

 "I haven't decided yet.  I need to think, to pray.  I will, however, help your Aedan and Alistair in Lothering, at the very least."

 "Thank you."  I repressed the urge to hug her.  "Now, next time I disappear, if you're still with us...if I lend you a pair of scissors, will you fix Theron's and Tomas' hair?"

 "You do know how to tempt a girl!"  We laughed and headed back to camp.  Tomas was talking to Aedan, and Alistair sat looking awkward as Theron talked at him.  Morrigan was nowhere to be seen.  I rescued Alistair, giving Theron a smile.

 Alistair and I wandered through the now familiar woods, until he found us a fallen log to sit on.  He straddled it, facing me, and I sat, self-consciously, while he studied me.

 "For what it's worth, I believe you.  I'm not going to test you."

 I was unexpectedly thrilled, and had to fight the goofy smile that wanted to break out on my face.  "Why?"

 He thought about that for a bit.  "Duncan trusts you."

 "Don't.  Don't just trust me because he does.  I need you to, for yourself.  Please."

 "It's not just that.  It's also...I saw the battlefield, from the top of the tower, right before I blacked out.  I knew there was no way for anyone to survive that.  But somehow, you saved Duncan and Cailan.  To even have found them on the battlefield, you must have known the details of what would happen to them beforehand.  And any idiot can see you're not from around here.  You have strange mannerisms, strange clothes.  If it wasn't for you, I'd be alone.  I don't want to combat the Blight alone.  I'm..."

 I interrupted him.  "I know.  Not a leader.  If everyone let you lead, we'd all end up lost somewhere, and you'd discover you didn't have any pants."

 "Hey!  Just ‘cause you're some mysteriously omnipotent being from another world doesn't mean you get to steal my lines!" 

 "I sincerely apologise.  I can't promise not to do it ever again, though.  You've got some funny lines!"

 He went to smack me playfully, and I pretended to cower.

 "Not the face!  Not the face!"  He looked shocked for a second, and then cracked up once he confirmed I was joking.

 "So.  Thank you for believing in me, but...you still need to test me.  I know Tomas is going to question everyone later to see if I knew all their secrets.  You need to know what I know."

 He looked uncomfortable. I took pity on him.

 "Let me start.  You are Alistair Theirin.  Bastard son of King Maric Theirin.  Raised by Arl Eamon in Redcliffe, and everyone thought you were _his_ bastard.  He married Isolde, an Orlesian woman with a really annoying voice, who made your life miserable until she convinced him to send you off to the Chantry to train as a templar at about age ten.  He always made sure you were aware that you had no claim to the throne, made you feel like you were nobody.  When he sent you to the Chantry, you got angry and threw your mother's amulet at the wall, where it smashed.  He tried to visit you at the Chantry, but you refused to see him, and still feel guilty about that.  You hated the Chantry, although you found that the discipline part of the training was actually ok.  You attended one Harrowing, and the mage became an abomination, and you watched someone kill her.  You were conscripted by Duncan before you took your vows, so you never got addicted to Lyrium.  One of your fellow recruits died during your Joining.

 "You tell everyone you were raised by wild dogs from the Anderfels who can fly and are devout Andrastians, and you always crack jokes to avoid discussing anything personal.  You like figurines, and cheese.  You think swooping is bad.  You're unreasonably afraid of being turned into a toad by Morrigan or her mother.  You probably called Morrigan a sneaky witch thief when you met her in the Wilds."  I sat back and grinned.

 Alistair just stared at me until I blushed and looked away.  "Did I miss anything?"

 "No, I, uh, think that pretty much covers it."

 "Then let me tell you some things you don't know.  For example, Eamon kept your mother's locket, and had it repaired.  It's in his desk in Redcliffe Castle.  You should also know that your father, Maric, actually loved you very much.  He made a promise to your mother, whom he also loved, to keep you away from court, because she knew he hated being the king and she didn't want all your choices taken away like that.  That's why he sent you to Redcliffe, though I doubt he knew how you’d be treated there.  Your mother wasn't a servant in Redcliffe, she was a Grey Warden.  And I think she might still be alive.  The half-sister you thought you had, actually isn't.  They picked the name of a convenient servant who had died in childbirth and told you she was your mother, making Goldanna your half-sister.  They lied. 

 "In the, uh, performance, during this Blight, it was just you and Aedan.  And despite your insistence that you couldn't lead, and that you were a nobody, you always kept Aedan on the high road, even when the temptation to cut corners and use the ends to justify the means was really strong.  You were the backbone of the group, the one everyone relied on, and you didn't even know it.

 "I also know that if Theron had died, Eamon would put you forward as the rightful heir to the throne.  I know you wouldn't have wanted to do it, that you hated the very thought of it.  But I also know that you actually are a much better leader, and a much better man than you believe yourself to be.  You could become an amazing King, ruling Ferelden better than Cailan or Maric ever did.  I don't want that for you - I think you should have the choice of what to do with your life, but you should know.  You are capable of much more than you think possible."

 Embarrassed at my appalling lack of subtlety, afraid that Alistair would look up and see the - _inappropriate, Sierra_ \- I reached over and squeezed his hand, then stood up and walked away before he could respond.

 Back at camp, I sat down beside Tomas, leaning against him for a brief moment, trying to recapture the feeling of safety I'd had the night before.  He smiled at me, his eyes knowing, and I cursed my bad acting skills again.

 After a few minutes Alistair came back into camp, and I avoided making eye contact.  Everyone gathered in the usual circle around the fire, including Morrigan, to discuss plans briefly before the three went into town.  We discussed what supplies they should try to buy, everyone adding ideas, including more backpacks, more water skins, poultices, tents, blankets or bedrolls, and commoner clothes for me.  Leliana and I compared sizes, briefly, and she thought she'd be able to help pick out some clothes that at least would be close to fitting.

 "There's someone in town that you need to talk to, also.  He needs to come with us.  It's going to take a bit of work to get it figured out, but I'm hoping we can impose on Leliana to intercede on our behalf with the Revered Mother."

 The bard looked at me, puzzled, but I watched as she figured it out.  She tried to hide a somewhat pleased half-smile.  "You mean to recruit the Qunari."  I nodded. 

 "Aedan and Alistair should speak with him first, I think, but unless they have some major objection, then yes."

 "Are you quite certain he can be trusted?"  I knew what she was asking me.  Did I really want a murderer joining our party?

 "I am.  He's a strange one, I'll give you that, but if they can secure his word, he will never break it."

 Tomas watched the exchange, confusion building.  I debated, but decided hiding the truth would cost me some of my hard-earned trust.  I'd just have to hope they saw the reasoning behind it.

 "There's a Qunari in a cage outside Lothering.  He murdered a family in a fit of, well, temporary insanity.  There was a reason for it, but not one that makes sense to anyone but a Qunari.  He was so ashamed that he allowed himself to be captured and caged.  He could escape, if he tried, but he won't, because he thinks that a gruesome death at the hands of the darkspawn will be his atonement.  If offered a chance for redemption, and if he gives his word to help defend against the Blight, he'll be very handy to have around."  I saw a couple of people mouth the word 'handy', and blushed.  "He's a pretty amazing warrior.  He isn't a danger to any of us, and while I don't think any of us will consider him a friend, he will be helpful.  If Leliana can convince the Revered Mother to let him out, that is."

 "I can.  I will.  I think that's an admirable idea.  Everyone deserves a second chance."

 "How do we know he won't murder us in our sleep?"  I turned to Alistair.

 "I'd say 'trust me', but that feels a little disingenuous right now.  That's why I want you and Aedan to talk to him first.  If you're not convinced, don't let him out.  But let me just add this - he's been in that cage for three weeks without food or water.  He's still alive.  And he could have left at any time if he decided to.  But the decision is up to you guys."

 Leliana took the lead walking to Lothering, with Prince trotting at her side.  Aedan and Alistair were following along behind.  _Probably staring at Leliana's ass._   I saw Theron and Tomas both shooting longing glances at them, and thought perhaps I'd accidentally voiced my thought out loud.  I realised, though, that they were both probably just sick of being stuck in camp.  _Boohoo._   I sighed and scratched my head, pulling my hair out of the complicated 'do it had been in since pretending to be a noblewoman yesterday.  I felt sweaty and sticky, and my hair was hanging together in clumps.  I had an idea.

 "Hey, Morrigan?"  The witch still sat by the fire, everyone having ignored her.  Again.  She looked up, her expression hard to read.  "I'm desperate to wash up.  I am going to go down to the stream.  Care to accompany me?  We can talk on the way."  She looked skeptical, so I added bait.  "I've got soap."  Her eyes lit up, and she practically sprang up to grab her pack and follow me.

 I turned to Theron and Tomas, who were watching the witch with wary expressions.  "Now, you two be good boys and stay here, yes?  I'd hate for you to be accidentally turned into a toad for spying on us, brother."  I ruffled Theron's hair, and he squawked indignantly.  Morrigan laughed and followed me into the woods.

 By unspoken agreement, we found the stream and washed up first.  The water was cold, but I didn't care.  I stripped and laid down in the middle of the stream.  Morrigan stared at me, averting her eyes when she saw me noticing.  She crouched by the side of the stream and surreptitiously washed without baring anything.  _Seriously?  We're both girls.  Whatever.  I'm not lessening my enjoyment of this because of modesty._   I soaped myself off, sitting up to scrub my hair with the bar.  I knew it would make it impossibly tangled, but I didn't care.  I'd take clean and messy over dirty any day. 

 Finally satisfied, I stood, shivering, and it occurred to me I didn't have a towel.  I briefly wondered if there was a way to bring my huge terrycloth bath set from home next time I went back.  I shook off, sort of like Prince, and pulled my clean, now dry panties from my pack, slipping into them and then my clothes while still damp.  I grumbled, determined to at least bring a spare bra and an extra t-shirt next time.  I washed the dirty panties, tucking them away, and finally felt human again, if cold.  I put my jacket back on, wishing I'd thought to bring my cloak.  I huddled into a ball and pulled out my comb, starting to work out the tangles while I watched Morrigan bend over and somehow wash her own hair without getting her clothes wet.  She finished without tangles in her own long black hair.  _Bitch_.

 Seeing me huddling, still shivering, she rolled her eyes.  "’Tis a good thing you aren't from here.  I can only assume you would not have survived long in this world."  She turned, spying a nearby boulder, and muttered something under her breath, finally waving her hand in its general direction.  A streak of fire flashed from her fingers, splattering against the rock.  "There.  I suppose the others would be much more difficult to manage if I let you freeze to death."

 I smiled brilliantly at her and scrambled to my feet, approaching the boulder.  The heat rolled off it in waves, and I held my hands out, luxuriating in feeling warm.  I cleared a small space, close enough to be warm but far enough not to get burnt.  Morrigan and I both sank down onto the ground, backs to the radiant stone, letting our damp hair dry.

 I broke the silence first.  "So.  We should talk."

 "We should."  I sat, still pulling snarls out of my hair, waiting for her to begin testing me. 

 "Are you going to ask me questions, then?"

 "Indeed not!"

 "Uh...why not?"

 "A skilled charlatan can determine the answers based on the questions asked.  For it to be a true test, you must also provide the questions."

 "Uh, okay.  Um, well, let me see.  You were raised in the Wilds by Flemeth, who is your mother.  Or at least, she raised you; I'm not sure if she's blood related.  She is a powerful sorceress, a shapechanger who can take on the form of a dragon.  She is an abomination, having made a deal with a demon to keep her alive, or so the story goes.  She liked to use you as bait for templars who got too close when you were a child.  You learned shapechanging from her, and as I recall, can assume the form of a giant spider, or I think a bear...and apparently a bird, from what I saw earlier.

 "You once stole a mirror from a noblewoman you encountered in the Wilds.  When Flemeth discovered it, she smashed it to pieces.  You'd give almost anything to get your hands on Flemeth's grimoire.  And the reason Flemeth sent you with the Grey Wardens, the reason I think she even saved them, was so that you could perform a blood magic ritual with one of them, before the final battle, impregnating you.  It would cause the Archdemon's essence to be drawn into the body of your unborn child, to be reborn as an untainted Old God, coincidentally saving the life of the Grey Warden who strikes the killing blow.

 "You hate Circle mages, believing that they have enslaved themselves willingly, and have nothing but contempt for the Chantry.  You like pretty jewelry, though you will never admit it.  You act like you hate Alistair and think he's stupid, but I don't actually think that's true.  I think you just enjoy baiting him."

 "I do enjoy baiting him, 'tis true, but his lack of intelligence isn't in question, as far as I can tell."  I rolled my eyes, and Morrigan actually appeared to smile.

 "So.  How did I do?  Am I a charlatan?  A Fade spirit?  Just plain crazy?  What do you think?"

 "You definitely know things that you should have no way of knowing, so while I cannot fathom how you could possibly be what you claim, I cannot offer another explanation."

 "I'm going to take that as acceptance, I think."

 "For now."  Morrigan paused.  "So...may I ask what you plan to do with your information?"

 "You're wondering if I will prevent you from performing the ritual with Aedan or Alistair?"

 "I am."

 "I won't.  I don't think it's my decision to make, anyway.  However, with, uh, Tomas around, I think you will have a much harder time getting agreement."

 "Foolish.  Why would he not accept such a small sacrifice to preserve his own life?"

  _Aha.  She doesn't know everything about Wardens.  Interesting_.  "All I will say is that sometimes, there are worse things than death, for a Grey Warden."  Morrigan scoffed, but seemed to realise she would get no more out of me on the subject.

 Once both of us had dry hair, we returned to camp.  Well, I did.  Morrigan came partway, and then hesitated.

 "You're going to change shape and spend the rest of the day watching us in animal form, aren't you?"

 "I...prefer that, yes."

 "Just...know that you are welcome, if you decide to join us."

 Morrigan stared at me, an unfathomable expression on her face.  "I will keep that in mind."

 Leaving her to her privacy, I went back to camp alone.

 


	10. New Arrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sorry about the delay updating this. I find the format at this site frustrating, and just sort of...willfully forgot to update for a while. If anyone would like to read further, I"ve posted up to chapter 20 on fanfiction dot net, with the same user name. I'll try to catch this site up over the next couple of weeks. 
> 
> Please, please send feedback. It's what makes writing worthwhile, IMHO. :)

**Chapter Ten: New Arrivals**

 I found Theron and Tomas, both stripped to the waist, sparring with sticks instead of swords. I could see that Tomas was clearly the better swordsman, despite Theron's relative youth and impressive physique, but he was holding himself back to avoid humiliating Theron outright. I sat down nearby to watch, and Tomas took the opportunity to use it as a teaching moment. Both men backed off in intensity, and Tomas took the time to announce what they were doing, pointing out footwork, sword strokes, and parries. I found the half-naked thing distracting, but persevered through it to pay attention to what mattered. I realised I should have done some training with them before I took my bath in the stream, but now clean and dry, I just couldn't bring myself to get sweaty again. I finally drowsed, sitting in the bright sun, not waking until Theron ran by and pushed me over to land on my side on the ground. He took off towards the stream, howling in laughter as I cursed.

 Tomas sat across from me, having thrown his shirt on, sweat still running down his brow and staining the cloth. He looked amused, and as I picked myself up off the ground I realised that, not only was my hair still a mess but I probably now had dirt and leaves on my face. I sighed and brushed myself off, returning to trying to comb out the knots in my hair. Several curses and a couple of small bald spots later, Tomas grabbed my hand, stopping me from attacking the next tangle.

 "I had a sister, once. Before..." He sighed, and I nodded understanding. Before he ended up on the street, before he was recruited. She was most likely dead. "She had curly hair. She and my mother used to fight over combing out her hair all the time. She'd end up bawling, half bald, every time she washed her hair. Until I realised I could help." He prodded me until I turned and sat with my back to him, and he knelt behind me. I closed my eyes, humming in pleasure as he used his deft fingers to pick out the snarls, smoothing my waves. There was something so intimate, so familiar in that touch, I found myself longing for...something. A family perhaps? I wasn't sure, but I wasn't going to complain.

 We were both still sitting like that when Aedan and Alistair returned. Tomas stopped right away, and the absence left me feeling lonely. _I've lived alone for ten years, and suddenly now I feel lonely in the middle of a group? Ridiculous_. I immediately noticed that Leliana and Sten weren't with them. I worried about that, wondered what would happen if we failed to recruit the important party members from the game. Not for the first time, I wondered if Duncan and Cailan surviving would have far more unintended consequences than I imagined, wondered if I would regret whatever it was that saved them in the end. Too late now, and anyway I wouldn't have been able to live with myself had I not tried. I looked at Alistair's peaceful smile when his gaze focused on Tomas, and knew I'd do it all over again to avoid seeing his face haunted like it was in the game.

 I stood, walking over to see Aedan while Alistair spoke to Tomas quietly.

 "Where's Leliana?"

 "Getting Sten. She tried, but the Revered Mother wouldn't let him go. She decided to sneak over there herself after dark and bring him out, but they'll have to go around the outside of town to get him here safely. Alistair and I went to the army camp and made a scene to provide a distraction."

 "Did you dress him up pretty and make him dance the Remigold?"

 "I heard that! Stop stealing my lines." Aedan and I both giggled ourselves breathless while Alistair gave me a dirty look and everyone else watched, puzzled. Apparently they'd had that conversation in Ostagar, just like I had in the game. _Surreal. But funny_.

 "Alright, what did you do instead?"

 "Actually we just introduced ourselves. Bryland's a good man, and so are his lieutenants. When he learned who we were, who I am, he made a big fuss and paraded us around the army camp. He gave us most of the supplies we were looking for, for free. I made a speech about not allowing Loghain to get away with his betrayal and ending the Blight, and everyone came to watch. Even the templars."

 Tomas walked up. "You advertised your presence?"

 "Yeah, well...we needed a distraction. And I knew we'd be safe with Bryland's men. Though I think we might want to move camp once Leliana gets here with the big guy. The reward for any Grey Warden, alive or dead, is at ten sovereigns."

 I was actually relieved to see Aedan taking control, even standing up to Tomas. I could see Tomas was taken slightly aback at the matter-of-fact attitude. I smiled at Aedan and nodded when I knew no one else was looking. He winked back.

 "Perhaps we should leave now. I will stay behind and lead our new companions to the campsite once they arrive?" _Did he just ask Aedan for permission? Whoa_. Aedan shook his head.

 "Good idea, but I'll be the one to stay behind. Prince can find you for me, or warn you if I get caught. And of the two of us, I'm the far more expendable, Tomas." I saw an expression flit across Tomas' face, one of regret and worry that belied his usually calm demeanor. I knew that if something happened to either of the younger Grey Wardens, he'd never forgive himself. Still, he eventually nodded in agreement.

 All of us packed our supplies into the packs we had obtained. I changed into some simple peasant garb that they had acquired, impressed with Leliana's eye - it fit me almost perfectly. _At least it's pants and shirt, not a dress_. I tucked my Earth clothes into the top of my pack, with the other assorted oddities I had brought over, and then added a peasant dress that apparently Leliana had also found. _Spoke too soon._

 Tomas snuffed the fire, covering it with dirt to hide it at least a little, scattering the remains of the burnt wood into the undergrowth. We left Aedan, who faded into the woods with the mabari, and Alistair lead the way, aiming to swing wide around Lothering and head north. Tomas came last, trying to obscure our trail. I watched him at first, having never spent much time in the woods. He made a few obvious false trails, doubling back to the group, and tried to ensure that any broken branches, boot prints and the like blended in. I recalled that a group of Lothering refugees at some point had ambushed our group for the bounty, and suddenly his efforts seemed far more important.

 After a few minutes, however, my pack started feeling heavier. I had never been a hiker and even this body didn’t have the strength and stamina of the rest. I struggled on with it, unwilling to admit weakness to these new yet familiar companions. Shortly, Alistair stopped for a minute, allowing us to rest. He walked over to me, without a word, took my pack, slung it on one shoulder and his own on the other, shot Tomas an incredulous, slightly dirty look, and took off walking again. I was grateful – and mortified – all at once.

 After an hour of walking, and a quick consultation with Tomas, Alistair chose a campsite. I volunteered to light a small fire with my Zippo, and Theron and Alistair wandered off to gather wood. Morrigan, as usual, was nowhere to be seen. Tomas sat near me, looking lost in thought. Once I had a blaze going, I joined him.

 "Thank you, Tomas."

 "For what, my lady?"

 "For allowing Aedan to take the lead, a little. For not over-riding his authority."

 "He is a clever lad. He knows what he's doing, and he's handling everything better than the rest of us put together. I may be senior here, but I can recognise competence when I see it. I'm not about to get in the way of that." We shared a smile.

 "I worried he'd defer to you, that he wouldn't take charge and stand on his own feet the way I think he was meant to."

 "I don't think Aedan is particularly good at deferring to anyone, actually. It's one of the reasons I wanted to recruit him. Grey Wardens aren't army soldiers. They need to think for themselves. I'm more worried about Alistair, actually."

 "He will be fine, I think. He needs to believe that he's meant to follow for now, although he actually does make a good leader once he's got a bit more confidence. Aedan will lean on him, and show him respect, and he'll get it figured out."

 "You do love him, don't you." It wasn’t really a question.

 I blushed scarlet, thankful that dusk had come to hide the beacon that was my face, at least from a distance. "How could I? We've barely just met."

 " _He's_ just met _you_. I don't think that's really the case for you."

 "I...I can't be in love, Tomas. It's not right. I don't know who I am, or why I'm here. I don't know if I'll be able to even stay here. I could get pulled back tomorrow and never return. I can't defend myself, I'd be a liability. I'm not a Grey Warden, I can't share that with him, and then when he gets his Calling... This isn't even what I really look like! I don't know where this body came from, but it isn't mine. I can't allow myself...it wouldn't be fair to him..." I trailed off, swallowing the lump in my throat, trying to suppress the tears I could feel gathering _. I've cried more in the last few days than the last ten years. I hate tears._

 Tomas took my hand. "Perhaps he should have a say in what's fair to him, don't you think?" Squeezing my hand, he rose and started working on a tent. Stuffing my feelings back into the box I always kept them in, I joined him. Theron and Alistair wandered back, arms full of wood. Alistair quickly assembled a tent of his own, but Theron stared at the poles and canvas like they would bite him. From watching Tomas, I had a fair idea how they worked, so I joined him.

 "It's not rocket science, you know. Here. Let me show you."

 "What's rocket science?"

 "Uh. Hard to explain. But what I meant is that it isn't too complicated. The tent, I mean. I'll help." Together we managed to get the thing upright, laughing together at the slightly saggy roof and crooked overall result. "I think it will stand, though. I guess practice makes perfect." Alistair shot us a strange look, standing so close together and clearly enjoying ourselves. I flushed and excused myself, returning to Tomas' side.

 Tomas had assembled a couple more tents while Theron and I had struggled with his. He pointed to the one closest to the centre of camp, telling me that one was mine. I must have had an odd facial expression at that, because he immediately stopped what he was doing to take me by the shoulders. I felt at the verge of tears again.

 "What is it?"

 "I...I'm afraid to sleep alone. What if I disappear? What if I don't wake up? What if we get attacked in the night?"

 "I can make a bigger tent for you to share with Morrigan or Leliana if you'd prefer."

 "Morrigan would never agree to that. And Leliana doesn't trust me."

 "What are you suggesting?"

 "Can...can I sleep in your tent?" I felt like a small child. I'd never had parents I could crawl in bed with after a nightmare, but I'd certainly had younger foster-siblings end up in mine. I refused to make eye contact, waiting for the rejection. "It's probably not appropriate. I'm sorry. I will manage on my own. Sorry." I went to grab my pack and crawl into my small tent when the roof fell in. I glanced at Tomas in surprise, and he smiled at me.

 "I need the tent pole if I'm going to make a bigger one." Once complete, we both stowed our gear in the centre, bedrolls on opposite sides. "Tomorrow we work on your ability to defend yourself, again." I nodded, grateful.

 Alistair volunteered to cook with some of the rations they'd obtained. I rushed over to 'help', knowing his cooking was supposed to be dismal. We managed to agree on a soup to go with the dried rations, and Tomas volunteered to go try to catch some wild critter to add to the soup. I hoped he'd find more pheasant. I still didn't think I could bring myself to try rabbit. As I was fishing through the supplies, I was delighted to find a few spices. Some I recognised - oregano, rosemary - but there were several I couldn't place. I resolved to ask Leliana to teach me how to cook with them later, and made a mental note to bring some dried spices next time I ended up at home. Apparently they were expensive here.

 Tomas returned with a couple of pheasants and I breathed another sigh of relief. He plucked them and I roasted them before shredding the meat into the soup. The soup was bubbling and smelled delicious by the time Aedan showed up with Sten and Leliana in tow. Aedan stepped up behind me, sniffing appreciatively.

 "Ah, good - Alistair's legendary cooking skills must be well known. I'm glad you didn't let him poison us again, Sierra." Alistair groused at that and the two settled into a familiar routine of bickering and name calling. Sten and Leliana stood somewhat awkwardly, and I mentally cursed Aedan as I stood and performed the introductions between Sten and the rest of the group. He looked at me sharply when I announced his name/title without having to ask first.

 "Sten, meet everyone. I'm Sierra. Theron, there, is a warrior. Aedan, Alistair, and Tomas are Grey Wardens. I can't see Morrigan, but she's around somewhere. She's a mage. And you've met Leliana; she's a... uh... sister. In the Chantry."

 Sten shot another sharp look at Leliana, standing there now in leather armour, carrying a bow on her back and two wicked looking daggers in her belt. Leliana gave him her own stare, and shrugged, slowly, and he let the subject drop. I walked up to Leliana, grabbing her hand and drawing her closer to the fire, ostensibly to help me check the soup.

 "I'm so glad you decided to come. And thanks for rescuing Sten. I want to help against the Blight, but worry I've messed things up by changing events. Thank you." I gave her a warm smile, and she gave me a strange one.

 "You're sure about Sten? He's kind of...intimidating, no?"

 "I'm sure. He won't betray us. And he has honour, even if it is different than what we understand."

 "Do they have Qunari where you come from?"

 "Oh, no. Definitely not. No elves or dwarves, either. And no darkspawn. The only monsters where I'm from are people."

 Alistair sat down, holding his bowl out hopefully. "Is that better? Or worse?"

 "I'm inclined to think worse. At least when you see a hurlock, you know what to expect." We all chuckled, and I started serving soup. I gave the three Wardens and Sten all very large portions, and got a funny look from Leliana and Theron. I mouthed "just wait", and soon enough all of the non-wardens were watching the four men shoveling down their food as fast as they could swallow. Leliana levelled a look at me and wiggled her fingers in a gesture I took to mean 'explain'.

 "Sten's been in a cage for three weeks without food, and look at the size of him. He's bound to have a bigger appetite than us! As for the others, well...Grey Wardens get hungry. What can I say?" The soup and some of the dry bread was finished off, to Leliana's surprise. Afterwards I went to wash dishes a bit away from camp, and was quickly joined by Theron and Tomas. I giggled inside at the two of them jockeying for position beside me. When we headed back to camp, Aedan rolled his eyes in their direction and I just about burst out laughing. At least he seemed to treat me like a person instead of a very fragile woman. It was refreshing.

 Finally, all of us settled in a circle around the fire, Alistair asked the question I'd been waiting for since we'd met up with them.

 "So, we have all these treaties - mages, elves, dwarves. And then there's Arl Eamon, and our anonymous guest. Where do we go first?"

 All eyes turned to me – I gulped, suddenly confronted with six very serious faces except Sten's, and he glanced around, confused.

 "You are expecting this tiny woman to tell you all what to do? She tells me she cannot even defend herself. Why do you follow her?" I think everyone forgot Sten wasn't in on my secret.

 "I don't lead, Sten. I suggest, and the Wardens decide. And the reason is...call me a seer. I'm not saarebas,” Sten gave me a shocked look at using Qunari terms, “but I have some limited ability to know the future. They're asking me to figure out their best course of action based on the future.

 "I can't tell you where to go first. I can tell you what to expect at each place, but like I said, I don't know the timing of all these events. I don't know if some of the problems I anticipate can be avoided by doing things in a different order. So all I can do is tell you what might happen, and you will have to decide." They all nodded, somewhat disappointed.

 "So here's the basic scoop. In Redcliffe, Eamon is ill. He's been poisoned by an agent of Loghain's. Connor, it turns out, is a mage, and Isolde knew and kept it from everyone including Eamon. Connor made a deal with a demon to keep his father alive, and is now an abomination."

 I could feel Alistair radiating panic from beside me and I touched his knee gently. "Connor can be saved, and so can Eamon. Don't lose hope.

 "The demon has killed many of the castle inhabitants and is animating the dead to attack the town of Redcliffe. Bann Teagan has holed up in the Chantry with much of the town's population. So to get to Eamon, we have to battle the undead to save the town, sneak into Redcliffe Castle, kill a bunch more undead, confront Connor, and sedate him. Then a group of mages and a bunch of Lyrium from the Circle Tower can allow one mage to enter the Fade, kill the demon possessing Connor, and release the boy.

 "To save Eamon, we need the Urn of Sacred Ashes. It resides in a Tevinter ruin near a town named Haven, in the Frostback Mountains somewhere. To find Haven, we need to go to Denerim and go to a scholar's house to get a map. Once we find Haven, we have to fight a whole bunch of crazy cultists who think Andraste has been reborn as a high dragon. Once they're all dead, we may have to fight the high dragon, and then there's a gauntlet of tests to pass, and then you get the Ashes.

 "I know, Sten, that you're going to say it doesn't make sense to save this one man when we are facing a Blight, but we need Eamon to call a Landsmeet and get Loghain off the throne in order to rally the human forces to face the horde, never mind preventing a civil war. If it helps any, I know where your Asala is, and we can get it along the way." Sten jumped and stared, as though I was a ghost. I almost had to laugh.

 "So that's Redcliffe. If we want to save Connor, we need the Circle of Magi. Sadly, one of the mages, manipulated by Loghain, tried to stage a coup of sorts and when it didn't go his way, he and a few friends turned to blood magic. There are now abominations running rampant in the tower, and Uldred is turning more and more of the surviving mages. The templars sealed everyone in the tower and have requested permission to kill every living thing inside. If that happens, there's no way to save Connor without using blood magic and someone dying, and the mages won't be able to help us against the darkspawn. So we have to go in there, kill a bunch of demons and abominations, and save the First Enchanter and whichever other mages can be spared. One of them, a healer, will join us. Oh, and we will end up in the Fade, battling a sloth demon.

 "The Dalish have a werewolf problem that will have to be resolved before they can aid us. Orzammar recently lost their King and are without a clear successor. To get their aid, we'll have to make an expedition into the Deep Roads to find someone who can break the deadlock, and you'll be left with the choice of who to make King. One of the dwarves will stay with us also.

 "Along the way we'll be ambushed by an Antivan Crow who was hired by Loghain, and if we do it right he can be turned to help us. And there's a golem named Shale who can be convinced to aid us in a town named Honnleath, though first there's a traveling merchant somewhere holding her control rod. Oh, and Levi Dryden is around as well and will want us to go to Soldier's Peak, which is currently overrun with demons, and houses a 200 year-old Grey Warden mage who's been...experimenting with the Taint. He's worth a chat for sure.

 "Also, I'm not sure what can be done about it, but Loghain named Rendon Howe the Arl of Denerim, and he's currently torturing noblemen and templars alike, and will eventually get his hands on a Grey Warden named Riordan to torture as well. Oh, and Loghain is selling the elves from the Denerim Alienage into slavery to the Tevinters. Civil war is brewing because of his abuses and the rumours about him leaving the battle at Ostagar. And that's only going to be worse with more survivors and more rumours.

 "So...what do you guys want to do first?"

 


	11. Separate Ways

#  Chapter Eleven: Separate Ways

 I took a long, tepid drink from a water skin, mouth puckering from the slightly unpleasant iodine aftertaste, and then watched them all try to talk all at once. It would have been comical if it wasn't so serious. Leliana, Sten, and Morrigan wandered off, probably to let the others decide, since none of them had a vested interest in the order of stops.

 Finally the discussion settled into a normal back and forth between Aedan, Alistair, Theron, and Tomas. Alistair, unsurprisingly, wanted to go to Redcliffe first to rescue the town. Theron wanted to march on Denerim, to take Loghain head-on. Tomas wanted us to find somewhere safe for Theron to hide prior to any other consideration, which Theron strenuously objected to. Aedan tried to listen to each, and finally cleared his throat. To my continued surprise, everyone stopped and listened, including both Tomas and Theron.

 "So. Let's assume that Loghain learns that Theron didn't die at Ostagar. Do we feel convinced that we can deal with whatever he throws at us to keep the rest of Ferelden from finding out?" He looked around at the group, and not even Theron was able to nod. "Alright. Given that, and that we can't risk Theron dying anonymously in the Deep Roads or the Brecilian Forest, we need to find him somewhere to hide. I know hiding feels cowardly, but you have to admit that the rest of us cannot do what needs to be done if we are more worried about you than about doing our jobs. Agreed?" Theron's face coloured, and it was obvious he was remembering my heated words from the night before. Finally he nodded.

 "I think Redcliffe is possibly the best place to hide him. He can blend in as a Knight, and stay out of sight in the Castle. I think we can all agree that Eamon would protect him with his last breath. It won't be easy, but even if Eamon is still ill, he can stay there under Teagan's protection. I think the best thing for us to do is get Redcliffe safely. Can anyone come up with anything better?"

 Tomas spoke up. "I only have one thing to add to that. There are very few events that Sierra has related to us that we can hope to prevent. One of those is the capture of Riordan. The other is the slavery of elves in the Alienage. In addition to which, we require some information from Denerim in order to save Eamon. I believe that I am actually a liability to you, given how well-known I am around Ferelden. You have a much better chance of successfully hiding Theron if I am not with you. And I have enough stealth to sneak my way into Denerim, intercept Riordan, do whatever I can to safeguard the elves, and get the information you need to find Haven without being seen. I will send it to Redcliffe, and then perhaps try to rescue those I can from Howe's dungeons. If I am caught, you are still capable of safeguarding Theron and combating the Blight. Otherwise, I will return to you once I am done."

 Alistair looked upset at the prospect of losing his mentor and father-figure again, but no one could come up with a reasonable argument against his proposal.

 "Then I leave for Denerim at daybreak."

 I spoke up. "Then I will tell you what you will need to know in Denerim. On three conditions." Everyone stopped and stared at me. _Shocked that I don’t go along with Duncan about everything, no matter what?_

 "Name them, my lady." His resigned look said he knew what I would ask. I steeled myself against the guilt I knew I would feel later and pushed on.

 "First is that you try to find a way to send word to the Grey Wardens in Orlais. Tell them to come. Sneak across the border in ones and twos, because Loghain will have closed the border. Tell them to send as many non-Orlesians – or at least, ones who can hide their accents – as they can find, and not to send any other reinforcements. If Loghain hears of Chevaliers or other soldiers trying to cross, his paranoia will ramp up even more than it already is. We both know why we need as many Grey Wardens as possible."

 "Agreed."

 "The second is that you spend tonight telling Alistair and Aedan both all that they need to know in order to combat the Blight. They are not prepared as they should be, and I refuse to be the one to tell them."

 Tomas nodded, anguish clear on his face for a split second before his mask fell into place. Aedan and Alistair were too busy looking at each other in surprise to notice.

 "And third, you also spend a bit of time tonight alone with Alistair. You know why."

 This time Alistair aimed his surprised look at me. I refused to look away from Tomas until he slowly, reluctantly nodded. _It’s about time someone who knew her tells him about his mother._ "You have my word."

 I stood and stepped away from the fire. "Then I am going to our tent. If I am asleep, please wake me when you are done with the boys." Aedan and Alistair both shot me a dirty look for calling them boys. I grinned apologetically at Alistair, ruffled Aedan's hair in passing, and crawled into the tent Tomas had agreed to share with me. I noticed speculative glances from Theron and Leliana as I headed into the tent. I ignored them.

 Inside the tent I pulled out the scissors and razor I had brought with me specifically for Tomas' benefit. I had no idea what to do with myself after that, and I was cold again. I wrapped myself in the blankets from my bedroll, sitting upright, thoughts buzzing through my head on what all we were going to have to face over the next several months. Assuming that I stayed in Ferelden, that was. I felt completely overwhelmed at the odds we faced. Even though it had proved possible in the game, and apparently my being present had improved those odds by adding in some foreknowledge and keeping one extra Grey Warden alive, I knew now that the game ending wasn't set in stone. If I could somehow save some, I could also lose some. There were no guarantees that the story would have even a vaguely happy ending.

 I didn't think I'd be able to rest, between worry about the future of Ferelden and worry about disappearing in the night, but the exhaustion won out. I nodded off, sitting upright, chin on my chest. I woke some indeterminate time later when Tomas slipped into the tent. His mask was firmly in place, expression revealing nothing, until he closed the flaps of the tent. When he turned back, I could see despair, anguish, and raw fear on his face. I was a little bit awestruck that he allowed me to see his emotions when he kept such a brutally calm exterior for everyone else, but I was also glad that he did. Everyone needs someone to talk to, to trust.

 I crawled out of my pile of blankets, over to him, unsure quite what to do but wanting to offer some comfort. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he curled into it unexpectedly. I grabbed him with the other arm to try to keep my balance, and we ended up with his face buried in my chest, my arms around his neck, and he caught me as I started to topple over. I found myself sitting in his lap. I might have giggled if I couldn't feel him almost trembling in my arms.

 I held him, not saying anything, just stroking his hair and rubbing his shoulders where I could reach them. After several minutes, he pulled away and I tumbled awkwardly out of his lap.

 "He's angry." I knew without asking that he meant Alistair. He was whispering, and I answered in kind.

 "He will get over it."

 "How can you be so sure?"

 "I know him. He forgave Arl Eamon after treating him like a saddle sore all his childhood, unwanted but unavoidable, then after all that, sending him to the Chantry. He is hurt, but he will understand. You're his family now. You and Aedan, you're all he has. Just come back, and all will be well. I'm certain of it."

 "He will need you. Will you take care of him? I know you wish to avoid...entanglements, but he needs someone to look after him."

 "Of course. Can you imagine I would do otherwise?" A small smile quirked the corners of his lips, and he shook his head.

 "Hey, I need to ask you something. An opinion. In case, God forbid, you don't make it back." He nodded. "There is an...alternative. To a Grey Warden dying in order to kill the Archdemon." His eyes narrowed, and I couldn't decide if it was disbelief or anger that I'd not told him before. "Not my secret to tell, okay? But listen. There's a price. The price is a child, conceived on the eve before the battle, whose father is a Grey Warden. That child will be born with the untainted soul of the Old God. I have no idea what will happen to that child, or how it could impact the future. I can't guarantee the darkspawn won't find it and corrupt it, somehow start another Blight. I can't guarantee that whatever that child is won't be worse than the Blight. Or, it might just be a human being.

 "If the option is for either Aedan or Alistair to perform the ritual, or to let one of them die, what would you want me to recommend?"

 Tomas' shrewd eyes examined my face. "This is why you saved me. At Ostagar. So I could be the one to kill the Archdemon, not Aedan or Alistair."

 "I didn't save you. Even if I did, it would not be the only reason, by far. But one of them, yes."

 "Well..." He looked thoughtful, though still irritated. "I suppose that if there are no other Grey Wardens when that day arrives, then...I would want Aedan and Alistair to survive. And hopefully together they could deal with the consequences, should there be any." He looked somewhat ashamed, but I just drew a sigh of relief.

 "Now. Tell me about Denerim."

 I told him about Brother Genitivi, and the imposter Weylon. I told him what I could remember about Riordan's story - Howe offering him a place to stay, Riordan not realising his cover had been blown. About the supposed plague in the Alienage, right after the district was closed for a prolonged period due to the attack on the old Arl's son, and the Tevinters who were offering a supposed cure. About the nobles being tortured, and the templar in Lyrium withdrawal, and the elf who tried to defend his bride from the Arl's son, who was also in the dungeon. About the fake support meetings, the Crows who might stop trying to kill the Wardens if they completed some contracts for him.

 When I was done, I presented him with the scissors and disposable razor. He was not thrilled to lose his distinctive beard after already losing his long hair, but he allowed me to drag him outside where I trimmed the bristly hair, and he lathered as best he could with cold water and my bar of soap and then shaved the rest. He was amazed by the little razor and I sent it with him to keep him clean shaven at least for a while. Leliana heard us moving about, and spying my scissors, proceeded to cut his hair to give it a lot more style then the poor hack job I'd done with my dagger. He looked like an entirely different person and I was happy that no one would easily recognise him.

 Satisfied, we crawled into the tent. Tomas repacked for added stealth, refusing a tent, taking only a small amount of our combined coin, leaving the rest split between Aedan, Alistair, and my pack. We finally fell onto our bedrolls and I was asleep in seconds.

 ********

 I woke at home, on my bed, still dry and unsoiled. I cursed as my eyes opened and I realised where I was. Everyone would wake in the morning to find an empty tent, as Duncan planned to leave so early. Someone would end up carrying all of my stuff, including our tents. And what if they didn't find Bodahn and Sandal on the road? I groaned, knowing I was completely incapable of doing anything about it. I was still wearing what I had been when I left, despite having changed into commoner clothing in Ferelden. I gave myself a headache trying to wrap my mind around how that would work when I went back.

 I repeated my ablutions from the previous visit home, including shower. Despite being away for three days I didn't feel overly hungry, again. Once cleaned up and redressed, including an extra t-shirt, I forced myself to eat, made a list, called a cab, and headed to the nearest supermarket. I bought a package of dark brown hair dye, thinking critically of Cailan's noticeable blond head, some small bottles of shampoo and a detangling spray meant for kids. I also bought a few packets of spices that I knew how to use. Knowing we'd be down to eating nothing but meat either dried or fresh caught, I bought vitamin C tabs. _I refuse to get scurvy along with everything else!_

 I also bought several small empty notebooks and a package of small pens. I planned to write down as many details about the various locations as I could, so that I could leave them with Aedan in case I disappeared at an inconvenient time. Or in case at some point I got pulled home and couldn't return. I realised, for the first time, that I didn't want to come home. _I'd rather be in Thedas. I'm going to need to have a t-shirt made for my new motto._

 At home I realised that the Swiss army knives I had ordered had arrived, and I tucked them into my pockets. I put the spices and hygiene products in Ziploc bags, added soap and more coin to my pockets, folded in a spare bra, and I was ready except for my notebooks. I kept them near me, and spent the next two days poring through the wiki, writing as fast as I could. I outlined the quests needed to accomplish our goals as well as those that were lucrative. I put in as many details as I could about the enemies they would face and the strategies that seemed to work for different situations. But the first several pages were an overall summary of the difficulties each area was having and the options they would have for resolving them.

 I had just finished Redcliffe and the Circle Tower when the dizziness hit me. I stuffed my pens and notebooks in my pockets and raced toward my room. I didn't make it. As I closed my eyes, lying on my living room floor, all I could think of was how stiff I was going to be when I woke up.


	12. Chapter 12

#  Chapter Twelve: And if I die before I wake...

When I awoke, it was bright out. I was lying in a field, my overly full pockets bruising me. I heard a shout, and then the pounding of several pairs of feet running. The sun was in my eyes, and when someone's head suddenly blocked the glare I was left temporarily blind. I heard my name being called by a voice I recognised. And then something wet bathed my face.

 "Now I know why everyone says Ferelden smells like wet dog." I grimaced at Prince, who chuffed happily and licked me again.

 "Thank the Maker. We thought we had lost you." Strong arms grabbed my shoulders and lifted me bodily off the ground, holding me until I managed to find my legs under me. I blinked up at an enormous templar, and then realised that everyone else was standing there staring as well.

 "How long was I gone?"

 "A little more than two days. When we woke to find all your things still there, even your clothes, but you gone...we thought maybe you'd decided to follow Tomas to Denerim. We couldn't tell what happened."

 "Why would I follow Tomas to Denerim?" Alistair coughed, and I noticed Aedan rolling his eyes. _Right, they all think we're lovers._ "I mean, what possible good could that come to? I can't take care of myself. I would just get him killed." Leliana rescued me from my own awkwardness, surprising me with a hug.

 "I'm just glad you're back. Do you still have those scissors? I want to fix Theron's hair at some point."

She dragged me off, chatting about nothing, leaving the men open-mouthed in shock. Except for Sten, who just narrowed his eyes. _I swear he thinks I'm a mage. If he even mentions a collar I'm going to bite his knees._

 Leliana led me onto the road, and I was delighted to see a cart approach with two dwarves driving it. The older of the two hopped down as he noticed Leliana wave at him.

 "You must be Lady Sierra! Welcome, welcome. When the Wardens mentioned they were expectin' someone, I never thought they meant in the middle of nowhere! Pardon me, my lady. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Bodahn Feddic, and this 'ere's my son, Sandal. Say hello to the pretty lady, Sandal."

 "Hullo."

 Bodahn continued to chatter on, and I barely listened, knowing from the game most of what he’d say. I nodded in the right places, hoping he didn't need more of a response than that. I felt vaguely bad about it, but just couldn’t seem to concentrate on small talk. While he spoke, Leliana went rummaging through his wagon, finally pulling out my pack, as well as a bundle of what I realised were the commoner clothes she had picked for me in Lothering. I slipped behind the cart and Leliana watched out for me as I quickly changed my clothes, bundling my jeans and all my new pocket possessions into my pack. I strapped my dagger into place on my thigh, then stared at the sword for a while, realising eventually I needed a sheath unless I wanted to carry it in my hand for the rest of eternity. _Perhaps carrying it will gain me some of that upper body strength. Worth a try._

 "It was really creepy going in to your tent to find your clothes laid out in your bedroll as though you were still sleeping, but you gone. And it's a good thing that Morrigan has been flying over us keeping an eye out or we never would have seen you in that field. I'd ask you to stop doing that, but I get the impression that asking you wouldn't help very much. Because if it were up to you, you probably wouldn't keep coming back, yes?"

 "You'd be partially right, Leliana. I wouldn't keep popping back and forth - I'd stay. You might try asking the Maker about it, because if he didn't do this, I can't imagine who else could have."

 Aedan came around the corner, talking at the same time as Leliana. "You'd stay? Whatever for?"

 I started feeling a bit defensive now. "Hey, I know I can't fight, so I'm not exactly helping in the combat department. But I'd like to think I'm not a total barnacle! I'm trying to be helpful."

 Aedan chuckled, mouthing the word 'barnacle', and I blushed. "It's a sea creature that likes to grow on the bottoms of boats. If you get enough of them, they create drag. They slow the boat, and you have to row harder or need stronger wind to get the same distance."

 Aedan patted my shoulder while Leliana grabbed me in yet another hug. "We didn't mean it like that, Sierra. We all missed you - even if you can't fight, your knowledge and your gadgets are incredibly useful. And you're the best cook among us, as far as I've seen! We just wondered why you would choose to be here when you could be at home, somewhere familiar and safe, with all your friends and family."

 "I...would rather not talk about it, guys. Please. Just know I'd rather be here with you than there. If I leave, it isn't on purpose." Leliana took my pack and stowed it back in Bodahn's cart, and we started walking again. Everyone seemed eager to hear what I'd been up to and what I brought with me this time. I demurred, not having even thought about bringing gifts or anything. I did, however, show off the dark hair dye. I pointed at Theron and told him we had an appointment the next time we found a suitable stream. He groaned, and everyone else laughed.

 I was able to keep up with the rest of the group walking, but was bone weary when we arrived at the next campsite. Bodahn mentioned he knew of a place with a hot spring, and I dragged Theron to it and proceeded to dye his hair. I left the dye in as long as I dared, and when it was done his hair was a nice, uniform, dark brown. Back in camp I found my scissors and Leliana cut it for him, keeping it shaggy and much longer than Aedan's or Alistair's, but again much more attractive than the mop I'd cut with my dagger. He was still good looking, but unrecognisable. It was perfect.

 Everyone took turns using the hot springs. Morrigan, Leliana and I went together, them bathing and me mostly just soaking my sore legs. They were both delighted with my bar of soap and I let them each have a small amount of shampoo. I used the detangling spray sparingly and found I could at least get my comb through my hair to put it up when we were done.

 I thanked Morrigan for scouting while we were on the move and for spotting me in the field. She acted indifferent, but it felt like she warmed up towards me a little bit. _I'll take what I can get!_

 We set up tents in no time, and ate dried meat and bread for supper. I sat by the fire, writing in my notebooks, what I could remember about the different areas I hadn't completed yet. Prince sat at my feet. Aedan made his rounds, even to Morrigan, talking and cajoling, getting everyone to open up a little bit. _Just like I did in the game_. Alistair went to sleep early, offering to take the late watch. Apparently they had decided that either Aedan or Alistair had to be awake at any given time so they could sense darkspawn. I decided to wait to talk to Aedan about how we had managed watch when Tomas needed rest. I didn't want to contradict him in front of everyone. So Aedan wandered off a little ways from the camp, and everyone else excused themselves and settled in to sleep.

 I stayed awake, scribbling in my notebooks by the fire. I knew it was just an excuse, knew I'd be exhausted in the morning, but I had developed some sort of fear of falling asleep alone in case I disappeared. I have no idea what I thought anyone could do if that happened, it was a completely irrational fear, but I couldn't help it. So I sat, and scribbled, and yawned, and eventually fell asleep, pen in hand, right where I sat.

 The next morning, when I opened my eyes, I was in my tent. I thought back, and vaguely recalled waking briefly as I was being lifted, falling asleep again before I even figured out who it was that picked me up. Someone had carried me into my tent and tucked me into bed. I was embarrassed, but also felt sort of warm and happy that one of my companions had taken care of me. I briefly wondered who it was, assuming it to be one of the guys, but decided that asking would be even more embarrassing.

 I got myself straightened out and crawled out of my tent. Prince was asleep in front of the flap, feet twitching in some sort of doggy dream. I grinned. Alistair was sitting over a pot on the fire, but everyone else must still have been sleeping. I slowly rose, stretching out my stiff extremities, and made my way over to huddle beside Alistair, as close to the fire as I could get. He smiled and handed me a bowl of something that resembled porridge. I wasn't a fan, but it was warm at least, so I ate. We sat quietly together until the rest of the camp stirred, got fed, and we all packed up to head out.

 The next few days were all filled with the same sort of monotony. Get up, eat porridge, walk, eat while walking, walk more. Finally collapse, set up tents, eat something else, and then get knocked over and smacked, over and over, by Aedan, or Theron, or Alistair, under the guise of teaching me. I'd never been so bruised in my whole life. Between Leliana and Aedan we were able to have fresh meat almost every night, and they seemed to be engaged in a friendly competition to outdo the other. We started drying some of the extra meat to replenish our rations. I tried rabbit, and didn't vomit. _Small victories._ A couple of times, I didn't fall over while sparring. Occasionally Bodahn would find us campsites he knew, with streams or swimming holes or hot springs we could wash in, other times we'd find a clearing just out of sight of the road. I suggested my plan that non-Grey Wardens could sit watch as long as we woke one of them every two hours or so, and Aedan and Alistair started looking better rested.

 I spent a lot of my walking time with Aedan. He was sweet and funny, and despite being good looking and flirtatious, I still found him totally non-threatening. He didn’t give me the celebrity jitters the way Tomas and Theron and Alistair and Leliana did, since he was sort-of me. And it had the added benefit of keeping Theron away a bit. Theron and Aedan had developed a dislike for each other that I couldn't figure out, and I worried it had something to do with me. Theron had stopped actively trying to court me after our conversation, but the way he looked at me still didn't feel brotherly. I noticed Leliana didn't seem to spend much time with him either, after one day where he walked with her for most of the day, and I wondered if maybe he looked at all women like that.

 Aedan asked me a lot of questions about home. Some I answered easily - explaining the difference between science and magic, seeing a healer or seeing a doctor, what sort of work I did - but some I sidestepped. I didn't want to talk about my family (or lack of one), or what was happening to my body back at home. I tried not to even think about the latter - when I did I started to panic about how long I'd been in Thedas, imagining my body wasting away for lack of food, or going into kidney failure from muscle breakdown from lying in my living room for days on end. I'd once read an article about that happening to someone who hit their head and was unconscious for days before being found. _Sometimes reading a lot is a bad thing_. I ruthlessly suppressed the fear of what would happen if my body at home died. I couldn't change it, so avoidance seemed to be the key to keeping my sanity.

 We talked about his home life prior to becoming a Grey Warden. It seemed like telling me stories about the good times helped him cope with all he had lost. He would tell stories of pranks he and Fergus played on each other, or adventures the two of them had. He told me that he and Fergus had actually been the ones to discover the bolt hole in the pantry through which he and Duncan escaped when Howe attacked. He mentioned Ser Gilmore a few times, but talking about the knight was obviously painful for him. I assumed that perhaps they'd been lovers, but didn't have the heart to ask.

 We spent some time trying to compare calendars between home and Thedas. The names of the months didn't line up, but otherwise it wasn't a bad comparison. We counted it out, and realised that, as best we could tell, Aedan and I shared a birthday. We were the same exact age, down to the day. Somehow that just cemented things for us, and I started thinking of him as actually being my brother, not just being 'like a brother'. It was an odd feeling, to think of myself as part of a family.

 I spent a bit of time with Leliana, but the bard was still play-acting her girly, ditzy Chantry sister role, and it felt too fake. I knew it wouldn't last, and strongly suspected I'd like her better when she reintegrated the fiercer aspect of her personality. Sten almost never spoke to me, although he seemed to tolerate me walking quietly by his side. I think he might even have been a bit intrigued that I was the only person who didn't pester him to explain aspects of Qunari culture. He was skeptical that I knew anything about his sword, Asala, but I wasn't worried. I really wanted Aedan to take credit for it anyway.

 Morrigan almost never travelled with us, preferring to spend her days flying above us in bird form. After some initial shock, it seemed everyone had accepted her shapechanging abilities and we now relied on them heavily to scout ahead. I did spend a fair bit of time talking with her in the evenings, though. Aedan made the effort, but none of the rest of the party seemed to bother getting to know the beautiful witch, and that bothered me. I was surprised that, once you could get past the prickly exterior, she was actually quite funny, in a sarcastic way, and she made fun of Alistair a lot less than I recalled her doing in the game. I was undecided whether the game just played that aspect up for entertainment value, or whether she had toned it down after I told her I knew that she didn't dislike him as much as she let on. I decided that it didn't matter which, since Alistair was being left alone, and the two of them could mostly stand spending time together without acting like children.

 I did find myself avoiding Alistair as we travelled. As I got more and more comfortable talking with Aedan, I got less and less so with the enormous templar. It wasn't that he was unkind, or disrespectful, or anything else bad. It was actually quite the opposite - he was so sweet, and thoughtful, and kind, and good looking, that I found myself awkward around him, stuttering, forgetting what I was saying, getting caught staring instead of listening. I had given numerous reasons to Tomas why we couldn't ever be together, and I meant them, but being around him made it hard to keep my resolve. So I avoided him. I tried to be subtle in my avoidance, but obviously didn't entirely succeed, because I found Aedan frequently giving me sympathetic looks when I switched between groups of companions.

 And each night it was the same. I'd stay awake, long after everyone else went to sleep, avoiding my lonely tent. I'd sit and scribble in my notebooks by the fire, or talk to whoever was on watch. I fell asleep on more than a few shoulders, slept on Prince a few times, finally being shaken awake and made to go to bed, and I woke up covered in a blanket by the fire or having been carried into my tent more than once. I became more and more exhausted as the days wore on, until finally one day Aedan insisted I sit on Bodahn's cart instead of walking. He tried to be kind about it, but I knew I was slowing them down. I agreed without argument and made a space for myself among all our gear on the cart. It wasn't comfortable, but I was so tired that eventually I fell asleep.

 ********

 When I woke, I was far less uncomfortable than I had been while crammed onto the cart, and I wondered if someone had picked me up and put me in my tent or something. But as details flooded in, I realised I was in a bed, not on a bedroll, and I was wearing...not a lot. I opened my eyes to the tiled, ugly, industrial ceiling of a hospital room. I was wearing one of those horrible gowns, there was an IV in my arm...and this time, a catheter. Wonderful.

 I rolled to the side to push the button that raised the head of the bed, and as I sat up I realised I was in a large room with multiple other beds, all occupied. Most of my room-mates were in worse shape than me - several had breathing tubes, in addition to other unidentified wires and tubes snaking out from under the blankets. All of them had large, complicated, noisy monitors running, I assumed to keep track of heart beats and breaths and the like. I looked over and realised that I was also connected to monitors, although I didn't seem to have any tubes or anything I couldn't explain. As I struggled to sit up, the little thingy attached to my finger fell off, and the monitor began to beep.

 A couple of nurses bolted into the room, I assumed because of the noise, but when they saw me awake, one changed directions to go call the doctor. The other came over, trying to hide the shock and concern on her face behind a professional mask as she checked my monitors, took a blood pressure, and examined my IV site and checked my catheter bag, which was almost empty.

 "What day is it?" She told me, and I did the math - I'd been in Thedas for almost two weeks. I was continually amazed that the days lined up evenly like that. "How did I get here?"

 She told me that someone had gone to my door, she didn't know who, and when I didn't answer they peeked in my window and saw me lying face down on the floor. They called 911, and the ambulance brought me in. I'd apparently only been in hospital seven days, so I must have spent the first six on the floor.

 Just then the doctor arrived, the same one I'd seen the last time. The one I had told about my dreams. His face was drawn, and he looked tired. I tried to be cheerful, but the look on his face was grim.

 "What's up, doc?"

 "Hi Sierra. It's good to see you awake." He waved off the nurse, and she left us alone.

 "You have a truly terrible poker face, doc, anyone ever told you that?" He tried to smile and failed.

 "So I've heard. I won't lie to you. You have me worried."

 "What's happening? Was I in kidney failure from laying on the floor for so long? Is something else wrong?" He looked surprised at the kidney question, but dismissed all my guesses with the wave of a hand.

 "No, no. Nothing is exactly wrong. It's like I told you before - your body is completely fine, but your mind is just...gone. No brain activity, flatline EEG. And this time you were out for seven days!"

 "Thirteen, actually. I think I must have been laying on the floor a while when they found me."

 He frowned. "That can't be. They didn't mention anything about you having...uh..."

 "Wet myself? Yeah, it would seem I don't do that. It's not the first time. I've had a couple of other long blackouts since we last met, and I didn't then either."

 "But you weren't dehydrated, or malnourished, and like you asked, you weren't in kidney failure. You must be misremembering." I shrugged. Medical explanation or not, I knew it had been two weeks. "Have you been dreaming again?"

 "Yep. It's like I'm living two lives. I remember both, but they're separate. That one is sort of medieval. The number of days I'm unconscious even line up with the number of days I spend there."   He shook his head, slowly, obviously confused.

 "Well, let me tell you this. You're not going home any time soon. I want you here for observation at the very least."

 "Can I have my own stuff? Can I visit my own house to get it? And can I wear my own clothes? This hospital gown is fashionable, but I'd really rather be in jeans." _I'd really like to avoid waking in Thedas wearing only a hospital gown. Oh, damn, I just jinxed myself._

 He nodded. "The nurses can help make arrangements. You'll probably be moved to a different room. The ICU is no place for someone who's awake."

 "Thanks, doc."

 He was right about being moved - half an hour after he left, they had me in a semi-private room, catheter out, and had found me my clothes from when I'd been admitted. I put them on, at least relieved that they would be better than the gown. The nurses looked at me strange when I put on the extra t-shirt, the jacket, and the boots. I shrugged.

 I overheard a conversation between the doctor and some nurses. Apparently, the entire time I'd been out, my catheter had drained exactly how much fluid they had given me by IV, no more and no less. Which is evidently not normal. And when you don't eat, something weird is supposed to happen to the potassium levels in your blood, but despite thirteen days of not being fed, it didn't happen to me. They were debating whether I needed a feeding tube and permanent IV lines for the next time I blacked out. The protocols said yes, but my apparently strange responses indicated that somehow, my body didn't require that. I finally stepped in, politely refusing all of the procedures unless my medical condition was deteriorating during my next blackout. It wondered if, as long as my body in Thedas was being fed and allowed to manage its own issues - like peeing - my body at home would just continue on. I briefly wondered how many papers would be written about that. I tried very hard not to think about what would happen if my body in Thedas didn't stay healthy.

 I wasn't allowed to go home, but I managed to get hold of my landlady, a sweet older woman who agreed to go to my place the next morning and call me from there, and bring me anything I asked for. I got her to bring my laptop, my purse, a large bag with personal hygiene products like soap and shampoo, a bunch of clothes, and my remaining box of coin. She didn't even question why I wanted multiple pairs of socks, an extra pair of boots, and an extra jacket.

 I showered and got cleaned up, dressing again in heavy clothing once my landlady had come and gone, putting more coin, shampoo, and soap in my pockets, and then had nothing to do. I read on the wiki, refreshing my memory so I could write more in my notebooks when I got back. I slept, and ate, and chatted with the nurses, cleaning staff, and anyone else I could find. Apparently my fear of sleep only existed when I was in Thedas. I dealt with my insurance company, made sure every bill I had was set to be automatically deducted from my account, and got a Legal Will kit and information about enduring Power of Attorney from the hospital's social worker. And the whole time I was just entirely frustrated wondering what was happening in Thedas. It was only one day on Earth, but it dragged on for what felt like forever.

 The morning of the second day, I was walking around the hospital ward, pacing really, when the dizziness hit. I sagged onto a nearby unoccupied wheelchair, reflecting that at least this time, I didn't have to worry about what would happen to my body while I was gone.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Laying Groundwork

#  Chapter Thirteen: Laying Groundwork

 When I woke, I was lying in front of the fire, surrounded by familiar tents. Alistair, on watch, shouted in surprise, and my new companions came pouring out of their tents. I expected suspicion or weirdness, showing up in the middle of them like this, but all I got were relieved smiles and some teasing about yet again wearing my strange Earth clothes.

 The clothes thing was starting to weird me out. _Somehow Ferelden clothing stayed here, but Earth clothing transferred over? What the hell?_ I shrugged. Nothing I could do about it.

 Leliana and Aedan hugged me, and Theron attempted to, which was awkward. Sten ignored me, but I thought I saw a smile when he thought no one was looking. Alistair smiled and clapped me on the shoulder, almost knocking me over. Morrigan sniffed, but managed to somehow look not totally unhappy. Bodahn smiled broadly and welcomed me back, though where he thought I'd gone was anyone's guess. Sandal seemed unfazed, muttering his usual "enchantment?" and we all chuckled.

 We decided to break camp early, since everyone was awake anyway. Aedan figured we were just over a day's march from Redcliffe. I changed into my local clothing, while everyone else got ready. We walked, and I carried my sword as usual. Having rested well while at home, I was actually energetic, and spent most of the day teasing everyone. At one point Leliana pulled me aside, walking where the rest of the party couldn't see.

 "Here. I want you to have this." She handed me a small circular object, attached by a loop onto a leather tie. I realised it was a necklace with the symbol of Andraste on it. The stone was smooth with wear, the symbol slightly faded. I tried to refuse, but she interrupted me.

 "I know you're not an Andrastian. You don't believe in the Maker. I'm not giving this to you as a religious symbol. I'm giving it to you because...I hate it when you disappear, and it's only happened twice, so far. I hate wondering if you disappeared, or just left us. I hate feeling like we're leaving you behind when we keep going without you. What if you were kidnapped? Caught by darkspawn or bandits or...and we just left you, because we assumed you disappeared?

 "I want you to wear it. I want you to promise that you will never leave your tent without this on. I assume if you disappear right in front of someone's eyes, it won't bother me. But if you promise me always to take it off when you sleep, and never to get up without putting it back on, at least then I'll know. If this is left behind, you disappeared, you didn't choose to leave us. If you aren't there and neither is this, we need to look for you. It lets me figure out when to worry, and when to just assume you went home.

 "Promise me?"

 I nodded, touched beyond belief at the gesture from the bard. It hinted that her fears and mine weren't so very different, made me feel slightly less insane for hating to go to sleep like I did. I put the token around my neck, tucking it out of sight, and hugged her gratefully. She seemed to understand that I didn't have the words.

 That night we camped a couple of hours outside of Redcliffe. Everyone was on edge, with armour being polished, weapons sharpened, and no one talking much. Aedan showed me how to sharpen my thin sword and the dagger strapped to my leg, and then I spent some time reminding everyone what we would face. I quietly encouraged Alistair to have his little parentage discussion with Aedan now, rather than wait, and he grimaced but complied. It seemed like everyone else remained unaware, though how they could with Theron sitting right there was beyond me. Even with the different haircut and the bottle-brown disguise, the resemblance between Theron and Alistair was uncanny.

 The plan was relatively simple - they would all aid the townsfolk in preparing for the battle, and then Theron and I would wait in the Chantry during the fight. Theron wasn't pleased, and frankly neither was I, but we all knew it was necessary. We decided that I would be 'Lady Sierra' again, and could therefore claim Theron as my personal bodyguard to explain why he wasn't fighting. I thought letting Teagan know Theron's actual identity would be fine, but Aedan wanted to wait until we had cleared the castle and sedated Connor. And we didn't need anyone else in town knowing, so we all agreed.

 I got a quick lesson from Aedan, with comments thrown in by Theron, on how to address nobility assuming I was truly the daughter of some unknown minor lord. The King, obviously enough, was 'your majesty' or sire. No 'your highness' in Ferelden. A Teyrn or an Arl was 'your Grace' to someone unfamiliar; everyone underneath that was 'my lord'.

 I was sitting by the fire, after everyone had finally crawled off to their tents except Sten who was on watch, when Aedan approached me. He started with a few pleasantries, but I could tell he had something on his mind. He finally got to it after a few awkward minutes.

 "So, why are you here?"

 I blinked, unsure how to answer that. "Did you want me to leave?"

 "No, no. I meant why are you out _here_? Instead of in your perfectly serviceable tent, for example."

 "Oh. Uh, yeah, I...look, I really don't want to talk about it."

 "I notice that when you think we should talk about something, even if we're set on protecting our secrets, you're quite single-minded. But you have quite a few secrets of your own, it seems. I would normally try to respect your privacy, but I think in this circumstance I'm going to have to insist. There's something very wrong, and everyone can tell. It's impacting your ability to cope, and we need you alert. So please. Tell me. Is it Duncan? Or something back in your world? I won't tell everyone, I promise."

 I examined his face, seeing only worry for me there. I thought back to being so exhausted I was forced to ride the cart. I sighed.

 "I'm afraid to sleep alone."

 "What? Do you normally share a bed with someone at home? I had understood you to be unmarried."

 "I'm not married. It's not a problem there, I sleep alone no problem. It's just here." I struggled to make sense of it myself, never mind explain. _Impossible_. "I can't defend myself. What if we get attacked while I'm sleeping? I know for a fact that one morning we're going to be ambushed by shrieks."

 Aedan studied my face, his expression thoughtful. "It's a good point, although I think we should have decent warning given how you've changed our watch schedule. And while I'm sure it's part of the reason, your face says there's more."

 "Look, I...I hate not knowing what's going to happen. Sometimes I sleep and I wake again and everything is fine. Sometimes I sleep and wake up...there. I'm afraid...I don't know. It feels like if I fall asleep, I might just disappear altogether. Maybe never come back. Maybe just die, and never be anywhere. It sounds ridiculous, and having someone share my tent isn't going to prevent any of that but...maybe I'm just afraid of dying alone? I truly don't know. All I know is that the idea of crawling into that tent and just going to sleep in there, all alone, makes me feel like I'll just start screaming and never be able to stop. If I'm out here, at least I'll be so sleepy when I end up in there that I don't notice."

 Aedan examined me for a few more moments, his face sympathetic. I was mortified. It was different with Tomas - it seemed somehow okay to lean on him. I didn't want Aedan to see me as being this weak. He finally pulled me into a fierce hug, which I was suddenly intensely grateful for. I hugged back, a few tears falling, trying to be okay with being vulnerable. I was terrible at it. He finally let me go, wiping a tear away with a calloused finger.

 "So...you're my sister." The way he said it wasn't a question. I nodded - I felt the same. "Which means it would be completely appropriate for me to protect your virtue by insisting you share your brother's tent. What if you move your bedroll into my tent for now? We can make our tent bigger next time we set up camp, but I think we can both fit if we stow our gear in yours. What do you say?"

 My mouth hanging open in shock as I listened, I could only nod gratefully. Twice in one day these people were being incredibly kind to me, when they really didn't need to be.

  _I feel so lucky_.

 I ducked into my tent, quickly, grabbing my bedroll, and he took his large pack out of his tent and tossed it into mine. I placed my bedroll beside his, crawling in and settling down to sleep as he collapsed beside me. I slipped Leliana's amulet over my head and tucked it into the blankets beside me as Aedan watched, curiously.

 "Thanks, Aedan."

 He reached over and took my hand, not letting go. "You're welcome, sister."

 I fell asleep still clutching his hand, and slept better than I had since first finding myself in Ferelden.

 The next morning I woke before Aedan, noting with an embarrassed smile that I still held his hand. I carefully let go, sitting up to rub my eyes. Having slept fully dressed, I decided to head out before I accidentally woke him with my fidgeting. I put the amulet back on, then crawled carefully away, silently slipping through the flap of the tent. I paused at my own tent to grab my pack, and headed down to the stream Bodahn had mentioned. If I was going to play the part of the noblewoman again, I needed to look it.

 As I approached the location where I thought Bodahn had pointed, I heard splashing. Assuming Leliana or Morrigan were already there, I thought to share my shampoo and headed through an opening in a thick hedge towards where the sound originated. I stopped cold, however, and quickly backed away again as I realised that I had incorrectly guessed not only the identity, but also the gender of the bather. Alistair was kneeling, naked I assumed, in waist-deep water, eyes closed while he scrubbed soap into his blond hair.

 His chiselled face was upturned, the early morning light making his skin appear to glow. He had just a hint of stubble on his chin, and it emphasized the masculinity of his strong jaw. Water and soap suds trickled down his neck and chest to dissipate into the stream, highlighting his broad shoulders, tight muscles, and rippling six-pack. He turned to dunk his head, and his equally buff back was also dripping water and soap. My fingers clenched involuntarily, and I realised that I had never wanted to touch anyone in my entire life as much as I wanted to touch him right then. I groaned softly to myself as his impressively firm ass came into view as he stood. I had a minor freak-out – this was actually Alistair. The real one. Gorgeous and built and beautiful and absolutely corporeal, not imaginary. I suddenly panicked, realising that if he turned, I was screwed. I spun, quickly, and hurried back up the trail, plowing straight into a very surprised Aedan.

 "Good morning, Sierra. You're sure up early. I was almost worried when you weren't in the tent when I awoke." His brow wrinkled as he took in my wide eyes, flushed cheeks, and gasping breaths. "What's wrong?"

 "N-nothing, Aedan. Um. The stream is, ah, occupied. I'll come back."

 Dodging around him, I slipped back into camp and crawled into my now empty tent, hoping to God no one else had seen me. I was certain my face was scarlet, and I couldn't seem to burn the image of the naked Greek Adonis that was Alistair out of my brain. Part of me wanted to strip down and fantasize about him like I did in the dark privacy of my bedroom after the romance scenes from the game. Another good sized part wanted me to crawl back out of the tent, go back to the stream, and throw myself on the mercy of the naked man himself. A small part of me seriously considered throwing up. All of the feelings were as embarrassing as they were unwelcome, and I ended up doing none of the above; instead I put my head between my knees, wrapped my arms around myself, and tried to recite annoying quotes from the bible that one of my foster-mothers had made me learn.

  _Wait, hell no. If I'm in Thedas I might at least try to quote the Chant of Light...Great, now all I can think about is the Peas of the Maker and the Bacon and shield, from that crazy sister in Denerim._

 At that I could finally laugh, a little, and decided I was as together as I was likely to get. _I'll never look Alistair in the face again, though..._ With a sigh, I crawled back out of my tent, with pack still in hand, and found Alistair walking by just as I emerged. Avoiding eye contact, face reddening instantly, I heaved my pack onto my shoulder, muttered something about washing, and dashed away. Spotting Leliana, I dragged her with me, making her stand guard so no one wandered in on me the way I did on Alistair. I washed almost frenetically, scrubbing myself thoroughly, washing away the dirt and sweat of a couple of days of hard walking. I washed my hair, rinsed it thoroughly, and then climbed into the safety of my normal clothes, before throwing my dress and cloak overtop.

 Back by the fire, Leliana made a fuss of doing my hair to look the part of the Fereldan noblewoman. She frowned as I strapped my dagger to my thigh under the dress, and then asked Bodahn if he had a sheath for my sword which would work with a dress. He found one which looked mostly like a simple leather belt, but was adjustable enough that I could spin it to hide the sword underneath the cloak. I was surprised, but she just gave me a serious look.

 "You will need to be able to protect yourself. I won't see you helpless." I nodded, and admitted that even though it was heavy, I felt safer with the sword at my hip. _And later I can use it on Alistair if he so much as looks at me._ I sighed and wandered off to pack my belongings and put my tent into Bodahn's cart.

 Once everyone was packed, we bid a temporary goodbye to Bodahn and Sandal, who were going to stay put until we came back for them at the campsite outside the beleaguered town. Setting out at a quick pace, we headed to Redcliffe and whatever uncertainty awaited us there.

 As we walked, Theron approached me, taking my arm and slowing up a bit so that we trailed behind a little. Distracted by my stupid dress and the sword getting stuck in the folds on my cloak, I didn't really notice until we were out of earshot of the rest of the group.

 "Are you really going to stay in the Chantry during the fight?"

 "Yes, Theron, and so are you."

 "But-"

 "No buts. You will stay alive. I have reason to believe that they," I pointed at the group in front of us, "will be fine. I have absolutely no reason to believe the same thing about you. So you will stand in the Chantry and behave like a good bodyguard, and live to see tomorrow, or I will have Aedan and Alistair tie you up and leave you there. Your choice." He was quiet, and I sensed resignation, not resentment. _Thank God for small mercies._

 I sped up again, catching up to Sten, and enjoyed the silence of his company for a while. Theron went to walk with Aedan and Alistair, the three of them trading bullshit like any group of boys. I rolled my eyes and concentrated on just keeping walking. I'd been spoiled by having Bodahn carry all our stuff, and I wasn't really happy to have my heavy pack back on my shoulder.

 By the time we were close enough to see the smoke from the pyres burning in Redcliffe, I was in agony, again. I tried valiantly to hide my discomfort, and mostly succeeded. As before, Alistair was the only one to notice. He took the strap off my shoulder, looking confused and slightly offended as I blushed and refused to meet his gaze. Shrugging, but ever the gentleman, he shouldered my pack alongside his own and walked on. I followed, miserable to have hurt him, even unintentionally, but absolutely unable to ever explain.

 When we reached Redcliffe, Aedan took the lead with Sten, Leliana, Morrigan (who had landed and joined us just before we hit the edge of the cliff), and Alistair falling in behind him, Prince at his side. Theron had taken my pack and hovered behind me, helmet on, hand on the pommel of his sword, looking every inch the protective bodyguard. We followed the sentry down to the Chantry and were ushered inside to meet with Bann Teagan.

 He greeted Aedan and company like a man who has just been thrown a lifeline when he was convinced he was going to drown. He was polite to me, hurrying to offer ‘Lady Sierra of Wentwater’ a seat, but really only paid attention to those he thought could fight. The poor man looked exhausted, and I wondered if he'd had any sleep at all in the last few days. He was almost in tears when Aedan told him that they would help defend the village.

 I followed them outside, Theron hovering, as they spoke with the Mayor and split up tasks. Aedan went off to deal with the reluctant, drunk blacksmith and get him working. It took a bit of doing, but I had convinced Leliana to speak with Ser Perth and then cajole the Revered Mother into a little white lie to improve morale. Alistair, Theron, and Sten went to the village store and picked up massive barrels of lamp oil to ignite the path and hopefully slow, if not re-kill, the undead up the hill. Morrigan went...I have no idea what she was doing, actually. Prince was largely running around and smelling the entire town, including the pyres burning the remains of the attackers and those that had perished from the night before. I spoke with several of the families in the Chantry, giving reassurance as much as I could, and went and found the little boy who had run away from his sister. I ran into Aedan, who had finished with the blacksmith, and talked him into coming with me to the home of Dwyn, the dwarf mercenary I knew was hiding out in town.

 Aedan picked the lock to Dwyn’s place – I wondered where he’d learned those skills – and we were in. It smelled like a locker-room for a high school football team, mixed with stale beer. Ugh, man sweat. Why don’t they have deodorant in Ferelden? I took a moment to thank the Maker (or whoever) that my companions had adjusted to bathing as frequently as I liked to, so most of them were not as pungent. I shuddered as I considered a future travelling with Oghren. Aedan managed to convince Dwyn to fight while I was daydreaming, offering that both he and I would favourably mention him to the Bann and the Arl, but I shocked even Aedan when I spoke.

 "Dwyn, may I ask, have you recently bought any new weapons?" I smiled sweetly, trying to look girly. _Knowing my luck I probably just look constipated or something_. I persevered. "I heard a rumour that a brave dwarf near these parts might have bought a Qunari blade in the last few weeks."

 "What's it to you, sweetheart?" Aedan tensed at my side and I gestured at him to stay out of it.

 "I'd like to buy it from you, actually." Both Dwyn and Aedan stared at me, dumbstruck, and I laughed. "Come now. Will you show it to my friend here? Please?"

 Muttering to himself, Dwyn stomped into a back room. I heard some cursing, some rustling, and a loud squeak, and then he reappeared with the largest sword I'd ever seen. Aedan examined it with interest, but I didn't even try to pick it up. I doubted I'd be able to even carry it, nevermind swing it.

 Dwyn named a ridiculous price, and Aedan immediately countered far too low. As they haggled, Aedan was getting frustrated and it seemed like Dwyn was being a jerk, just because he could. And then I got an idea.

 "Wait, Aedan. You know what? Instead of buying it, maybe I'll just go and get Sten." Aedan caught on to my bluff right away.

 "Who's Sten?"

 "Oh, you know who I mean. Seven feet tall, cranky disposition? The one who murdered eight people with his bare hands just because they didn't know where this sword was? I'm sure if I tell him that Dwyn here knows where it is, he'll be quite reasonable when he comes to collect it."

 Dwyn’s face paled, and he held his hand up in a conciliatory fashion. I wondered if he’d ever met an angry Qunari before. "Wait now, sweetheart, don't be hasty. I didn't say I wouldn't sell it. How about we make a deal." I nodded, and he and Aedan agreed on a price we could live with. Dwyn promised to be out in the square when night fell, and Aedan hoisted the enormous weapon on his shoulder as we strolled back through the village.


	14. Staying Calm

#  Chapter Fourteen: Staying Calm

We met up with the others, who had just finished their chores as well. With just a nod, Aedan handed the blade off to Sten. He took it, dumbstruck, and Leliana had to grab an arm to drag him with them as they all headed to the tavern to relax for a few minutes before the battle. I went back to the Chantry, as a noblewoman would not be seen sitting and drinking in a local tavern, especially with a bunch of fighters. As they left, I gave Aedan a look and he nodded - I had told him to recruit Lloyd and Berwick, and he remembered.

 In the Chantry, I took off my cloak and surreptitiously covered my sword so no one would see. I sat with a very anxious Bann Teagan and tried to raise his spirits. We talked about my pretend family, and though I wasn't claiming a lover in Redcliffe this time, he seemed fascinated by my story of a horrible upbringing with a mad elderly father who never let me go outside. He very seriously told me that he would help protect me from my father should he come looking, and invited me to stay safely in Redcliffe once the castle's undead problem had been dealt with. I wondered if he was flirting with me or just trying to distract himself from his worries. If it was flirting, it wasn’t a serious attempt, and it occurred to me that maybe he just flirted with all eligible noblewomen like that. I made a conscious effort to dial it back a bit. I didn't need Theron jealous or any more reasons to be embarrassed among my companions. Or any guilt later, in case he was serious, about misleading Teagan when I knew damn well I wasn't ever going to be any nobleman's wife.

 I was unfailingly positive that we would be fine through the night, and my optimism seemed to rub off on him a little. He sat a bit straighter, smiled a bit more, and some of the lines on his tired but handsome face eased. As it happened, the villagers huddled in the Chantry also seemed to pick up on the mood, and soon everyone seemed a bit more hopeful. I offered Mother Hannah help with tending the wounded, which she declined, but when I learned that there were two tiny orphans around, whose parents had been killed the first night of the attacks, I immediately sought them out. They were about two and three, I figured, both walking but only the older talking beyond a few garbled words. I dug through my pack and found them some bread and cheese, kneeling down to their level and offering it by the simple expedient of placing it in their chubby little hands.

 I had always been good with children, a result of necessity when living in foster care with multiple kids; I soon was sitting on the floor with the two of them curled up against my side, eating and snuggling their little faces into the fake velvet of my dress. I didn't have any books, so I started telling fairy tales from home as much as I could recall. I soon had a small audience of the other children trapped in the Chantry with their mothers, and I tried my best to keep their minds off what was happening. I told the stories of the little mermaid, and Cinderella, and the old lady in the shoe, even adapting the story of Wall-E to be about golems and a boat that was sailing on a lake rather than robots in space. I talked until I was hoarse, still sitting on the floor, now with two children sleeping in my arms, grateful parents coming to collect the other little ones as they saw that I couldn't keep going.

 Aedan, Alistair, and the others came to see me before the locked the doors to the Chantry. I was stroking the soft hair of the two tiny angels who were still sleeping, thumbs in mouths and their heads on my lap. Leliana, eyes bright, helped me settle them on the floor on top of my blanket, with my cloak over them to keep them warm. This revealed the sword I had been hiding under the cloak, and I just shrugged as Teagan gave me a strange look. I left it sheathed, but kept it with me. I hugged each of my companions, including an incredulous Sten and a surprised (but pleased) Alistair, begging them to be careful. Then the Chantry doors swung shut and the bars dropped, Theron and I stuck inside and the rest of our friends stuck outside.

 I settled near the Chantry doors, and Theron stiffly sank to the floor beside me. Teagan did the rounds, ensuring everyone was as settled as they could be, then also took position on the floor near us. Teagan again glanced at my sword. I leaned over to whisper softly, so that no one else in the Chantry would hear.

 "I don't think we need to worry, but I believe in being prepared. I am not a helpless child, to sit in here relying entirely on others to protect me. If, by some terrible occurrence, the creatures manage to get through the defenses and enter this building, I will not stand by and watch us all be slaughtered. Whatever it takes," I looked back at the tiny kids sleeping curled in my cloak, "I will not let anything happen to these people. We will fight, and we will prevail, because the alternative is unthinkable."

 Teagan studied my face in surprise, and I wondered if I had just blown my cover as a noblewoman. I had thought that it wasn't uncommon for Fereldan women to train, to fight, but perhaps that had just been for the benefit of any women who wished to play the game. But as my gaze passed over Theron's face, he gave me a smile and a slight nod (which looked to be perhaps pride?), and I figured I couldn't have blown it too badly. Theron himself propped his shield against his knees, unsheathed his sword and left it close at hand, and gave the impression of being a one-man army. Even Teagan fingered the sword at his own waist, and I knew that, should the worst happen, at least three of us would fight to protect the innocents huddled behind us in the flickering candlelight.

 So, we waited. The people behind us slowly seemed to fall into a fitful sleep, and everything became deathly quiet. Only the three of us near the door could hear the muffled shouts and the clash of steel on steel through the enormous Chantry doors. But nothing ever seemed to approach the doors themselves, and the sounds remained soft and unobtrusive.

 After a while, I think I drowsed, leaning back against a pillar, chin on my chest, only to wake every few minutes listening to the minutest sounds filtering through the doors. I had no idea of the passage of time, and after a bit got up to pace lest I become too stiff with the sitting. Theron shadowed me, and Teagan did the same, periodically; we were the only movement in the stuffy building. When my legs were no longer stiff, I sat again. In this way, we passed a very boring, very tense night.

 I was startled awake by an insistent knocking on the Chantry door. There was a rhythm to it - two knocks, pause, then three more knocks, and this was repeated several times before anyone inside had the presence of mind to get up and unbar the doors. When we did, we were greeted by the sight of a group of villagers, only one or two less than there had been yesterday, crudely armed and armoured, the dwarf and his men, and my companions. Everyone was covered in something sticky, but none of it looked like their blood. I studied each in turn, looking for any sign of injury, and finally allowing a sigh of relief to pass through me once I convinced myself they were all whole.

 Teagan gave a short but heartfelt speech thanking each of the people who had fought to defend Redcliffe. Afterwards, I helped to organise the villagers into groups - kids and anyone who seemed squeamish to go gather wood for pyres, the rest to remove valuables from the recently re-dead and drag their corpses to a pile behind the Chantry. Mother Hannah came out to say a few words over the largely unrecognisable corpses and then we consigned them all to the fire.

 Inside the Chantry, I consulted with Mother Hannah regarding the orphans. She promised to care for them and try to find them homes, and I left her with a small pile of silver to ensure they had everything they needed. They might end up like me, passed from one resentful substitute parent to another, but I swore to myself that if I was ever able I'd do something to help them. I walked away, after one last snuggle, unshed tears glistening in my eyes. Aedan, who knew a little of my past, wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we walked up the hill to the Windmill to meet Teagan.

 Once at the windmill, no one had a better plan, so we chose to do exactly what had been decided in game. Isolde showed up; Teagan gave his ring to Aedan to access the secret passageway. He went with Isolde inside the castle, and Theron and I were to stand by the castle gates with Ser Perth and his men until the rest of the group could fight their way through to open them. With another hug for luck for each of my new friends, I walked to my assigned place and waited again. I could sense Theron getting frustrated, but knew of nothing that would soothe his wounded pride at having been left behind, or his impatience at having to wait around for others to do what he saw as his job. So I sat, exhausted, while he paced.

 We ate a quick meal with the knights, then waited some more. Finally we heard a creak as a small door, barely visible through the gates, opened to reveal Aedan's wary face. They filed out of the cellar door, looking around and seeing nothing threatening. I realised that even Morrigan was spattered with blood, but no one was limping or otherwise obviously hurt, so I assumed either the blood wasn't theirs or relatively minor injuries had been managed with poultices. Aedan sent Leliana to open the gate for us. Just as she reached the lever, Prince started barking, loudly, and the hair on my arms stood up. We were about to be ambushed, I was suddenly certain, and it was my fault because I'd forgotten this detail.

 As the portcullis rose, so did the bodies strewn all over the ground that somehow we had all managed to ignore. In the blink of an eye, the courtyard was full of rotting undead, archers as well as axe- and sword-bearing zombies, and then the icing on the cake - in the courtyard, nearer Leliana than anyone else, rose a strange, ghostly being, floating above the ground, no real feet or easily distinguished features, just a strangely humanoid-shaped grey blur. _Sonofa...that's a Revenant_.

 A string of curses burst from my mouth as I realised that Leliana was close, too close. I was running, Theron was running, as were Ser Perth and his men, but there wasn't enough time. The Revenant raised its arms, if blobs could be said to have such appendages, and some sort of fel energy gathered between them as it looked at her. I made to stab it with my sword as I drew near, but it seemed to effortlessly flow out of the way. Theron and the knights had all been intercepted by groups of undead. I screamed as the magic gathered, Leliana was already screaming, and suddenly there was an explosion of sorts. Animated corpses started dropping all over the courtyard, like puppets whose strings had been cut. The ball of energy the Revenant had been building just fizzled out, and my sword streaked through where it was still floating, eliciting a high pitched screech. Theron and Ser Perth joined me, and as they hacked at it, chunks of grey mist floated away only to vanish, as did the Revenant moments later.

 I finally looked up to see Aedan and Alistair finish off the last few undead, and the courtyard subsided into total silence. Leliana was on the ground, though struggling to get up, and I stepped over to her, pulling her to her feet, assuring myself that she was fine. Apparently almost losing the only girlfriend I'd ever had scared me more than I wanted to admit, and my eyes were leaking. _Again with the crying!_ I turned to find Morrigan staring at us, and I launched myself in her direction, stumbling over to grab her into a fierce hug, thanking her earnestly for her timely intervention with the Revenant. The witch stiffly pulled away, and I heard her mutter something about 'nothing'.

 "It's not nothing, Morrigan! Leliana could have been killed. Thank you."

 "You aren't listening to me. What I said is that I did nothing. 'Twas not me who caused that explosion, who interrupted that creature. I was too far away, couldn't even sense the spell that did it. I was out of mana because that _oaf_ ," she pointed to Alistair, "accidentally hit me with his templar ability. You should direct your thanks elsewhere." Breaking out of my grasp, Morrigan sniffed once, sounding offended, then turned her back and stalked away, digging through a pouch to find a Lyrium potion.

 I looked over at my other companions, all of whom looked as confused as I felt. We had no other mage. _If it hadn't been Morrigan, who had it been?_ We all shared suddenly uneasy glances.

 Ser Perth, oblivious to what had just happened, came rushing up, asking if we were ready to go inside the main hall of Redcliffe Castle. Trying to put aside our worries, I nodded at the same time Aedan did, and so we all trooped slowly up the steps to the main doors. We traipsed through a foyer and a couple of other rooms before entering the main hall where I knew Connor would be with his mother and the enthralled Teagan. Forewarned by my memories of the events, I heard Morrigan mutter the moment she entered the room and suddenly Connor fell over, snoring, surprised by the apostate's sleep spell. Isolde squealed in concern, bending over her son, while Teagan suddenly looked up from the floor where he'd fallen when clowning around to 'amuse' the abomination.

 I left Alistair and Aedan to explain, with Morrigan's aid, what was happening. I sank into a chair, near the back of the room, suddenly fatigued beyond what I could ever remember. I felt Leliana's hand on my back, could tell from her voice that she was concerned, but I couldn't even bring myself to focus on her words. Her voice was so soothing, especially when Isolde shut up for a second, and I felt myself sinking deeper. Pretty soon there was just nothing.

 When I woke, I opened my eyes to pitch blackness. Despite having my eyes closed before that, there wasn't enough light to tell anything about my surroundings. I lifted my hand in front of my face and saw nothing.

 The movement of my arm confirmed for me that I wasn't in some hospital gown, but instead in the commoner dress Leliana had bought for me in Lothering. _Okay, still in Thedas then_. I felt around me, realising I was on a real bed. I rolled cautiously, putting my feet on the floor and sitting up. Barefoot, toes on a stone floor. I eased myself to stand, then cautiously walked forward, hands out, one small step at a time. I found a wall, and followed it around a corner until I reached what could only be a door. Opening the heavy wooden door with some difficulty, light poured into the room and I breathed a sigh of relief. _Damn good thing I'm not afraid of the dark or claustrophobic._

 I heard a noise behind me, and spun, hands searching for my sword even as I registered that I was completely unarmed. I heard a small chuckle at the movement, and recognised Leliana's voice. A chair scraped, cloth rustled, and the bard, now wearing a simple linen tunic and pants, stepped into the rectangle of light.

 "It's just me, Sierra. I'm sorry about the dark - I must have fallen asleep and let the candle burn out." She stepped out into the hallway, holding something up to the small sconce on the wall opposite the door. A candle, I realised, as it flickered and then lit. Coming back into the room, the small candle gave minimal light, but I could see that we were in a bedroom of sorts, complete with four-poster bed, fireplace (currently unused), and a curtained off area that I guessed contained a chamber pot. There was a small table with a wooden chair, and a larger, padded chair that Leliana had been sitting in.

 "We're in Redcliffe Castle?"

 "Yes. You passed out, down in the main hall. Alistair carried you up here," I grimaced and blushed, "and a maid helped me get you undressed. They've taken your clothes for cleaning, don't panic. And your sword is over there." She pointed at the wall, and I saw my belt hanging from a hook, sword in its sheath. "I promised Aedan I'd stay with you tonight. He seemed really concerned that you not be left alone."

 I smiled softly at his thoughtfulness. _I never knew having a brother would be so nice!_ Leliana noticed.

 "He's special to you." She gave me a suggestive look, and I almost laughed.

 "He is, but not like that Leliana. He's my long-lost brother, I think."

 "Ah. Poor Aedan. And does he know this?"

 "What? Oh. Yes, of course. It's why he's so protective of me. Really, Leliana. Trust me. It's nothing romantic."

 "And what of poor Tomas?" I blinked.

 "What about him?" She rolled her eyes. "Wait, no! It's not like that. If Aedan is my brother, then Tomas is...sort of an adoptive father. Besides, I think he’s asexual."

 "He’s wha..?

 "Uh. Sorry. I mean that he isn't interested in sex, that way."

 "Oh!" Another smirk. "Don't even try to convince me the same about Theron."

 "Oh, he likes sex well enough. But I'm not interested in being his mistress, so..."

 "I somehow don't think he's entirely given up hope on that front."

 "Don't I know it! He's just...not my type."

 "Which indicates that there's someone who is your type."

 "Nope. Not me. I'm type-less."

 "Oh come now, you think I haven't seen it?"

 "Nothing to see. Truly."

 "Uh huh."

 I sighed. "I will never be in a relationship with anyone in Ferelden, Leliana. It's just not part of my future."

 She searched my face, her own teasing smile faltering, as she realised I was serious. I looked away, feeling awkward and somehow miserable at the same time. Finally I changed the subject.

 "What time is it, Leli?"

 Looking delighted at the use of a nickname, the bard set down the candle and darted over to crack open the shutters on the one small window. "I think maybe a couple of hours before dawn."

 "Is it acceptable for me to be seen in these clothes?" Leliana examined me critically before nodding. "Then I think I might go wander around a bit. I'm not tired enough to sleep. Why don't you hop into bed? That chair can't have been very restful."

 "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

 "Yeah. I wouldn't mind having some time to think." I pulled on my boots, which got a funny smirk from Leliana, and left, softly closing the door behind me.

 I wandered down the hall, stopping to listen at doors as I passed, hearing mostly snoring. Guest rooms, I assumed, containing my companions. I found an open archway that lead to a set of stairs, and crept down them quietly. I spotted an empty dining room, a few more closed doors, and an entryway to the main hall. When I looked into a room that was clearly Eamon's study, I couldn't help myself. I rifled his desk and found Alistair's mother's amulet. I put it around my neck for safekeeping, alongside the one from Leliana, and then left again. I had no desire to look through the Arl's papers and personal effects.

 I found a different set of stairs leading up, and crept up them quietly. At the end of the hallway at the top was an open door, leading into an elaborately decorated room. As I wandered towards it, I passed a room with Connor in a bed, Morrigan asleep in a chair by his bedside. A couple of closed doors later, and I stuck my head into what must have been the Arl's bedroom. The man himself was asleep on a huge bed, covered to his chin, his face a strangely ashen grey. I wondered where Isolde was, until I noticed a large, blond man slumped over in a chair by Eamon's bedside. I knew Isolde would never choose to stay in the room with Alistair, so she must have left him there and slept elsewhere. _Bitch. And what an annoying voice._

 I tiptoed into the room, not wanting to wake Alistair or disturb Eamon in any way. Alistair looked even younger than normal, and sweetly innocent, snoring softly in the large chair. The room was chilly; I looked around and found a blanket on a nearby table, gently drawing it over his sleeping form. I stared at him for a couple of moments, still amazed at how difficult it was to come to terms with this reality. On a whim I slipped his mother's amulet off and carefully tucked it around his own neck, then tiptoed back out of the room.

 By the time I made it back into the main hall, the few servants left in the castle had started to stir, and I passed a few people rushing around. They always stopped to bow or curtsy, and it made me feel really awkward. Finally a young woman approached me directly.

 "My Lady? I have returned your garments to your room, cleaned. Would you care for me to have a bath drawn up?" I nodded eagerly, and she smiled shyly. She ducked her head into a side room, muttering instructions to another servant, and then I followed her up to my room to pick up my clothes, sneaking in quietly so as not to disturb Leliana, and then to a nearby bathing room. Several servants were coming and going with buckets of scalding water, filling a large tub. She showed me an assortment of soaps and the like, and they closed the door as they left. I threw the latch, unceremoniously stripped, and climbed eagerly into the hot water. It was hot enough almost to scald me, but I sank into it, uncaring. I soaked for a while, easing the aches and pains of the last day of travel, and allowing myself to relax. _Safe, for five minutes. What a revelation._


	15. Small Pleasures in Dark Times

#  Chapter Fifteen: Small Pleasures in Dark Times

 Once I scrubbed and washed, I dressed with my usual clothes underneath the dress, and opened the door to find the same servant standing outside. She looked surprised to see me, and I started to wonder if she had expected to be required to help me dress. She covered her surprise with an offer to do my hair, which I did take her up on. So I sat while she moved around me, tucking my hair up into an elaborate hairdo with curls that I never usually let loose escaping artfully in places. By the time I got back to my room, Leliana was awake and dressed in her armour, which had also been cleaned, and she beamed as she saw me all fancied up.

 We went down to the main hall together, and I was delighted to be served fruit, bread, cheese, and little sausages, instead of porridge. Alistair, Aedan, Morrigan, and Sten were already there, and Theron joined us shortly. There was a beautiful serving woman who blushed every time she even glanced at Theron, and I was able to make an educated guess what he had been up to the night before. I grimaced, disgusted, and both Leliana and Aedan narrowed their eyes at him. Bann Teagan wandered in just as we were finishing, looking at least slightly more rested. He smiled gratefully at everyone. He came over to bow over my hand, kissing my knuckles, and I heard Leliana cover a snort with a cough; once Teagan released me, I kicked the bard's shin under the table mercilessly. She jumped and grinned at me, unrepentant. Theron glared daggers at Teagan's back the entire time, and Leliana started choking again, meeting my gaze and rolling her eyes with me.

 Everyone enquired about my health, and I tried to brush them all off. Truthfully I had no idea why I had passed out, and wasn't sure I wanted to think about it too carefully. Did it mean there was something wrong with my body back home? _Too many other things to think about. Ignore it._

 I noticed Isolde didn't join us for breakfast, and assumed she was sitting by her son's or her husband's bed. And avoiding Alistair, presumably. I was okay with that – the woman pissed me off on principle, and her voice made my ears bleed. I finally met Jowan, the idiot blood mage, who was being allowed a room in the castle (instead of the dungeon) but was being restricted to the main hall and his own room, and followed everywhere by one of the castle's knights. He had the decency to look no more than slightly resigned at that. Since I figured he was going to end up Tranquil, I figured he'd better get used to it.

 Finally everyone had eaten and it was time to plan. We begged leave to borrow a private room to talk in, and Teagan reluctantly walked away after escorting us to the small private library. Aedan checked for people lurking in the hall or outside the window before we started speaking.

 The obvious starting point was that the group needed to go to Kinloch Hold. We needed Circle mages and Lyrium to free Connor from his possession. And it couldn't wait - there was only so long anyone was going to be able to keep the demon sedated. Morrigan volunteered to stay in Redcliffe, to help Jowan keep Connor asleep, and also since she was the only one who could keep an eye on the blood mage. She claimed that someone had to be awake at all times with Connor, so two mages were sort of necessary. Once the group agreed to that, she opted to leave to do... _I have no idea. Whatever._

 Aedan pointed at myself and Theron next. "You two will stay here as well. I don't want you to reveal Theron's identity until Eamon is healed, but I need you safe." Theron argued, but everyone, including me, was on Aedan's side and eventually he backed down. I wondered how long before he tried to order us to do it his way. I didn't want to find out just how many of us would ignore the order, and what that would do to his apparently fragile ego. I myself wasn't thrilled at being left behind, but really, what did he expect? We'd discussed this before we even arrived.

 The rest of the group planned to cross Lake Calenhad by boat, and then travel the rest of the way on foot - with the shortcut, it should only take two days to get there. We discussed what to expect - convincing Greagoir, finding Wynne, some demons, blood mages, or abominations in pretty much every room past that point. I reminded them about the sloth demon trapping them in the Fade, and to try to remember that it was only a dream. For those companions whose dreams I was aware of, I'd taken each aside and warned them what to expect. When I played the game, I almost always had Alistair, Morrigan, and Wynne as my companions, so I wasn't much help for Sten or Leliana. Using the Litany of Adralla, rescuing Irving and the others, killing Uldred. Aedan figured it would take a day or two to get through the tower, and then two back to Redcliffe. So all told, approximately a week round trip.

 Aedan and Alistair decided to go find Bodahn and grab a couple of tents and some more supplies for the journey, so they all agreed to leave the next day. As most of them had been up late the night before, talking to Teagan and worrying about my unexplained black-out, I was the only one well-rested. They all stumbled off to get some sleep before their journey the next day.

 Deciding that being active might tire me out so I could sleep later, I dressed in my linen pants and shirt, and wandered down to find out where the knights spent their time. I found Ser Perth in the courtyard, training with his men. _Perfect._ I explained to him what I wanted, and he sent me back inside first to find the Redcliffe vault. Running into Teagan on the way, he ushered me to the vault to help as I picked through several sets of armour. I wasn't strong enough for any of the heavy stuff, but we finally found a light enough set of leather armour that would fit, and Teagan handed me a wooden practice sword and escorted me back outside.

 I spent part of the morning walking, running, and jumping around in the armour, with Ser Perth's instructions, trying to get used to the weight and the restricted movement. After an hour of that, he had one of the eldest knights of the bunch agree to work with me. Wayne had trained dozens of knights, and despite a dramatic facial scar, was quite grandfatherly. Until the first time he knocked me down, and then it was all business. He gave me pointers on my stance, my swing, and my dodge. He laughed so hard the first time I tried to attack with the practice sword that I actually got a hit, accidental as it was, on his heaving back as he bent over guffawing.

 Changing tactics, Wayne had me put down the sword and work for a while on hand-to-hand combat. He informed me that as clueless as I was about fighting in general, giving me a sword was just giving me permission to stab myself. He encouraged me to stop thinking so much - rapping me on the head as I hesitated, trying to think about what to do next - and I finally started using my instincts, a little at least. I had taken a self-defense class as an option in University, and the brawling seemed to build on that a bit. I was able to use my smaller size and my speed to my advantage, learning grabs and throws. He started pitting me against some of the younger knights, and with a bit of work, I was actually able to grapple one to the ground and make him submit. Everyone cheered, and I realised most of my companions had wandered out to watch while I had been distracted. The good-natured lad allowed me to pull him up before saluting me and stumbling off to hide from the ridicule of his peers. I was exhausted, sweaty again, but somewhat happier. I limped – my body, as much better as it was than the one at home, wasn’t used to the movements, and I swore I pulled something in my hip when I had made that last throw. Wayne handed me a small vial of red liquid, similar to the poultices I’d seen with Duncan, and smiled as I drank it. I took my leave from the knights, promising to return the next morning.

 I wasn't exactly hungry after the exertion - one reason I didn't really exercise at home was it made me nauseous afterwards - but knew I needed something, so Leliana and I found a servant who agreed to bring a platter into the library for us, where we both sat, me exhausted, her thoughtful.

 "Teagan's quite attractive, isn't he?" She grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. I threw an apple at her, which she caught and bit into with relish.

 "Am I seriously the only single woman, who isn't obviously an apostate or from Orlais, in all of Ferelden? Honestly, you'd think they all hadn't seen a girl before."

 "Well, you are quite beautiful, Sierra. And you blush so prettily every time one of them looks at you! You can't blame them for being besotted."

 "Yes I can," I grumbled, and Leliana laughed, her musical voice making even that sound enchanting.

 Somehow Leliana managed to draw me into a conversation about shoes - she was horrified that I was wearing my boots under my velvet gown - and that's how the rest of the group found us a while before dinner. Aedan and Alistair were covered in dust from their trek to Bodahn's camp and back, and that turned into a discussion where I bemoaned the lack of indoor plumbing in Ferelden. I explained what showers were, and got a variety of reactions; longing from some, horror at the thought of standing under a spray like that from others. Sten merely wondered if we made showers for anyone his height, as Ferelden definitely didn't make bathtubs with Qunari in mind.

 A servant informed us that Bann Teagan awaited us for the evening meal in the main hall, and we all climbed to our feet to join him. Alistair pulled me aside, quickly, a silly grin on his face.

 "If I tell you a secret, will you keep it to yourself?"

 "Of course. You don't see me spilling your other secrets to anyone, do you?"

 "This one is special, though. I know of a place, a way you can have pretty close to a - what did you call it? A shower? - right here in Redcliffe. But you can't tell anyone, okay? I found it when I was young, and I don't want everyone to know."

 "A shower? How?"

 He proceeded to tell me about a way to get under the castle, wiggle through a place where part of a back wall had caved in, climb over some rocks, and end up somewhere in the foundation of the castle. There was a little room, probably formed by the flowing water over many years, where water from the lake poured down, drained across the floor, and out a hole on the opposite side. And the room, he had figured, was right underneath the kitchens, so it was actually quite warm, even in winter. There was even a little natural ledge to put your clothes. The water was apparently cold, but the water pressure sounded wonderful. I agreed readily to keep his secret, and made plans to visit there as soon as I could. I worked really hard not to picture the body I had accidentally seen in the stream standing under a waterfall - _get a grip, Sierra!_

 At dinner, everyone was still a bit subdued, the horrors of the last several days still fresh, but we had a few laughs. Everyone was astounded at how much Aedan and Alistair could eat, and they were forced to admit it was a Grey Warden thing. When Aedan tried to insist that he didn't eat nearly as much as Alistair, the templar threw a bun at his head. It missed, hitting Sten instead, which caused everyone to absolutely crack up as the Qunari jumped up and challenged Alistair to a duel to the death. Aedan and Leliana stopped laughing long enough to soothe the giant into withdrawing the challenge, with some discussion about how unworthy Alistair was to duel with Sten, and how we really did sort of need all the Grey Wardens we could find to combat the Blight.

 Sten stalked off to bed, and Morrigan also excused herself. Isolde hadn't joined us, and Teagan apologised on her behalf, explaining that she was alternating meals between Connor's room and Eamon's. So that left just Teagan, Aedan, Alistair, Theron, Leliana, and I. And Prince, of course, gnawing on a bone in the corner. Teagan offered us wine, which everyone accepted but me. Somewhere, Leliana had found a lute, and with some begging and pleading, she settled onto a stool and played and sang for us. Her voice rang sweet and clear, and we were all mesmerised.

 After a couple of songs - played just to showcase her talent, I'm sure - she switched from classical and beautiful to upbeat and funny. She had several of the boys banging the table in time, and finally it was too much. Teagan jumped up from his chair, grabbing my hands to pull me out of mine, and started spinning me around. I had no idea how to dance - I'd never danced on Earth, nevermind in Thedas, and I kept tripping over my heavy boots. When I tried to use them as an excuse, he pushed me back into my chair, knelt in front of me, and pulled off both boots and socks before I could even complain. Grabbing me up again, he spun me and twirled, and I clung to him just to avoid falling over or spinning out of control. When he had me close, he actually convinced me to stand on his own sturdy boots, and showed me the steps. It left me slightly off balance, but his hands were sure, and my reflexes better in this body than I was used to, and before I knew it we were dancing.

 Suddenly he let go, and I wobbled around looking for my chair, only to find Aedan standing right behind me. He grabbed me just as Teagan had, and started spinning me again. I began to giggle as I was passed from Aedan, to Theron, and back to Teagan again, spinning wildly around the room, never able to fully catch my breath before the next partner grabbed me again. I spun one final time, and a very hesitant Alistair stood smiling at me hopefully. I took his offered hands and twirled into his arms, and despite neither of us really knowing the steps, it felt...perfect. We both seemed to know exactly how the other was going to move, and I thought I might even look graceful in spite of myself. My face was red, and I hoped everyone would think it was purely exertion. We finally spun to a stop as Leliana ended the music, and Alistair assisted me to my chair before bowing, slightly formally, both to me and to Bann Teagan, and taking his leave presumably to go get some sleep before tomorrow.

 Theron smirked arrogantly at me before also taking his leave, and Teagan kissed my hand again before heading to his own room. Aedan pulled me aside to check what I was going to do for the night, so I asked Leliana if she'd be willing to share with me again. She nodded, a slightly confused look on her face, so I reassured Aedan and followed the bard up to my room. Once the door was closed, she turned, looking slightly concerned.

 "Are you unwell?"

 "No, I'm fine. Why?"

 "I don't understand why you wish me to share your room."

 I sighed. "Long story, but basically I find I am unable to sleep here unless I'm either completely exhausted or not alone. Look, if you'd prefer not to..."

 "No, it's fine. I don't mind. I just...expected you to be worried about sharing a bed with me."

 "Why? Do you kick in your sleep or something?"

 "Well, probably, but that's not my concern. You know about Marjolaine....and me. Together."

 "Uh, yeah?"

 "Sierra, you're a very attractive woman."

 "Oh, I see. You think I should fear for my virtue?"

 "I suppose that's one way to put it."

 "Alright. Let's just stop dancing around this. You're not super-picky about the gender of the person you love. I'm pretty sure that doesn't mean you're helpless to fight the urge to ravish me the minute I let my guard down. You're aware that I like men, and yes, I have given it some thought, but women just don't do it for me. I trust you not to do anything inappropriate, and really trust me I'm not that great a catch anyway. So if you are okay with it, and you promise not to grope me in my sleep, I promise not to tell anyone that you kick in yours. Deal?" Leliana broke out laughing, and I grinned impishly.

 "You're a very strange woman, Sierra."

 "You have no idea."

 At that, I stripped out of my clothes, put on a t-shirt with my panties, and climbed into bed. I carefully hung Leliana's amulet off the headboard, and she smiled. I gestured to the other half of the generous bed, and she finally shrugged, shucking her own clothes, and crawled in beside me.

 "Thanks for the music tonight, Leli. It was wonderful to laugh and forget for five minutes that the world is trying to end."

 "My pleasure."

 I was fighting my drooping eyelids, but losing the battle. I tried to mumble something else, but failed, falling deeply asleep. I woke when the bed shifted, a few moments later, and opened my eyes to see morning sunlight peeking through the window. Leliana was climbing out of bed, trying to be quiet, so I cleared my throat to let her know I was awake and sat up.

 "How can it be morning already? I just fell asleep."

 "Go back to sleep, Sierra dear. It's still early."

 "I want to see you off." I shrugged off her suggestion, getting up and changing into my trousers and shirt again. She donned her leather armour, packed her things into her bag, and signaled that she was ready. I followed her down to the main hall, meeting up with the rest of our group except Morrigan and Theron. Teagan even came down and wished everyone an easy trip. _Too bad we already know that's unlikely._ I walked the group down to the docks, hugging each as they boarded the small boat Teagan had promised them. Hugging Sten was like hugging a wall. _I need to stop doing that_. I watched, trying to avoid tears, as they cast off and the rowers started moving them away from the dock.

 There was mist on the lake, and I lost them in it shortly. Turning around, I headed back to the castle, trying not to worry about them. _Trying not to wonder where I'm going to sleep._ As I entered the courtyard, I saw Wayne, and my spirits lifted. I shouted that I would change into armour and be right back, and he laughed as I eagerly ran up the steps to the castle. _A bit of exhausting, mindless brawling is exactly what I need._

 Back down into the training yard in just a couple of minutes, I grinned as I saw Wayne's surprise at how fast I'd been. I imagined most ladies in Ferelden can't just change without help and lots of time. I spent a few minutes again adjusting to the weight of the armour, and then Wayne started drilling me on the brawling moves I'd learned. There was only one I was any good at, which I’d learned in self-defense class, and he told me that even in armed combat it would serve me well - no one would expect it from me, being small compared to the average opponent I was likely to face. I basically tossed a ‘bad guy’ across my back and to the ground. Apparently it looked quite graceful when done right (not that you could see that when I did it), and most men relying on swords would never know how to guard against it. I practiced it until I could do it in my sleep – to an unprepared, inexperienced foe, at any rate. It was good for the Redcliffe Knights as well - I could see them re-evaluating their skills as they tried to counter the various throws and trips that Wayne was teaching

 Once convinced that I could be taught, and after quaffing the contents of another red vial, Wayne again allowed me a practice sword. I spent the rest of the morning, alongside a couple of raw recruits, practicing various sword forms and stances. Wayne was right - once I'd learned to stop over-analysing every move, I was much better. I probably would never be an expert swordsman, but I could hopefully at least avoid stabbing myself with a bit more practice, maybe even defend myself if required. I briefly wondered if I'd be able to translate any of the skills I'd learned into my real body at home. Not that sword fighting was much in-demand, or anything.

 Finally happily exhausted, I turned to head into the castle in search of food, and was seriously considering using Alistair's waterfall, when I ran into Mother Hannah from the Redcliffe Chantry.

 "Oh! Pardon me, Mother. How is everyone faring in the village?"

 "As well as can be expected, my lady, and thank you for asking. Actually, I was just here talking to Bann Teagan about the orphans you met the other night. He's been kind enough to fund a small orphanage to be set up, and I was hoping he could spare some servants to help run the place. I hadn't quite realised how bad things were at the castle, I suppose, and there's really no one to spare. I don't know what to do - I only have a couple of Sisters, and neither of them are really good with children."

 "You know what? I have an idea. I need to get a bit cleaned up and have a bite to eat, but would you be available to meet with me in a couple of hours? Let me see what I can do to help."

 She agreed, a hopeful look replacing the worried one she'd been wearing, and left for the village. I wandered inside, asking a servant for a bucket of warm water and some towels to clean myself up with, and headed to my room to do just that. I changed into the simpler linen dress Leliana bought me, instead of the fancy velvet one, and plodded back down into the main hall. Teagan was there, eating distractedly with a pile of papers in front of him. I asked a servant for something to eat, and joined him at the table.

 "Good afternoon, my lord."

 "And to you, my lady. Missing your friends already?"

 I nodded. "Hopefully they will be back in a week or so."

 "I hear you have taken to embarrassing the new Knight recruits on the practice field while we wait." I giggled and he grinned.

 "It's not my fault if they can't prevent being beat up by a girl!"

 We chatted for a bit, and then I mentioned running into Mother Hannah.

 "She told me that you were willing to help fund somewhere for the orphans to go. Is that true, my lord?"

 "It is. And I hear you gave her some coin as well. Sadly it might not work out; it seems we have a significant lack of people to take care of the children."

 "I have an idea about that. Would you be opposed to paying someone to do it?"

 "I have no objection, no. What did you have in mind?"

 "I need to figure some things out. Let me get back to you." We talked a bit about the budget he had set for the orphanage, and I asked a few questions about how much different types of work might pay in a village like Redcliffe. He looked at me strangely, but answered my questions honestly.

 Finally fed, I took my leave of Teagan and walked down into the village. I hadn't seen Theron all day, so I went alone. First I stopped at the tavern, then I went into the village proper and found the small house I was familiar with from the first day we'd spent preparing the town for the attack. After a brief visit, I met two young women outside the Chantry a few minutes later. They curtsied to me, and then fell into step behind me as I went inside in search of Mother Hannah.

 We found her in the back of the Chantry sitting at a small desk piled with books. When she saw me enter, she motioned to a chair beside the desk, but then looked uncertainly at the two women with me. I gestured for them to stay a little bit away, and they turned to chat with one another quietly.

 Mother Hannah gave me a confused look and I smiled.

 "I have your orphanage workers for you, Mother." I nodded in the direction of Kaitlyn and Bella. "And if you agree, I think I even have a location for you."

 I outlined my plan, in which the orphanage would be set up in the home formerly owned by Kaitlyn's parents, and now occupied only by the young woman and her brother. Kaitlyn and Bevin would share a bedroom, another would hold Bella, and the rest of the house could be converted to play rooms and bedrooms for the orphans. They would need more space eventually, but for now with just a few children, it actually fit perfectly. Kaitlyn needed some sort of work to support herself and her brother, and she was used to taking care of Bevin so she was good with kids. Bella was a bit older and miserable in her job at the tavern. They were both kind, and both were eager for the chance to do something worthwhile, especially if they could also be paid for it. I explained the salaries I expected would need to be paid, and the money to essentially pay rent on the house, which would add up to less than Bann Teagan had offered for the budget. But the Chantry would have the responsibility of overseeing things, making sure the children were well cared for, and for that they could have the rest of Bann Teagan's coin.

 Mother Hannah thoughtfully eyed the two young women, and then agreed that the solution at least made a great deal of sense. She wanted to speak with Kaitlyn and Bella herself, but I was confident it would work out. I left her to discuss the arrangement with the girls and spent the rest of the afternoon, on the floor of the Chantry, playing with the two adorable toddlers I'd met that first night. They remembered me, and soon were climbing all over me as I laughed and tickled them. It felt good to be able to relax for a while, and despite the noise I think everyone was so happy to see the tragic young faces smiling for once that we didn't get so much as a dirty look.

 Thoroughly sweaty and now covered with dust from crawling around on the floor, I headed back to the castle a bit before supper so I would have the chance to wash up before eating. A servant was happy to arrange a bath for me, and while I was left to do my hair without help, I managed to put it up and left a few curly tendrils hanging near my face as she had showed me. A quick glance in my tiny compact mirror confirmed I was as good as I was likely to get and I descended to the main hall for supper.

 It was a much quieter evening, with just Teagan, Theron, Morrigan and myself. I told Teagan the arrangements I had made for the orphanage and he was impressed that I had worked it out so well, without exceeding his budget, and with Chantry approval. I felt just a little better that the sweet tiny people I'd wanted to protect would be cared for better than I had been.

 After dinner, Teagan asked me to take a walk with him, and I felt it would be impolitic to refuse. Somehow Theron's extremely dirty look did not deter me in the least. Morrigan smirked and disappeared back upstairs. Teagan had a servant fetch my cloak, and then offered me his arm and led me upstairs and out a door to the castle's battlements. It was a beautifully clear evening, and the stars were stunning; as I looked out over the lake, I thought I could even see the Circle Tower in the distance.

 Finally he spoke. "My lady-"

 "Sierra. Please, my lord. I feel so awkward with such formality."

 "Then you must call me Teagan." I nodded agreement, giving him a small smile. "You are not what I expected."

 I chuckled. "I have no doubt that is true, my l...Teagan."

 "You're clearly a noblewoman, yet even your ignoble friends treat you like an equal. You're uncomfortable with titles, though you must have used them your entire life. Your bodyguard looks at you like a beggar might stare at a free meal. You can't fight, yet you would offer yourself in defense of strangers. You care about everyone, regardless of station; you crawl around on the floor with orphans. You travel with Grey Wardens, you somehow share a mabari with one, and you wear the strangest boots I've ever seen even underneath a beautiful dress.

 "I do not know what to think of you, Sierra."

 "I am not surprised, Teagan."

 "You're not going to tell me what you're hiding, are you."

 "No, my lord. I'm sorry, but I can't. I truly wish I could; I hate all of this. The lying."

 He sighed, and I echoed him. My hand slipped from his arm and I hugged myself, leaning against the low wall of the battlement, looking out over the village of Redcliffe, wishing yet again I was a better actor. I felt his hand on my shoulders, his presence almost palpable against my back.

 "I won't ask questions. I will trust you. But please. If there is anything I can do, any help I can offer, you only need to ask."

 "Thank you Teagan. I truly appreciate it, but...may I ask why? You have no reason to trust me."

 "I like to think I'm a pretty good judge of character. You don't say everything, but you mean the things you do say. And generally I'd say the company someone keeps gives an indication of their worth. If Alistair believes in you, I could do no less.

 "And, well...I guess I'm a sucker for a beautiful woman in trouble."

 Without even thinking, I pulled away slightly, self-conscious. Teagan withdrew his hand, stepping back and moving to stand beside me.

 "There's someone else." He didn't word it as a question. I didn't deny it, I couldn't, but I wasn't about to wade into that conversation either. _'I think I'm in love with a man I thought was only a fictional character, but I realise I don't deserve him now that I know he's real, or perhaps he's not and I'm just crazy, and you're all figments of my imagination.'_ I just couldn't see that ending well.

 "You are a remarkable man, Teagan. One day, you will meet someone who will be the luckiest woman alive when she captures your heart. I wish I could be her, in so many ways, but...that's just not possible, for me."

 Suddenly chilled, and more than a little bit awkward, I excused myself and slipped inside. I ran to my room, wishing to be alone, but once I was the daunting prospect of sleeping alone in the big bed overwhelmed me. I cried for a bit, unsure whether I was crying for myself, or Teagan, or what I could have had if only everything wasn't so messed up, or for what I worried was happening to my companions as they travelled to Kinloch Hold.

 I finally moved the big winged chair over in front of the fireplace, which I lit using my handy Zippo. I opened the copy of the Chant of Light that Leliana had borrowed from the castle's library and left behind in the room. I read confusing religious prose by firelight until I fell asleep curled in the chair.


	16. Self-Defense

#  Chapter Sixteen: Self Defense

 The next morning, instead of going down to the main hall, I asked a servant to bring me something for breakfast. She also offered to have my clothes washed, to which I readily agreed. After I ate, I buckled myself into my borrowed leather armour, grabbed the practice sword, and headed down to the courtyard hoping to locate Wayne. He wasn't there, but a few of the guys I'd brawled with the day before were around, so after warming up a bit, we resumed practice. A couple of times the young knights managed to get a hold on me, or get in a lucky hit, but for the most part I was able to take most of them down with the throws Wayne had taught. We joked good-naturedly about it, and then I fell to practicing my sword forms and footwork. A couple of the more experienced knights called out corrections or suggestions, but for the most part I practiced alone until lunch.

 Deciding that I couldn't avoid Teagan forever, I ate in my armour in the main hall. Teagan was polite, and smiled at me, but was back to calling me 'my lady' and we only talked about neutral topics. Afterwards he excused himself to do some business down in the village, and I decided it would be an ideal time to try to find Alistair's 'shower'. I begged a spare loose-fitting dress from Isolde, which I thought would fit me, if only just, and gathered up a bundle of things including my soaps, shampoo, and a towel I borrowed.

 I snuck down into the bowels of the castle, heading through storerooms and long disused hallways. I carried a candle, which I lit as I got to a hallway without sconces lit like in the rest of the castle. I avoided the dungeons, as my destination wasn't near there, to my relief. After a few wrong turns, I found the crack in the foundation that he had mentioned, squeezing through, and then following the sound of running water.

 Alistair was right about the warmth; despite the cold water, the room was quite comfortable. Sunlight filtered in to the room through a few holes in the rock opposite where the waterfall flowed. I set the candle protectively in the corner, sure I'd never get back if it went out. I stripped off my armour, folding it onto a dry spot on the floor, but putting my borrowed dress, towel, and clean spare undergarments on the little ledge that seemed purpose built for holding clothes. The floor was slightly slippery, and I cautiously eased my way to stand under the full blast of water coming from a crack in the far wall.

 The water pressure was almost enough to bowl me over, and I stood under the full brunt of it only for a few seconds, before sidling over towards the corner where the spray was soft enough for me to wash. I scrubbed myself with a small cloth until I was too cold to continue, then stepped out of the spray to wash my hair. I warmed up quickly in the heat of the room, so I braved the spray again to rinse out the suds.

 I dried myself off with the towel, and slowly started to dress. I marvelled at the crazy construction that allowed this little room to exist, with no one above aware of its presence. I had just succeeded in putting on bra and underwear, still gawking around, when I was startled by a hand on my waist. I heard a voice say something that I couldn't quite make out through the thundering sound of the waterfall, and instinct kicked in before I could think.

 I grabbed the wrist of the hand at my waist, turning away, bending forward, and twisting my hips as Wayne had taught me, and tossed the offender to the ground with a thump. Thinking frantically, I kept spinning with the momentum of the throw, reaching to grab the dagger out of the sheath on the ground with my armour, and then spun again to drop onto the back of my attacker, arm around his neck in a submission hold and the point of the dagger just barely digging in to the skin over his jugular.

 At which point I finally looked at the person I had thrown, and realised I knew him. He was now slightly damp, face down on the slippery rock floor, and blood was trickling from where my dagger had pierced, but there was no mistaking that stylish brown hair or strong jaw.

 "Theron!" I hissed. "What in the hell are you doing down here?"

 "If you get off my chest, I'll better be able to answer that, Sierra."

 "No. Answers first. You don't sneak in and lay hands on a half-naked woman without a bloody good reason." I backed the dagger away from his neck, but didn't put it down.

 "I didn't sneak up! I called out and you didn't hear me. Sierra, please. It's sort of hard to breathe, down here, and the water is sodding cold!"

 I considered, very briefly, and then jumped up off him, retreating to grab the towel and wrap it around myself as some sort of covering while he picked himself up off the floor. I still held the dagger at my side, gripping the handle as hard as I could, unable to decide between fury, fear, and embarrassment.

 "So answer the question. What are you doing here?"

 "I followed you, okay? I saw you sneaking through the halls and I thought I'd see where you were going. I’m supposed to be your ladyship’s bodyguard, am I not?"

 "So exactly how long were you watching me?" Fury was winning, suddenly, and I realised I had taken a step towards him, dagger now held out front, threateningly. He backed away, empty hands raised in a placating gesture.

 "I didn't, I swear. I had to stop and move some rock from that crack you squeezed through - I couldn't fit. I just got here."

 "And so you thought you'd come and visit with me when I was undressed? Were you planning to wash my back?" I took another step forward, the anger on my face belying the flippancy of my words. "I suppose you thought I would invite you to join me, that I would fall into your manly arms overcome with desire?"

 Anger flashed across Theron's face, suddenly, countering my own. "No, I think that you've got quite enough manly arms offering to catch you, Sierra."

 "What the hell does that mean?"

 "Well, how many men can you string along, really? Seriously. Straight from Duncan's tent to Aedan's? Did you think no one would notice? And now poor Teagan, hanging on your every word? And don't think I missed how you danced with Alistair last night. And me. What, are you just trying them all out, seeing who will fit the bill? Or maybe waiting for the best offer?"

 The ringing sound echoed through the small room as I slapped Theron's face, as hard as I could. _Damn, now my hand hurts._ My shoulders sagged, and suddenly all the rage drained out of me. I stepped back, dropping the dagger onto my pile of armour, head down. I turned away, speaking over my shoulder just loud enough to be heard.

 "I'm glad to see you're consistent in your beliefs, even if they are undeserved. So much for being like a brother, hey? I've been honest with you from the beginning, and maybe that's the problem. You've been too pampered, too spoiled, and too important for anyone to ever tell you the truth. You don't know how to handle it.

 "Get out, Theron. Go to your room and stay there, or go seduce another poor Redcliffe serving girl. I mean, hell, what's another royal bastard in Redcliffe Castle? Just stay away from me. Because I swear, if you ever touch me again without permission, I will use this dagger instead of just threatening with it."

 I waited until his footsteps were gone before sinking down to sit on the ground, towel loose around me, nakedness forgotten. I dropped my face into my shaking hands, bursting into tears. As the adrenaline wore off and my body accepted I wasn't being attacked, the fear disappeared, leaving behind a mixed jumble of emotions. Anger, still; hurt; embarrassment at my over-reaction; shame, somehow, despite logically knowing I had done nothing wrong; they all combined to leave me miserable and sobbing on the cold stone floor.

 The chill finally got to me, and I stood up, slowly dressing in my borrowed clothes. I suddenly felt old and frail, my back hunched, the bundle with my armour heavy, my chest aching from crying. I crept out of the basement, slowly, making it to the main floor and then deciding I needed a rest before continuing to my room. I turned into the small library, assuming it would be empty, but I found Morrigan there, in discussion with Jowan and Teagan. I would have left, but my arms suddenly felt weak and I dropped the pile of armour I was carrying unexpectedly. I looked down at it, in surprise, and when I looked back up, Morrigan's concerned face was swimming across my vision. I think she said something to me, but I couldn't even have guessed what it was. _Damn, in front of Teagan? This is going to complicate things_. The world started spinning, and I fell, my vision tunneling down to a single small point of light, then everything was gone.

 ********

 For once I was unsurprised to wake in hospital. It wouldn’t have taken me long to figure it out, in any case, because there were monitors buzzing and ringing like crazy around me. It was almost like there were sirens going off. I opened my eyes to see hospital staff rushing past me, heading for the source of the noise – the bed next to mine. I sat up, looking over to see the unfortunate patient having a seizure or something, and I looked away quickly, feeling like a creep for staring. I had noticed, briefly, that the monitors on the wall weren't in use, and instead she was surrounded by portable monitors with wheels. I decided to wait before ringing for a nurse, and settled with doing a personal inventory instead. I noticed that, for once, I didn’t have an IV, though a large bruise on my forearm explained that. The catheter had been left out, and I was relieved to find I didn’t wake up with a feeding tube or any other new orifices.

  _Ahh, hospital gown._ I decided changing was my first priority. I didn’t feel particularly grubby, so either my recent shower in Redcliffe transferred, or someone here had just given me a bath. I did notice my right hand was still sore. _Damn, why does slapping someone hurt so much?_ I realised if I thought too much about that I was going to start crying again, and I couldn’t even start to predict the fall-out of disappearing into thin air in front of Jowan and Teagan, so I forcibly turned off my brain and concentrated on standing up without showing off my ass through the back of my gown. I pulled the pathetic excuse for a privacy curtain around me, opened the nearby cupboard thing, found my clothes, and changed into my usual jeans, t-shirt, jacket, and boots.

 Feeling much less vulnerable, I opened the curtain again to find a young, very scared looking nurse eyeing me uncertainly. The fuss next door had apparently settled down and the rest of the staff must have left while I was changing.

 “Hi!” If she looked like she’d seen a ghost before, apparently being greeted by one was even worse. Hers eyes got huge, her mouth opened, and a surprised ‘urk’ sort of sound escaped from her throat.

 “Y- you’re awake? You’re supposed to be in a coma.”

 “Yeah, I sort of do that. Sorry to startle you. No one warned you that I pop in and out?”

 “Uh, no. I’m new here.”

 “Ah. So, um, what now?”

 “I…think I’ll go talk to the charge nurse.”

 “Sounds like an excellent plan. I’ll just wait here, shall I?” I sat in a nearby visitor chair, and the nurse gave me one more odd look – _trying to reassure yourself you’re not dreaming? Join the club_ – and then darted off to find herself backup.

 A few minutes later, an older, less panicked looking nurse and my now familiar doctor entered. The nurse hovered, checking my vitals for a few minutes, before the doctor finally cleared his throat and she reluctantly left. The doctor eyed my unusual hospital garb, sitting on the edge of the bed I had vacated.

 "What's with the clothes?" I sighed. How to explain?

 "The dreams. When I am having them, it seems...whatever I was wearing when I blackout is what I am wearing in the dream."

 "Why not just...change?"

 "They're not like that. I mean, I feel awake. I know what has happened, know that my body is here in hospital, know who I am. But it's not like I've heard lucid dreams described - I can't just decide to fly around or summon cake with only my imagination. If I want new clothes, I have to find new clothes and then take these off and put the new ones on. So I either have to buy them, or steal them, or whatever. But then I wake up here wearing either the same thing I blacked out wearing, or you know, a hospital gown. I told you what some of the dreams are like - I don't want to end up in my dream wearing just a hospital gown."

 He sat for a while, face pensive. The only thing he said is "I don't understand how this is possible."

 "Magic," was my only response, and though I wasn't joking, he laughed.

 "Wouldn't that be nice!" _You have no idea, doc._ He asked me if I expected any other injuries this time, and I shook my head. _None you could see on the outside._

 "So why no IV this time?"

 "Well, the one you had went interstitial, so we had to take it out." He gestured at my bruised forearm. "And there was some sort of weird power surge here a few days ago, and it disrupted some of the monitors and things, so it took a couple of days to figure it out before we realised we forgot to replace it. We decided to wait and see what happened if we didn't put a new one in, since you were fine for two days... And I can't understand it to save my life, but despite no fluid for, I think, four days total - you aren't dehydrated. And you should be. You haven't voided," when I looked confused, he clarified, "uh, gone pee (or poop for that matter) in six days. You look like you've lost maybe a little bit of weight since I first met you, but not like you should be if you frequently go days without eating! I just don't..."

 "Understand. Yeah, me neither, doc."

 "I'll come see you again tomorrow. I'd like to do a PET scan with you awake, compare it to the one we did when you were out. We can talk more then." _Joy, more scans._

 "Wait, one sec. When exactly did the weird power surge happen?"

 "Two days ago." At my 'give me more detail' gesture, he thought back. "Around noon, I guess. Why?"

 "Just curious. Thanks."

 He nodded, and left. I tried to think back, trying to guess times in my head. Two days ago was the day we entered the castle. And noon would probably line up normally with the fight in the courtyard. With the revenant. Was it possible that events here somehow carried over in some way? Perhaps the power surge was the source of the blast? Strange. _Maybe I have faulty wiring to thank for Leliana's life._

 With nothing else to do, I fell into a natural sleep. I had actual nightmares that night - normal ones, not waking up with darkspawn attacking, but instead dreams of being attacked, or raped. Some of them were clearly Theron, and he was usually telling me that he was allowed because he was the King. Sometimes the face wasn't visible, and I didn't know who it was. The last, the worst, was Alistair. It started out sort of romantic, and then he was naked with that beautiful body of his, and then he changed, and suddenly he was hurting my arm, shaking me...

 I opened my eyes and found the same young, frightened nurse from the day before. She had a surprisingly strong grip on my upper arm, and was shaking me, hissing in my ear.

 "Sierra! Wake up! You're dreaming. Wake up!"

 "I'm awake." I pulled my arm from her grasp, rubbing it ruefully and giving her a dirty look. "Ow!"

 "Sorry. You were screaming, and I was having trouble waking you up."

 "I...yeah, sorry. Nightmares."

 "Dare I ask what about?"

 "Uh...I don't remember." I lied. She shrugged, letting it drop.

 "It's time for your PET scan, anyway. Come with me."

 A porter wheeled me to the scan in a wheelchair. I was allowed to wear my clothes into the PET scanner, although I earned some strange looks from the techs running the machine. It was a sort of entertaining scan, actually - they played images on a screen as it did its thing, and I was supposed to just stare at the images and try not to think too much.

 Afterwards I ran into the doctor in the hallway, and he took over pushing my wheelchair back to my room. He told me it would be a day or two before he had results from the PET scan.

 "Listen, tomorrow you should meet with a lawyer. There's one the hospital uses - the social worker you met can help set it up."

 "A lawyer? Am I in trouble?"

 "No, no. It's an...estate planning thing. To figure what's going to happen to you, who's going to take care of paying your bills and managing your money and stuff. And figure out where you should, uh, live. Because staying in a hospital isn't really necessary, considering that you don't seem to need any medical treatment, but you can't really be at home if you keep blacking out like this, and I've exhausted the tests I can think of to do. You need somewhere you'll be safe, where they can manage you when you black out."

 "Oh. I, uh, suppose I should do that then." My face must have looked like I felt - worried, sad, offended, and betrayed all at once.

 "It's not my choice, Sierra. I've been fighting them on it for a while. But if you don't pick something, eventually they're going to make the decision for you despite what I think, and instead of waking up here, you'll wake in some nursing home or something. Anything would be better than that."

 I sighed. "Okay. But...doc?"

"Yes?"

 The dizziness suddenly threatened to overwhelm me, and I was glad for the wheelchair I had been embarrassed about earlier. "I don't think I can make it tomorrow."


	17. Vicious Circle

#  Chapter Seventeen: Vicious Circle

 I was getting a bit sick of the disorientation following one of my 'transitions', overall, but this was definitely the worst. I opened my eyes and let out an involuntary shriek. Not only was I completely clueless as to where I was, but as I watched in dismay, the headless corpse of what I assumed was once a person fell towards me, almost in slow motion, and landed right on me. Blood flowed freely from the stump that was once a neck, and I quickly closed my mouth, turning my head to avoid an even more unpleasant experience.

 I heard a voice hiss out "Leliana?"

 "Wasn't me," came the whispered reply.

 "Wynne?"

 "Don't look at me, child."

 "Alistair. It's me. Sierra. And…" I gulped a breath through my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut as well. "...I think I'm going to throw up."

 "Sierra? Sweet Andraste's ass, what are you doing here? And where exactly are you?"

 "Under the corpse you just dropped on me. At least, it looks like your work. I don't think Aedan or Sten would be so messy."

 "Are you seriously complaining about my killing hygiene?"

 "If you were lying here being dripped on by God knows what, you would too. I'll make you a deal. Get this body off me and I promise never to mention it again. After I throw up that is." I felt something shift, and with a soft grunt the weight lifted and the incredulous face of Alistair looked down at me. Before I could move, Prince practically leaped on me, bathing my face with his tongue. I strongly suspected all he was doing was smearing the gore around, but on the floor as I was, I had limited ability to remove the offending mutt from his self-appointed task. Aedan finally called Prince off, and once the dog-breath cleared, Leliana was also hovering over me.

 "Heya. I am so glad you're all here. A little help?" I smiled up at my friends.

 I held out my hand; ignoring it completely, Alistair plucked me off the ground the way I might pick up an infant and set me on my feet. I was suddenly so happy to see them that I grabbed Leliana and Alistair both into a three-way hug that left Leliana and I giggling and Alistair sputtering. I turned and bounced over to Aedan and hugged him as well. When I looked over to Sten, his eyes narrowed and his hands shifted on the pommel of Asala, and I decided against taking my life in my hands, though I flashed him a big smile.

 "What was that about?" I heard Alistair mutter to Leliana. She shrugged, and he muttered some more.

 "You look...really disgusting, Sierra dear." Aedan grinned, and I flicked some gore off at him vindictively.

 "Don't make me puke on your boots. Wait. Wynne is here? Ah. Circle Tower then."

 "Sierra, you still haven't explained how you got here."

 "I thought it was sort of obvious, Aedan. I popped out in Redcliffe, had a fun little day at home, and then popped back in here. Apparently your Maker has a sense of humour, at least - I can't imagine less helpful circumstances to pop in or out in. I disappeared right in front of Teagan and Jowan." Groans of disgust in stereo. I almost laughed. "I can't even guess how Morrigan is attempting to explain that. Fortunately she was there too, not Theron. He's not so quick thinking, that one..." I grimaced, and Aedan raised his eyebrows. I shook my head, trying to communicate 'later'. He nodded.

 "So, uh, back to Wynne." I walked over to the older mage, who'd been standing and watching the proceedings with confusion. I wiped my hand, uselessly, on my filthy jeans, before looking down at the sticky appendage. "I'd offer to shake your hand, but...I don't think you'd appreciate me for it. Hi, Wynne, I'm Sierra. Nice to meet you. "

 I have to give Wynne credit - she looked baffled, but managed a polite smile and a head bob, murmuring greetings. I turned back to the group.

 "I take it you haven't warned her about me?" They all shook their heads. "Right. I suppose later would be a better time to discuss this. Sorry, Wynne, I promise to explain my...unorthodox entrance, once we're done here. But I seriously want a bath. And some new clothes. Anyone at least see a washstand in the last few rooms you cleared?"

 We did manage to find a washstand, and I wiped my face and hands thoroughly, then briefly rinsed my hair. We decided to wait to find me new clothes.

 "So where are we, anyway?" I looked around, trying to recognise anything familiar in the rooms and hallways, but everything looked so different from the game that I gave up.

 "I think we've cleared the second floor completely now. Heading up to the third."

 "Oh goody. I just love demons." I sighed. "Well, since it seems I'm stuck coming with you, anyone got a spare dagger?"

 We did indeed find me a spare dagger on the body of one of the blood mages killed before I arrived. I decided against taking a sword from one of the slain templars, given that Wayne had told me I was still barely able to keep from impaling myself. Aedan and Alistair laughed as I briefly described my attempts at training while we searched bodies. Well, they searched bodies, and I again I contemplated throwing up. Killing darkspawn was one thing, but these had been people at some point. Leliana and Wynne tried to be sympathetic.

 Sten kept giving me very odd looks when he thought I wasn't looking. Finally I couldn't keep in the giggle from knowing exactly what he was thinking.

 "Sten."

 "Yes?"

 "I know what you're wondering. Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I am trying to learn to fight. I know you don't approve, and given my skill level I'm not sure I disagree with you about me personally, but since it seems I don't have any choice about ending up in danger, I thought I should at least try not to be a burden, and perhaps try to be able to defend myself." He looked thoughtful. "Even among the Qunari. Let's say a woman was alone, for whatever reason, and she was attacked. By bandits or the like. Even if she was a merchant or a farmer, wouldn't you expect her to fight to try to defend herself? Or would you expect her to stand still and let herself be cut down?"

 "No Qunari would die without a fight."

 "Right. So this is like that. I just...know in advance that I'm going to get into these situations. So it seemed prudent to try to prepare for them if possible."

 "I can accept that." _Thanks for the ringing endorsement, Sten._ "Thank you for explaining it to me."

 “I’m not saying I agree with your opinion on all women, Sten. Some women fight very well. Look at Leliana! So don’t go thinking I approve of your misogyny.” If they didn’t understand the word, they must have figured it out from the context – no one said anything.

 I rolled my eyes as Aedan stifled a laugh. _I know where you sleep, buddy._

 Finally (sort of) prepared, I followed the rest of the group up the stairs to the third floor. There were a couple of empty rooms, before we entered what looked like a large mess hall, with long rows of tables filling the centre of the room. There were several large statues, and I vaguely recognised them from the game. Corpses littered the floor - many of them templars, a few obviously mages.

 "Uh, guys?" I held out a hand to stop everyone from going too far across the room. "These corpses aren't going to stay dead for long."

 Wynne looked confused. "What are you talking about, child? Believe me, they are dead. I would feel it if they still had life force left."

 Aedan looked at me, brushing hair out of his handsome face. "More - what did you call them in Redcliffe? Zombies?" I nodded. "Sadly, Wynne, Sierra is always right about this sort of thing. And the lack of life force doesn't mean they can't be reanimated. Right. Circle formation around Sierra, everyone. Let's all stay really close together." I was suddenly standing uncomfortably close to five nervous, sweaty people, and one rather pungent dog. _Note to self: I need to invent antiperspirant in Thedas. And doggy biscuits._ I put a hand on Alistair's shoulder, and Leliana and Aedan, behind me, did the same to me. We inched forward in a tight circle, making it about halfway across the room before the clattering sounds of armoured beings getting up off the floor confirmed my prediction. Wynne gasped beside me. _Sometime I'd like to be wrong. Just to mix it up a little._

 The undead started charging towards us, fortunately lacking any coordination, just trying to swarm us as fast as they could come. Alistair stepped away from my hand, bashing a couple down with his enormous shield. Leliana's bow twanged, and Sten roared as he raised his enormous sword and swept through a group in front of him. I heard Wynne chanting, and an area of ground in front of her started rocking and quaking, throwing the undead to the ground. I only caught brief glimpses of Aedan as he danced through the swarm, daggers flashing. I kept my dagger in hand, my posture loose as Wayne had taught me, ready to dodge or grab or stab any opponent who came close, but none did. Before I was able to even understand what all had occurred, the fight was over.

 "Remind me never to piss you guys off," I muttered, and everyone laughed.

 We quickly took all the money, poultices, and Lyrium potions we could find from the bodies around us, and gathered ourselves to move to the next room. Wynne walked up beside me, shooting me an apologetic look.

 "I'm sorry I doubted you. I hope sometime you'll explain how you know these things?" I nodded, smiling.

 "I promise. As soon as abominations and demons stop trying to kill us."

 We moved slowly from room to room, clearing out possessed and enthralled templars and a few demons. We gained a good-sized stash of potions and poultices, which I offered to carry in a scavenged bag. If anyone had to be encumbered, it should be me, and I'd have time to fish through and hand people what they needed without prolonging the fights.

 We cleared the rest of the third floor without much trouble. Approaching the door leading to the stairs up, I asked Aedan for my notes and quickly consulted what I'd copied there from the wiki.

 "Okay, so, a desire demon with a charmed templar - she's tough to kill, and she'll animate some corpses. No point chatting with her, unless letting a demon escape works for you." I looked around and everyone shook their heads. "And a pretty powerful blood mage with a bunch more templars. Then we're going to run into a sloth demon. We're all going to end up asleep, in the Fade, facing a nightmare. Once you no longer believe in your nightmare, you should be able to escape. We fight the sloth demon in the Fade, and then we can finally wake up." I gave Aedan back the book - in case I disappeared, he needed it, not me.

 On the fourth floor, the fights went just as I'd predicted. The desire demon didn't even get a chance to talk before Alistair drained its mana and the rest just cut it down. I did end up being attacked by a templar, but something about being charmed must have slowed it (or perhaps he was just crappy at his job in the first place), because I dropped my pack, dodged his clumsy swing, grabbed his wrist and threw him just as I had thrown Theron, and slit his throat before anyone had to come to my rescue. The four who had seen me try to train with a sword laughed and pounded me on the back, congratulating me. Aedan looked fiercely proud, and I gave my brother a wan smile, before finally following through on the vomit that had been threatening since I'd arrived.

 Wynne surreptitiously healed my shoulder where Alistair had thumped me a little too enthusiastically. We shared a fond eye roll in his direction as I thanked her quietly.

 Finally we came to the door I'd been dreading - the sloth demon lay behind. Reminding everyone to try to remember they were in the Fade, we stepped into the room, Aedan exchanged a few words with the demon, and we all fell asleep.

 ********

 I woke in hospital. Cursing my timing, I wondered when I would be able to get back to my friends. I'd forgotten to remind them to grab the Litany of Adralla. Hopefully Aedan got to talk to Niall in the Fade. And I was sort of hoping to get to meet Irving! _Oh, Maker, if it's you doing this, don't make me pop back in at Redcliffe, please! I don't want to talk to Theron right now._

 I took my usual personal inventory. No tubes. Hospital gown. I went to sit up, but realised my hand was stuck somehow in the bed. Looking down, I realised it wasn't stuck, exactly - it was restrained. I was tied to the damn bed! Investigating further, I realised that both hands and both feet were on short tethers, leather cuffs around wrists and ankles. I was in a private room, for the first time. I must have been thrashing or seizing or something while I was out. I spent a minute searching for the nurse call bell, to no avail.

 Left with no other option, I opened my mouth and shouted. At first no one came, so after waiting a couple of minutes I shouted again, and again. I finally heard someone crack the door, and I strained to lift my head and see who'd come in.

 All I could see at first was the back of someone in a long doctor's coat. He was bent over, carrying a food tray, but as he straightened, I could see that it wasn't my usual doctor. He had sandy hair, and as he turned I gave a little strangled scream. It was Alistair. Or at least his identical twin. Same strong jaw, same hairdo, same mischievous smile.

 "Good morning, Sierra." He didn't have a British accent, it occurred to me. And then I wondered why he should. Weird thought.

 "Alistair?"

 "Oh dear, a bad day then." Alistair sighed. "I was so hoping to be able to let you out of those restraints today too." He set down the tray, coming to stand by the bed as I stared at him in shock. "It seems we will have to start at the beginning again, then.

 "My name is Dr. Markus. You are in the hospital, on the psychiatry ward. You've been here for three months."

 "This isn't funny, Alistair. What the hell is going on?"

 "This really is a setback! I am not Alistair, Sierra. Please, try to remember. Your brother, Aedan, and your husband Theron brought you in because you were getting so confused. You kept thinking you were somewhere else, that each of your family and friends were someone else. You couldn't tell what was real anymore."

 "Theron...?" The Alistair clone gave a hopeful smile.

 "You remember him? Wonderful. Here. I think maybe we need to have another group meeting. Why don't you just relax, and I'll call everyone to come visit. Maybe that will help you remember even more." Before I could object, Alistair left, and I felt...hazy. _I must have been medicated._ I fell asleep.

 When I woke again, I was still in my hospital gown, still tied to the bed. Someone was shaking me, and I opened my eyes to see Aedan, a concerned look on his face. He kissed my cheek and I relaxed slightly. I looked around, and realised that Leliana was there, holding Aedan's free hand, as were Theron and the Alistair clone-doctor.

 Leliana let out a soft cry and pushed Aedan out of the way to hug me. "Sierra! How are you feeling, sweetheart?" She sounded weird, somehow, though I couldn't place it. Her accent was vaguely Southern Belle, and her voice was a bit hoarse, kind of gravelly. She backed away as I just looked at her in shock, and Theron approached the side of the bed instead.

 "Hi, honey. How are you?" He put his hand on my abdomen, and it clenched in fear. I had no idea what I was afraid of, but that casual touch made me want to vomit in disgust. His eyes had that possessive look in them, as he leaned in obviously intending to kiss me, but seeing the look of abject terror on my face, settled with gently kissing my forehead instead. I'd hated that look since... _when_? I couldn't remember the first time I noticed that expression. As he walked away, heading for the chair at the foot of the bed, his hand trailed down from my stomach, to my hip, and down my thigh. My skin just crawled, and I had to bite my lip to stop from screaming.

 I looked over at Ali...Dr. Markus, unsure why but truly feeling like only he might be able to give me the reassurance I needed, might be able to explain. His face was carefully neutral, none of the laughing, silly expressions that I remembered from... _wait, who was Alistair again?_ I couldn't keep any train of thought for more than a few seconds, and I wondered again what meds I'd been given.

 The group launched into a big intervention session. Reminding me of details I'd obviously forgotten from our lives, telling me how much they loved me, missed me. I felt guilty for not remembering - _yes, of course, Aedan and Leliana have a son. How could I have forgotten little Oren?_ And Theron and I had been trying to conceive. I smiled, thinking about a sweet little child of our own, but looked up to see that possessive glint in his eye again, and the enjoyment faded. Why was I so afraid of my own husband? I concentrated on that emotion for a minute - it was the only one that felt real. Dr. Markus seemed to realise my mind had wandered, and started talking about how devoted Theron was to me, how he visited every day, even when I'd been too sedated to wake up, even when I screamed at him to go away. I latched on to that - this had not been my only time to feel disturbed by his presence? And if he loved me so much, why would he treat me like a whore? That thought shocked me - when had my sweet husband ever treated me like a whore? But I thought I could remember...it was gone. _Damn drugs! Messing with my head._

  _Focus_. I needed focus. I tuned out the doctor, my brother, my husband. Starting with the fear, I tried to slowly rewind my way back - that look on his face, feeling like a whore...I remembered a campfire. Sitting near a campfire in dawn's early light, him looking at me like I was prey...

 "Theron, do you remember that camping trip? Where did we go, again? I can't remember."

 "Camping, honey? We've never been camping. Are you thinking of someone else?" He was a bad liar, normally. I think that might have been the thing that clinched it. He was lying to me, I could see his handsome face by firelight in my mind, disappointment as I turned him down...He shouldn't be able to look me in the face and tell me we've never been camping. Unless he wasn't really Theron...

  _The fucking Fade! I can't believe I forgot. I'm in the fucking Fade!_

 I wished I had my hands free so I could face-palm. Now that I could see through the illusion, the rest of my memories came flooding back. Thedas. Redcliffe. Theron...I guess I couldn't call it an attack, though it's how I felt about it. The Circle tower. Aedan and Alistair and Leliana and Wynne, trapped somewhere else in the Fade! I had to get to them.

 Ignoring my supposed family and supposed doctor, I struggled partially upright, wrenching my arms in the leather cuffs. _If I know it's illusion, can't I just will them off? Apparently not._ I wondered briefly which of them was the demon. Alistair made the most sense, he'd been around the most, but it could have been any of them. _It's a good thing demons don't really understand human emotions._ If they'd picked anyone other than Theron to play the role of my husband, I might not have seen through it. But muscle memory apparently remained, even in the Fade, and my muscles remembered wanting to slap the crap out of Theron.

 They were talking at me, louder and louder as I ignored them. I kept struggling with my bindings, closing my eyes and trying to will myself to freedom. It wasn't working. Tired from the effort, wrists and ankles sore from pulling, I flopped back onto the bed, trying to think of another option. At some point I even started humming to myself to block out their voices. If I'd been able to reach I would have stuck my fingers in my ears. I finally had enough, and I let out a horrendous scream. They all stopped cold, staring at me in shock.

 "Fuck off, all of you. I know what this is. I'm in the Fade. So you might as well change to demon form, stop trying to convince me. I know you're not real. I'm never going to let you in, never going to listen. So get rid of the doctor's coat and concerned facial expressions and treat me like the actual prisoner I am, or go away so I don't have to listen to you, until the real Aedan gets here."

 "What made you think it would be Aedan that got here first to rescue you?" I looked up, surprised, at the voice that rang out in the room. British accent. Perfect chiselled face. Teasing grin. Amour covered in dripping... _God knows what_. "Anyone got any cheese? I'm hungry." I'd never been so happy to see anyone in my life.

 The fake Dr. Alistair and the rest of my 'family', swivelled to face this new threat. Real Alistair tossed a dagger from his belt onto the bed, and I cut myself free of my bonds faster than those around me could blink. Jumping up, unnoticed by the demons, I maneuvered myself into position, grabbed Theron from behind, and drew the dagger across his throat in one, smooth, vicious arc. A hideous noise screeched from his exposed windpipe, and then his body slumped to the ground, changing as it fell to a large, purple, vaguely humanoid corpse. _Pride demon. Huh._ I wondered how sloth got a pride demon as a pet.

 Alistair grinned at me, raising his own sword in salute before attacking his own clone. We both assumed it would just be an animate creature, but as Alistair managed to get a surprise hit in and decapitate it, the body changed just like demon-Theron's had, only becoming a ghastly, naked, purple-ish woman. Desire demon. _Two demons? What the hell?_

 Alistair and I both turned on the false Leliana and Aedan now. Leliana just faded out of existence, and I assumed she must have been a construct of one of the demons we had killed. Fake Aedan, obviously a demon, still looked quite corporeal, although from the expression on his face he wished he wasn't.

 "Wait! Just listen to me. None of this was my idea! I got dragged into this when it," demon-Aedan pointed at the headless desire demon, "wasn't able to contain her. She kept almost getting away. It pulled in that, and then me. I have no desire to be here. Just let me go, back into the Fade, and I'll leave you all alone. I'm no threat to you!"

 Alistair and I exchanged a look. While demon-Aedan hadn't actually done anything to me that I could remember, there was clearly a lot about the Fade that I didn't remember, if three demons had been required to subdue me. And regardless, it was a demon. _I don't like demons._ I shook my head, ever so slightly, and Alistair, understanding, sliced once with his sword and cleanly killed the demon wearing Aedan's appearance. I didn't recognise the demon shape this time - green, slightly glowing - but being surrounded by the three corpses was evidence enough of what it was, if not which variety.

 I turned to Alistair, and he just held out his arms. I fell into them, not crying but desperately needing real human contact. _I hate the fucking Fade._ After a minute, I pulled back. Now that the demons were dead I tried again and was able to summon myself a set of light armour, like I trained with in Redcliffe, as well as another wickedly sharp dagger. I offered Alistair his back, pommel first, and he took it with a smile.

 "Thanks, Alistair."

 "Any time, Sierra. Listen, you don't have to, but...sometime, will you explain all this? I didn't really understand most of what I saw."

 I reluctantly agreed. He had saved me; I owed him that at least. "How was yours? Goldanna?"

 He nodded, almost laughing. "No matter how they tried I knew I didn't really have a sister. I just couldn't buy into it. Once I remembered, the demon showed itself and I killed it. From the looks of this, you'd have done the same if there weren't three demons keeping you under."

 I smiled, glad that I'd made escaping the Fade even a little easier for him. I squelched the urge to hug him again. _Don't get used to it, Sierra. He's not for you. Even in the Fade._

 "So...how do we get out of here?"

 "I don't know. When I defeated the demon, my...uh...nightmare just sort of...dissolved. Maybe this will just take a bit longer since there were three demons here?"

 A new voice joined the conversation. "Three demons? That's weird. Everyone else just had one."

 Alistair and I turned to see Aedan, followed by Sten, and Wynne and Leliana, who both looked somewhat subdued and red-faced. Aedan gave me his patented cross-eyed, tongue stuck out facial expression, and I giggled and launched myself into a hug. Prince jumped around and licked me happily, and I laughed, giddy.

 "Apparently I gave mine a hard time and he called some friends."

 "I'm not in the least surprised, my dear." Aedan gave me a fond look and I giggled. "And Alistair, you escaped on your own? Well done."

 Alistair blushed. _Poor guy. Blushes more than me._

 Aedan had us all grasp hands, and then close our eyes. I suppressed a minor fan-girl freak-out when I realised I was holding hands with Alistair. I heard him talking, too quietly to hear, and barely heard Wynne mutter a response. I felt wind on my face for a moment before it stopped. I opened my eyes and found myself, still holding hands, on an island of sorts. It was grassy but dotted with huge rocks, and maybe fifty feet across. Past the edge of the island was just...nothing. _Creepy_. I giggled as Alistair said it at the same time that I thought it. Standing in the middle of a flat clearing was the sloth demon.

 Aedan chatted with it for a moment, while it promised us whatever we desired. In my head I could hear insidious whispers, promising me things it hurt to even want. Love, family. _Alistair_. I wanted to believe, so badly...

 "No!" I shouted, and rushed across the island towards the demon. I broke the spell that had settled on all of us, the seductive heady rush of promises. I heard Aedan swear at me, but didn't stop as I ran full speed at the source of the offending whispers. As I charged, Aedan, and then Alistair and the rest of the group stirred, readied their weapons and followed.

 I got lucky - the demon didn't expect us to break free so easily, not without some more conversation at least, and I managed to get a slash in as I dove past, sticky black blood squirting out to coat my hand before it transformed into an ogre. I skidded to a stop just as I heard the gong I knew indicated Alistair had bashed the thing with his shield. Turning, I looked for an opening, but given the way I knew ogres could kick, I chose discretion and waited. Sure enough, between Leliana's arrows, Wynne's spells, and Alistair's, Sten's, and Aedan's slashes, the ogre form faded away leaving a rage demon in its wake.

 Aedan was suddenly wreathed in flame himself, screaming at everyone to back away, and his burning-man form deflected the worst of the damage. Wynne cast some sort of ice spell, and suddenly the thing burst into a dazzling array of sticky, translucent pink crystals as Sten's Asala shattered it. Abomination form was next, and I finally got my chance to sprint back into the fray. I knew, even as I approached, that I should have stayed back, but I was really, really angry. _You don't get to mess with my head and get away with it._ I stabbed my dagger deep into the abomination's back, distracting it enough that Aedan shredded its neck with his own daggers.

 The abomination gave way to a shade. Alistair actually threw himself between the shade and I, and while he held its attention, Aedan was able to slip behind and disable the thing before I got reoriented. As the shade in turn transformed into an arcane horror, I felt Alistair's hand clamp on my upper arm just before the shockwave he'd used on me the day we first met rumbled across the creature, slamming it to the ground. The only reason I was still standing was Alistair holding me up, but I knew I'd have a hand-print shaped bruise on my arm. Somehow, just through fighting together all this time, Aedan and Sten had realised what he was about to do, and had gotten out of the way.

 The demon finally stayed down, and all six of us stopped to pant for a bit. Niall popped into existence, reminding us about the Litany of Adralla, before saying reluctant good-byes to Aedan and Wynne. The next thing I knew, I was awake, picking my very dirty self up off the ground. Niall was indeed dead, and Wynne closed his eyes and crossed his arms on his chest before picking the Litany up and joining us.


	18. Templar Twister

#  Chapter Eighteen: Templar Twister

 "Sierra, I can see that you're a very useful person to have around, with your impressive knowledge of what is about to happen – however it is that you come by it." Wynne shot me a look that was part suspicious disbelief and part frustration. "However, I suspect that you'd be less than helpful if you ended up dead before we finished this. As the person who's going to have to save you if you get yourself injured, can I respectfully request that you stay out of the fighting when possible?"

 I appreciated that she didn't use my less than epic fighting skills as the excuse, though the condescension was still galling. On impulse I stuck my tongue out at her in lieu of a response, and she actually choked as a laugh tried to escape while she still wore that sour expression. Feeling terribly immature, and quite self-satisfied at the same time, I turned away and walked to the next door I knew we had to open if we wanted to move on.

 Eventually everyone else joined me, and Alistair pushed open the door. We fought our way through the rest of the fourth floor, none of us enjoying the dragonlings that seemed to have taken over. Sten largely took to stomping on them, which was both gross and funny, and wouldn’t have worked for anyone shorter than the giant. I stayed back as requested, though we got jumped from behind somehow a couple of times so it didn't help as much as Wynne had hoped.

 "Andraste’s flaming sword, who keeps dragonlings in a sodding place of residence?" I couldn't agree with Alistair's sentiment more, even if the curses still made me giggle.

 We finally found Cullen, and it was even worse than the game had lead me to believe. The poor kid's mind was broken, and I truly wondered if anyone would ever be able to put him back together. Wynne and Aedan both tried to reassure him as much as possible, but none of us were willing to slaughter all the mages out of hand - it would have ruined any chance at keeping Arl Eamon's family intact, in addition to just being very, very wrong - and we had to leave him, sobbing and praying.

 Aedan had convinced Wynne to take and use the Litany, so after a brief reminder, and a warning to everyone to protect the mages who'd not yet been forcibly turned, especially Irving, we finally headed up the stairs into the Harrowing chamber.

 As in the game, Uldred was surrounded by Abomination lackeys. A couple dozen bound, exhausted, injured mages were on the floor around the room, and Uldred's abominations were in the process of performing some sort of ritual which turned a poor young mage, screaming defiance, into yet another abomination.

 Aedan again tried to talk Uldred down; I admired his diligence, but _come on, the guy's an abomination!_ Finally realising that a fight was inevitable, Aedan slipped around to his side as Alistair bashed him in the face with his shield. It left Uldred with a bloody nose, and a rather nasal pitch to his voice. _Note to self: hug Alistair later._ Then he turned into the form of a pride demon.

 As requested, I stayed back. Not that it was difficult to do so – I was terrified, and felt sick. The abominations were hideous, misshapen things that were much worse than I’d imagined in game. The smell of the corruption in the rest of the tower had inured me somewhat, but it was stronger in the Harrowing Chamber. Instead of getting involved, I watched for signs that Uldred was about to turn another mage and reminded Wynne to use the Litany. _It’s a good thing Wynne has the book – I’d probably freeze up and forget how to read._ Sten, Prince, and Leliana took on the three other abominations.

 The strategy seemed to be working until somehow the demon that had been Uldred managed to kick Aedan back and push Alistair over, then drain Wynne's mana - the elderly woman slumped, and I worried she'd actually fall over. Quickly, before anyone could recover, he caught both Alistair and Aedan with spells. Aedan actually froze into a man-shaped popsicle, and Alistair appeared to be paralysed. Uldred started chanting again, and I was suddenly terrified that he'd manage to shatter Aedan like we'd done to some of the demons earlier.

 I took a few steps forward, planning to charge him with my dagger, but my fear was almost overwhelming. I heard Wynne reading from the Litany again, and Sten roaring at an abomination as he cut it down. I screamed in fear, and suddenly the hair on my arms rose like it had when I'd seen darkspawn Emissaries in past. A blast sounded, I could feel a rumble across the ground, and several of the bound mages appeared to faint. At the same time, both Uldred and the one remaining lackey started leaking blood out of every orifice. Uldred screamed, the word 'no' echoing across the harrowing chamber, as both he and the other abomination slowly crumpled to the ground.

 Suddenly there was near silence. I could hear Alistair panting, still paralysed, as well as Wynne and Sten. Leliana lowered her bow, and there was the tinkling sound of falling glass as the ice broke away from Aedan and shattered on the floor. We all looked around at each other, trying to determine what had happened.

 A few of the bound mages groaned, stirring, and Wynne rushed over to one, a grey-haired man I recognised as Irving. The rest of us spent a few minutes untying mages, rubbing bound hands to get the circulation going, offering sips of water and what reassurances we could. They all claimed to have been drained of mana, like Wynne, though they weren't quite sure how, but it slowly started recovering as they were able to rest and relax.

 Finally Wynne approached with Irving in tow, introducing him to our little group. When she got to me, he stepped forward and shook my hand before she could finish.

 "Thank you, templar, for your assistance. I don't know that many could have managed both Uldred and the other abomination like that. I shall tell Greagoir that he has trained his people well."

 As a group, we all stared at him in open-mouthed shock. I was the first to react, stepping to the side so Irving and I both faced Alistair.

 "He's the templar, First Enchanter, not me. You must have been confused."

 Alistair objected. "Almost templar. But I didn't actually use any templar abilities in that fight."

 "No, young lady, I was not confused. I may be old, but I am not yet senile. I've been exposed to templar abilities before, though not as powerful as your own. There's no mistaking the source when someone smites you, once you’ve become used to it. I don't know which specific ability you used, but you drained the mana from every mage in here, including Uldred and the abomination."

 "But I'm not a templar." I stopped myself from babbling the rest of my train of thought...I've never trained as one, or taken Lyrium, or spent time in the Chantry. I can't even fight. And I've definitely never met Greagoir! I was suddenly very worried. If Irving told the templars that I used one of their abilities, I doubted they'd be lenient. They would want to know where I learned it, how I got my hands on Lyrium...they'd imprison me, or worse. And then when I disappeared into thin air, they'd label me an apostate, assuming Irving was wrong. I pulled Aedan and Alistair aside and explained my fears.

 "He must be wrong. I'm not a templar - how could I be? I'm not even from Thedas." I suddenly had a thought. "The power surge! Maybe that's what happened." Seeing the confused looks on their faces, I tried to explain. "At home, my body is being kept in a...uh...a building that healers use to take care of sick people. And like I've said, we don't have magic so we rely on machines. In the building are machines that can monitor someone's illness. A little while back, when we fought that revenant, there was a...sort of like a bolt of lightning hit. It broke a bunch of the machines. I wondered if I might have somehow conducted the power through whatever connection I have to Thedas and that's what killed the revenant. Maybe it happened again? Could that be what Irving felt?"

 No one could confirm or deny that theory, and so, shrugging, we turned back to the problem of a group of mages thinking I was a templar. We pulled Wynne into the discussion, glossing over who I really was but promising to explain later; she immediately saw the problem, with an added twist:

 "Even if we can convince all of these mages not to mention you, Greagoir knows everyone in the tower and that you weren't with the group when they entered. In addition to explaining templar abilities, we need to explain your existence." My face must have gone pale, because Aedan put a protective arm around my waist. "I don't suppose you could just choose to, ah, pop out as you call it? If we could manage that privately before we get downstairs, they might just forget about you."

 I shook my head. "I can't control it. Though I've been wondering if it triggers shortly after being really upset about something." Aedan raised his eyebrows, but I shook my head and refused to meet his gaze. "So if one of you knows how to scare me half to death or find a convincing way to hurt my feelings really badly, then we wait around for a day or so..."

 "What about a disguise? Put you in armour with a helmet, hope no one asks questions? When we get to the main entryway, you leave right away before everything gets explained? We can all play dumb, claim we thought you were a templar from here, and when no one can find you... The mages don't know anything, and I'm sure we can convince Irving to delay telling Greagoir about you."

 "Interesting idea, Wynne.” Aedan looked thoughtful. “Because the only alternative I can come up with is to tell the truth. Tell Irving, see what he thinks. Tell Greagoir. And then, if necessary, be prepared to fight our way out if they try to capture you."

 "No, Aedan!” The thought of them fighting the templars was freaking me out. “Worst case scenario, let them take me. We all know eventually I'll disappear, and I can find you when that happens. It seems I can find you even when we don't want me to, so...I guess I can live with them thinking I'm an apostate."

 "Let's try the disguise first,” Wynne decided. “Greagoir is an honourable man, but some of his templars are...overzealous. I don't want you left in their hands if it can be avoided. Let me go talk to Irving. I'll promise to explain everything later. I think he'll go along. You go find some armour."

 “Wait. Wynne? One more question. What was the name of the mage who helped Jowan destroy his phylactery? Do you know?”

 She looked at me strangely. “Solona.”

 “Where is she now? What did they do with her after Jowan escaped?”

 “She’s still here, child. Under ‘supervision’. Why?”

 “Do you….think Irving would let her be one of the mages who comes with us to Redcliffe?”

 “Why would mages be coming with us to Redcliffe?”

 “Humour me. Assuming that some are, can we arrange for her to be one of them?”

 She gave me another piercing look. “I will ask.”

 Aedan and Sten remained to help take care of the mages and back up Wynne, if required. Prince, as usual, happily followed Aedan around. Alistair, Leliana and I went scouring the tower for armour. I wasn't sad to see my disgusting clothes go, especially once we found the locker of a female templar who was roughly my size. There was a clean set of leather armour, similar to what I'd been practicing with in Redcliffe, with a full helm. I changed, with Leliana's help, and Alistair declared me to be 'very templar-y'. We strapped a sword and shield to my back, to complete the picture, although I could barely lift them so I hoped no one asked for a demonstration of my abilities.

 We met back up with our group, and we all had to assist the exhausted and terrified mages down the stairs to the main level. Once we reached the large doors Greagoir had barricaded, Irving called out and convinced him to let us through. He was a good actor, that old man; he waited, pretending to be breathless and needing a moment to gather himself, while I divested myself of the mage I'd been supporting and slipped out the front entrance with no one the wiser.

 Outside there was only one templar - the one who had rowed the boat over, I guessed - and I avoided him and snuck off to the side, leaning against the side of the tower entrance, hidden by a stone outcropping. I waited for what felt like hours, though was probably only one hour. No one came or left during that time, to my relief; the boat templar hadn't been paying a lot of attention, but surely if he thought he'd realise there was nowhere for me to go. Fortunately, the next time the massive door opened, my group of companions emerged, with Wynne accompanying them as planned. I fell in beside them as they headed to the boat, and sat beside the other templar, taking a turn at rowing without complaint, and without removing my stuffy helmet.

 When we docked, I got out with the group, crossed my arms across my chest and slightly bowed to the templar, who returned the gesture, and then walked away with my companions. We waited until we were out of sight of the dock before all of us let out a big sigh of relief. Leliana spontaneously hugged me, and I giggled, half-hysterical. _Safe_.

 It was actually early morning - the night had come and gone while we battled inside, and though we were all exhausted we pushed onwards to try to make good time back to Redcliffe. Apparently the mages that were going to help with Connor were taking their own boat directly to the castle, and would likely beat us there; we had been given the option of accompanying them, but Aedan had declined, listing our own boat, docked a short ways away, as the reason. He was determined to make it there by nightfall; we would all have a day to recover onboard while we sailed.

 I knew by her expression that Wynne was probably burning with curiosity, but I was quite honestly too tired to talk and walk at the same time. I handed off the shield and heavy sword at the first opportunity, and Alistair chose to carry them with us in case I needed a disguise again in the future. I hoped that wearing armour would just generally make me blend in with the others, and perhaps I wouldn't be noticed at all. By late afternoon Wynne, Leliana, and I were all lagging; Sten had obviously been through worse and seemed unfazed, while Alistair and Aedan had that damned Grey Warden metabolism, so as long as they ate they could keep going much longer than the average person. Prince seemed content as long as there were new smells to be sniffed, and didn’t seem affected at all by the fatigue.

 I was tired enough that I couldn't keep my mind out of the gutter, and it kept returning to the question of whether their stamina was also better when it came to - _so inappropriate, Sierra!_

 We finally reached the dock where our boat waited as night arrived in full. There were apparently two cabins for us, each with two beds. I declared that I would share, since I was obviously an unplanned extra, and ended up tucked into a narrow but adequate bed with Leliana. Sten elected to sleep on the floor so the guys didn't have to share. I started to giggle when he announced this - _apparently guys are weird around each other in every world when touching or sleeping is involved._ With how tired I was, the giggles became guffaws, and Leliana practically had to drag me to bed with tears running down my face. I'm sure Wynne expected we would talk when we got to the cabin, but I undressed and was asleep the second my head hit the pillow.

 In the morning, I was still on the boat and not in hospital, for which I was thankful. Apparently sometime during the night in our narrow bed, Leliana and I had cuddled. She was spooned behind me, with one arm loosely around my waist, and I had one foot resting on her leg. I stayed put for a while, not wanting to disturb her, and my mind wandered to other people that I would have liked spooning with in a narrow bed... but my bladder was becoming insistent and I finally had to wake her up.

 She was mortified, apologising even as I tried to reassure her. Why she still thought I was a homophobe I don't know, but I finally succeeded in convincing her it was fine. What did make me laugh was that as we were discussing it, we were still in bed, cuddling. We finally untangled ourselves, which left me grinning and her scarlet-faced with embarrassment. _Yay it's not me blushing for once!_ We took turns using the chamber pot, which only enhanced the colour in her cheeks. _The bisexual bard is modest? I never would have guessed._ Emerging from the little cabin, we found the others around a table virtually right outside, and I burst out laughing again as Leliana drew a variety of strange looks when she scurried away.

 The only unoccupied seat at the table was between Aedan and Alistair, and directly across from Wynne. I hopped the bench, gratefully accepting some bread and cheese from Alistair, and then turned my attention on Wynne.

 She jumped right in, headfirst, with the big question.

 "So. Where are you from?"

 I went through my usual explanation. My world, reliant on technology not magic. The 'performance' where I could watch Thedas through a window. The dizzy spells, and somehow waking in the Korcari Wilds. Coming and going ever since, usually at inconvenient times. I left out that somehow I changed the course of history, my mere presence somehow saving the King and the Commander of the Grey. I forestalled Aedan when I could see that he was about to ask what had happened in Redcliffe before I disappeared from there - this was for Wynne's benefit, for starters, and not everyone needed to know about Theron's mistake either.

 I could see she was skeptical, and because I had popped into existence here instead of Redcliffe, I didn't have my useful assortment of obviously non-Thedas items. And I changed out of my clothes back at the tower, leaving me with only my boots and a very grimy jacket. I passed these over, and she examined them briefly. Aedan showed her the safety pins, Swiss army knife, map, and flashlight that I had sent with him when they left Redcliffe, but as they came from him I wasn't certain she would believe. He also showed her the notebooks I had written outlining as much detail as I could remember or could find on the wiki about the different areas and the fights. He assured her that I had written the one about the Circle Tower weeks before they arrived, but again I couldn't be sure she would believe that.

 Finally, she agreed to discuss things with me in private, and I followed her back into the cabin she had shared with Leliana and me.

 "I will start, Wynne, if that's okay. Morrigan tells me that a skilled charlatan can figure out the answers by which questions are asked, so I'll just volunteer what I know.

 "I know you are a Senior Enchanter, and have never wanted to spend your time in the Circle Tower. You are one of the few mages who does not think that the Circle should run itself, who doesn't hate the templars and the Chantry. You were at Ostagar and saw Loghain's betrayal. I know that you were the one who led the counter-argument to Uldred's in the meeting that began the disaster at the tower.

 "I also know that you died, before Aedan and the others reached you. Saving Petra, I think? A benevolent Fade spirit, who you had felt watching you when you went into the Fade for years, brought you back, and became somehow stuck inside you. And it is weakening, slowly, though you have more time left than you think.

 "I know you had a son a number of years ago, who is a mage in the Circle in Val Royeaux. His name is Rhys, and he's a very, very good man. You should be very proud of him, Wynne. I've no idea who his father is, though I've always wondered if it was Greagoir." Her face paled, slightly, and I realised I was right, and for some reason, that frightened her. "Pure guesswork on my part, and I would never tell anyone else my baseless speculations." She nodded, understanding my implication, face returning to normal colour.

 "Your greatest regret is failing in the training of an elf named Aneirin. You were young and impatient, and you feel you were a poor mentor. He escaped from the Tower, and you fear the templars killed him. However, they never found him; he's alive and well, living in the Brecilian forest, not with the Dalish but at least in contact with them. He is happy, Wynne, and he bears you no ill will.

 "So. That's what I know about you, and trust me, I won't tell anyone else your secrets. They all have their own, and I won't betray them or you.

 "Do you have any questions for me?"

 Wynne appeared thoughtful, and she opened her mouth, taking a breath, then closed it again without speaking multiple times. I waited, patiently, while she worked through it.

 "You sound like you know what will happen to me."

 I nodded. "I can't guarantee that it hasn't changed - me being here has changed a number of things, so the future I knew already isn't the same, but I know what happened to you according to the performance."

 "And can you tell me?"

 "I can, though you need to be sure. I don't know the ultimate outcome for any of the others, but for you I do. However, I don't want it to taint the years you have left, knowing when and where you will die."

 "You say years; I suppose that's probably enough for now. I wasn't convinced I would see the end of the Blight."

 "You are way stronger than that, Wynne. The Blight will be over, and you will live several years after that. If you want to know more, think about it and ask me again."

 "I'll think about it."

 "So the big question is, do you believe me?"

 "Sierra, you appeared from thin air right in front of me. I'd have to be mad to try to deny it. I never questioned that you were from somewhere else, and you proved the accuracy of your foreknowledge in the Tower. I just wanted to know how." Wynne gave me a smile, and I breathed a big sigh of relief. Wynne was the one I had most worried about convincing.

 "So…since you know my future, do you have any advice for me? Aedan told me you gave him recommendations. I'd be curious to know what you might have to say for me."

 "Uh..." The question floored me. I had to think for a minute, and then realised there were some things that always bugged me in the game. "Two things. One is don't call on the spirit on purpose to lend you strength unless it's a truly hopeless situation. It weakens it, shortens your life, and makes you faint. It's not pretty."

 "I'll try to keep that in mind, though I don't really know what you mean by calling on the spirit. And the second thing?"

 "Just try...not to be judgemental. At some point Aedan or Alistair may end up in a relationship. And you will disapprove, if the performance is correct, worrying that they won't be able to do their duty as Grey Wardens because they are in love. I just want you to wait before expressing that opinion. Because you will change your mind, but telling them how you feel will wound them both more than you know. Both of them are much better men than anyone will give them credit for, and will always do what is right no matter the cost to themselves. So try to...just be happy for them, when the time comes?"

 "I will think about it. And, dare I ask: which of them will be in the relationship with you?"

 "Me? Neither. That's just not in the cards, for me. They both deserve better."

 Wynne raised her eyebrows, examining my face.

 "I...see." She didn't; I could tell. It didn't matter if she understood or not, as long as I did. “What about Solona?”

 “Well…I was just worried about her, knowing what I know about how Greagoir felt after she aided Jowan. And I thought we could maybe get a chance to see if I could help her.”

 “You’re going to get Aedan to conscript her, aren’t you?”

 “Only if she wants.”

 Wynne’s expression was unreadable, and I could tell I wasn’t going to drag any more from her on the subject.


	19. Time For Truth

#  Chapter Nineteen: Time for Truth

 We rejoined the others, and I gave Aedan a slight nod as I sat down. He smiled at me, and I rested my head against his shoulder for a moment. Leliana was back, her expression tightly controlled, and I was briefly tempted to try to rekindle her blush, but decided that would be unkind. Aedan, Wynne, and I discussed the ritual that was to take place in Redcliffe. Wynne was skeptical, but Aedan and I both thought Morrigan was the best choice to enter the Fade. The question was how to get her to agree to it. My suggestion was to appeal to her pride - for Aedan to tell her that he didn't want to impose on her, but that he wasn't sure any of these other mages could do it, and ask her to help him choose someone. He wanted me to convince her, but I knew he could do it, and he needed to stay firmly in everyone's mind as the leader.

 I also suggested that Aedan try to get a few moments alone with Solona – assuming she was in Redcliffe – and see if she wanted to be recruited. He was the Grey Warden – I figured the offer should come from him. The conscription would certainly have to, if she agreed.

 We sat around the table or wandered the deck of the boat for the rest of the day. I was a tad seasick, having never been on a boat before, until Wynne used some sort of spell on me and I felt better. After that, sailing on the lake was glorious – sun shining, not excessive wind, and relatively warm. The spray from the water felt nice, though it made me wish for more – I was still sticky and disgusting from the corpse Alistair had dropped on me.

 We docked in Redcliffe late in the evening. We were met there by Bann Teagan, with a few of the knights and a very subdued Theron. Both men nearly jumped out of their skins when I disembarked, and I hid my smile behind my hand. Theron had the grace to look embarrassed, and I noticed Aedan narrowing his eyes in response.

 Apparently the mages had already arrived, and were in the process of readying the ritual; it would be morning before anyone could enter the Fade to rescue Connor. As we walked up to the castle, Teagan handed a piece of paper to Aedan, which was tucked into a pocket before I could blink. Morrigan joined us, pointedly telling Jowan to wait outside.

 Teagan managed to suppress his questions until we were inside, safely in the library. "My lady! I thought I'd lost my mind when you disappeared. Morrigan assured me you would be fine, but I was still worried. And why are you wearing armour?"

 I hesitated, but we had all decided to tell Eamon about myself and Theron anyway, and given the way I left Redcliffe, I couldn't justify further lies.

 "What has Morrigan told you?"

 "Not much. She's a hard nut to crack." She smirked, and I gave her a thankful smile.

 "She was protecting me. But I think it's safe to tell you everything. Are you all okay with that?" I turned and met each of my friend's eyes, getting cautious nods from Aedan, Alistair, Leliana, Morrigan, and finally, after a thoughtful moment, Theron. "Leliana, would you be a dear and grab my pack out of our room?" She nodded and scampered off.

 "I have to apologise, Bann Teagan. You see, for reasons of our own, each of us has secrets to hide, but mine are perhaps some of the biggest. I have lied to you, since we met, about many things. And I am sorry for that, though I had no choice at the time. If you'll promise not to act on what I tell you until you've heard the entire story, I will tell you the truth. Though you need to know that in this instance, the truth may put you in danger."

 He gave me his word, and for the second time in two days I launched into the explanation of where I came from. Leliana returned in the midst of this, and I started passing him items to back up my story. Having seen me disappear into thin air, he was moderately easier to convince than the rest of our little group, which was good because I knew nothing personal that I could use to convince him.

 "So, you can see, I am not a noblewoman, just a mystery in disguise. And the disguise was necessary, because there is another truth I was hiding. There were some survivors from the battle at Ostagar. Most of them from the rear of the vanguard, however, there were two from the very front line - one is a Grey Warden who has left on Warden business, but the other..." I gestured at Theron. "Take a closer look at my so-called bodyguard, my Lord. It might help to imagine him as a blond."

 Teagan turned his piercing gaze on Theron, who stepped forward, posture changing subtly to look more authoritative, more arrogant. Teagan studied his face, and I noticed him glancing surreptitiously at Alistair from the corner of his eye. _Finally someone else notices the resemblance!_ He turned to look at me, and I could see recognition, but then a question in his eyes. I shook my head slightly. _No, he doesn't know about Alistair. Don't blow it._ He turned back to Theron, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and bowed deeply.

 "Your Majesty, I cannot excuse myself enough. I should have recognised you sooner, Nephew."

 "Well, Uncle, that was rather the point of the disguise, wasn't it? No one takes too close a look at a noblewoman's mercenary bodyguard." He smiled and embraced the Bann warmly, and Teagan relaxed slightly. I stepped back in, speaking before Theron got fully back into King mode.

 "So I apologise, my Lord, for the deception, but it was the best way we could come up with to safeguard Theron, now that Loghain is angling for the throne. He dislikes the necessity of hiding his existence, but we have convinced him it is necessary. I hope we can count on you to keep this secret? You must continue to treat him like a nobody. If anyone sees you defer to him, or call him 'your majesty', Loghain will stop at nothing to have him (and anyone who knows about him) executed."

 Teagan nodded, bowing his head to Theron in acquiescence. He looked thoughtful, and I imagined he would have a lot of questions later. During the discussion, some of our group had slipped out, so by the end, there was only Theron, Aedan, Alistair, and myself with Teagan in the library. Once it seemed he was convinced, Aedan excused himself and asked to speak to Theron privately. The two left, and I was alone with Alistair and Teagan. He waited until we heard the footsteps recede, and then Teagan spoke.

 "Maker's breath, how did I not see it? Alistair, you and he could practically be twins. But...listen, I think he knows, or maybe at least guesses. I don't know how - some servant gossiping about you perhaps? But some of the things he's said since you left, Lady Sierra..."

 "Just Sierra, please. I'm not a noblewoman, I never was." I blushed and refused to meet his gaze. "But, my lord, what do you mean about Theron? What did he say?"

 "I can't remember exactly. Something about royal bastards running around the castle, I didn't pay attention to the rest. Though...I was quite annoyed, actually. If it hadn't been for you, Sierra, I probably would have turned him out for being impudent." I stood stock still, furiously trying to think. What had I said, exactly? _Oh God, what have I done?_ My hands covered my horrified face of their own accord, and I felt both Alistair and Teagan reach out to steady me.

 "Sierra?" Alistair asked, voice kind. "Are you alright?"

 "No, I'm really, really not. I'm so sorry, Alistair. I swore I'd never tell anyone, but I think I screwed up. I think I accidentally told Theron."

 "What? How-"

 "I was angry. The reasons don't matter, now. But I told him...something like why didn't he go seduce another serving girl, because what was one more royal bastard in Redcliffe Castle? I'm so sorry Alistair. I can't believe...I'm so stupid...I just don't think before I talk sometimes."

 Alistair sighed, but to my surprise, squeezed my hand gently. "It's okay. We knew he'd figure it out eventually, whether Eamon or Loghain or someone else told him. I guess at least here we have the chance to deal with it before it gets ugly in public."

 "Promise me to stay away from him until I talk to him? Please? Let me fix this, as much as it can be fixed."

 "Oh don't worry about me. I've no desire to have my execution ordered by my King. I think I feel the need to sleep in tomorrow." He turned to leave, bowing slightly to Teagan on the way. I watched him sadly, then turned back to Teagan. We were alone.

 "I'm sorry, my lord."

 "I thought we agreed, no more titles?"

 "That was fair, my lord, when you thought I had a title as well, but I don't. I'm not a noblewoman, I don't even have the same status as a serving woman - I'm not Fereldan."

 "Ah. You think this is why you couldn't be with someone here?"

 "Only one reason of many, my lord."

 "Many? I didn't think we were that bad. And if I'm the noble and you're not, you have to do as I say, right? So that means...at least in private, you will call me Teagan. Alright?"

 "Yes, Teagan, many. I would have thought it was obvious. You're a noble, I'm not. I'm not even clear that I'm really even human in this world, or if I’m just insane and you a figment of my imagination. Even if you're real, I'm fairly certain that me vanishing into thin air isn't going to go over well at parties. And then showing up again, who knows where, with weird clothing..."

 "Sierra, if you didn't want them to be, those reasons wouldn't be enough." I opened my mouth to object, and he held up a hand to stop me. "Peace, woman, I'm not being pushy. I can see the forest despite the trees. Your heart belongs to someone else. I don't blame you - he's a good person, and deserves someone like you. For the record, you definitely picked the right brother. I just hope you will let him in, when the time comes." I blushed crimson, looking down.

 "Thank you, Teagan. But as you will eventually see, I have nothing to offer you or anyone else." I swallowed, my voice thick with emotion that I refused to let out. "I'd like to change the subject. Will you keep an eye on Theron when we go? He seems to listen to Aedan, and I've managed to shame him into behaving a couple of times, but...I'm afraid he's going to forget the minute we're out of sight and start trying to order you to provide him an escort and march directly on Denerim. Can you manage him, until we get back? Honestly, if it means you have to lock him up in the dungeon, will you do it, for the good of Ferelden?"

 "In this...performance of yours, he didn't survive, did he?"

 "No. Alistair was forced to take the throne, and he was brilliant at it, despite hating every minute of it. I am glad Theron survived, but good God keeping him alive in spite of himself is proving to be a chore."

 "I'm amazed you want to, really. I confronted him, when you disappeared. He didn't confirm anything, and clearly had nothing directly to do with your disappearance, but I can guess what happened to make him look so guilty."

 "Please don't. Aedan will kill him, if Alistair doesn't. They're too honourable for their own good. It was a stupid mistake, one he paid for in humiliation, and I won't risk everything to let someone defend my non-existent honour. Just don't speculate, okay? Not even in your inside voice." At this Teagan laughed, and I blushed into a red-faced grin. _Stupid earth sayings._

 "In answer to your question, yes, I will manage him, somehow. But you better be around to back me up and keep me from the executioner's axe afterwards."

 "I swear. And I'll have words with Aedan and Alistair, just in case I'm not."

 "Can I ask you something?" I nodded. "You're not Fereldan. This is neither your world nor your fight. With your knowledge, you could just run away. So...why?"

 "I..." I had to think. _How to explain?_ "Where I'm from, my life is safe but horrible. Nothing scary ever happens, but I also don't ever feel like I can make a difference. I'm an anonymous nobody. I have no family, no friends. At the moment I don't even have a job. I'm not leaving anything behind.

 "Here I can maybe make a difference. Besides. We're in the middle of a Blight - where would I go? And honestly, I'm not even sure I have a choice. You saw what happened when Aedan and Alistair left me behind. I just disappear and catch up to them. God forbid they ever separate - I might end up as two skinny dwarves instead of one human." I giggled, and Teagan laughed.

 "Being in two places at once sounds useful, actually."

 "Doesn't it? I might just have to try it and see what happens."

 With another laugh, I finally took my leave and headed to the guestroom I was in before. Approaching the door with dread, I stepped inside with a sigh of relief. Leliana was nodding off in the chair, though she jumped up as the door swung shut.

 "I thought you might like some company. Though after last night I wouldn't blame you if you sent me away."

 "Leliana, seriously? I enjoyed the cuddle. I'm not freaked out. Relax, okay? I trust you. Now get your ass into that bed and go to sleep."

 And we both did.

 In the morning the mages had finished preparing, and Aedan had discussed the situation with Morrigan - successfully, obviously, since she volunteered when the lead mage asked who would be going. Unlike in the game, Irving himself was not present, but a whole slew of templars were. Connor's sleeping form had been moved into the middle of a circle of seated mages, and Morrigan sat beside him, taking his hand in her own. She looked up at us, telling us to go away and stop staring at her, then nodded to the leader to begin.

 I had already donned my light leather armour, and with practice sword in hand I went out to the courtyard. I warmed up as usual, and then Wayne had me actually practice with the sword on a scarecrow stuffed with hay. I watched and then tried to mimic the strikes he taught me, only somewhat managing to avoid tripping over myself. Shaking his head, he took my sword away again and instead handed me an actual dagger, though the blade was dull. I felt much more comfortable with this, and was much more successful at not falling down as I slashed and stabbed at the dummy. He tried me with a second dagger, and my coordination suffered a bit, but I was able to compensate.

 The obvious conclusion - that I was apparently a rogue, at least I might be if I trained for another 20 years perhaps - stunned me. I never played rogues in games, always chose to be a mage, or a ranger, or if forced to fight in melee, a sword-and-shield warrior type. I had never thought of myself as dexterous; I thought I disliked the sneaky stuff. Though I had to admit that in an actual battle, when I was one step from throwing up on myself in fear, being sneaky didn't seem so bad really.

 And it was one more defense against Irving’s assertion that I was a templar...unless the game was wrong and rogues could be templars in reality.

 The sound of snorting laughter brought me back, and I realised that I was stabbing at a mostly destroyed practice dummy with both daggers flying, showing no finesse and a fair amount of pure fury. I stopped, embarrassed, trying not to listen to the jokes flying about the little girl and her pointy daggers, though I walked a little taller when I heard a couple saying things like "Remind me not to get on her bad side!"

 I needed to talk to Alistair.

 I needed a bath.

 Torn between conflicting needs, I handed Wayne back both daggers with a blush and an apology, then headed back into the castle - both needs were within. But which to do first?

 My question was answered as I literally ran headfirst into Alistair in the hallway. I bounced off him, managing not to fall, to my relief. As I stepped back, I realised he was holding a towel, a pile of clean clothes, and soap. I narrowed my eyes - he wasn't anywhere near a bathtub - and then grinned.

 "Having a shower?" He blushed and stammered. _Poor Chantry boy_. I decided to rescue him from his own painful degree of innocence. "Go, don't let me stop you. But after...would you meet me? I think we need to talk."

 He agreed, and we elected to meet up in the main hall once I was done bathing and he finished showering. I rushed to have a bath drawn up, and sank into it gratefully as I scrubbed away equal measures of sweat and frustration, washing my hair twice for good measure. I'd washed up on the boat as well as I could, but without shampoo I wasn't convinced my hair was even close to clean of blood and gore.

 Afterwards I put on my linen dress and bound my hair up - Teagan had suggested we maintain my status as a 'lady', so I wasn't supposed to go around in pants and a shirt, to my annoyance. I headed to the main hall and found Alistair chatting with Teagan, both laughing over stories of Alistair's youth. Teagan gave me an impish smile as Alistair jumped up when he saw me. I blushed, avoiding his eyes, and followed Alistair upstairs to the same balcony I'd gone to with Teagan.


	20. Unanswered Questions

#  Chapter Twenty: Unanswered Questions

 I was reluctant to break the silence, at first, and more afraid of the answers I might get to the questions I needed to ask. Alistair stared out over Redcliffe Village, expression distant. I turned to sit on the wall of the balcony.

 "It was you who left me this." He showed me the amulet around his neck, the one that had been fixed by Eamon. I nodded.

 "Why didn't you say anything?"

 "You were sleeping, and I didn't want to disturb you. And I didn't want to draw attention by giving it to you with others around."

 "I suppose you already know how much it means to me, but thank you."

 "Did Duncan tell you much about her?"

 "A bit. He promised to send her a letter asking her to come to Ferelden at some point once this crisis is ended. Can you believe I'm half an elf?"

 "You seem a bit tall for an elf, I admit."

 "I don't exactly know how I feel about it. I mean, when I thought she was dead, my upbringing made sense. But now..."

 "You wonder how she could have left you." He nodded. "She wasn't given a choice, is how. She's unique, for the Grey Wardens - somehow she is no longer Tainted. Not subject to the Calling. I wouldn't be surprised if you end up having to go to Weisshaupt to see her, instead of hoping she comes here - they will never want to let her go. They want to 'study' her. If she kept you, you'd have been used as a hostage against her. And against Ferelden, had they figured out who your father was. She was trying to save you from them."

 "You sound so bitter about the Grey Wardens."

 "Everything I've read, everything in the performance...Duncan, and you and Aedan, are such honourable men. And from what you've said, many of those that died at Ostagar, too. The other Grey Wardens really...aren't. They've taken the whole 'the end justifies the means' thing way too far, and somehow lost their humanity in the process. Kind of like the templars, actually. Truly, the only hope I have for the future of the Grey Wardens lies with you and Aedan."

 He looked uncomfortable, and I chose to change the subject, give him some space on the topic.

 "So. Is there any way for you to check if someone is a templar?"

 "Unless you use a templar ability like holy smite on me? No."

 "Well, you were standing nearby when Uldred died. Did I use holy smite then?"

 "No. However, you could have used an ability that only targets mages - or other mana-using creatures - for example, and I wouldn't know. In theory, anyway."

 "You're a big help." I sighed, sliding my back down the wall to sit on the floor, curled up with my chin on my knees. "Okay well, are you aware of any templar ability that would do...what happened to Uldred?" The image of the abomination with blood spraying out of his eyes, nose, and mouth made me nauseous, and I tried to think of something else. I ended up looking up at Alistair's handsome face, and felt better.

 "I'm not. But...I wasn't a full-fledged templar, either. It's possible there are some skills I never learned, or some way that Lyrium grants more abilities." Alistair slid down to sit beside me.

 "Alright, well...can someone who is a rogue be a templar? Or are they all warriors?"

 "I doubt the divide between those is as big as you think. If your question is whether someone who leans more to dexterity than strength can be a templar, the answer is yes."

 "I hate you right now. You know that, right?" He grinned half-heartedly. "Okay, here's one. Have you ever heard of someone being born with innate templar powers? Or do they have to be trained?"

 "I've definitely never heard of innate abilities. Everyone I ever knew had to train, though some had to work harder at it than others. I think the key was the discipline, being able to clear your mind of everything but what you were trying to do. Those who were good at the discipline found the abilities came easier."

 "Well, that clinches it, then. I'm no templar. I've never trained, I lack even the most basic discipline, and my mind was definitely not focused during that fight with Uldred - I was screaming in fear for you and Aedan. It must have been that electricity thing from back at home."

 Alistair grimaced. "A random lightning strike? With specific effects that mimic a templar's abilities? And happening this often? Do these 'surges' happen often, normally? It seems like a poor system, if yes."

 "Well, no, they don't, but...it makes more sense than me being some sort of innate templar freak, doesn't it?"

 "I just don't know, Sierra. Some part of me hopes you are a templar, mostly so I could rub it in the face of the Revered Mother where I was trained. She spent a lot of time trying to make me feel guilty for not being keener to finish my training, for making them waste the effort on me. Someone with abilities like that without them and without Lyrium...yeah, that would be kind of fun. As to what they would do to you if it was true and they found out...I don't know."

 We sat silently for a bit, shoulders barely touching. Between the stone I leaned on and the wind, I was cold; between the cold and my fear, I started shivering slightly. Alistair put his arm over my shoulders, offering his warmth, and I leaned into him, but the shivering wouldn't stop. I tried to hold it in, was furious as a couple of tears trailed down my face. Alistair looked down in surprise as one of them splashed onto his hand.

 "Oh, blast. Don't cry, Sierra. We will figure it out. And Duncan, Aedan and I won't let anything happen to you."

 "You can't promise that. I appreciate that you want to, but...you can't even promise to survive the Blight, given what I know Duncan told you. And that's assuming I don't just disappear and end up in the middle of the darkspawn horde. No one can keep me safe, Alistair." There was no reply to that, and so he just sat, providing comfort and warmth all at once.

 I wiped a couple of frustrated tears away, finally forcing the shaking to stop. We sat for another few minutes while I collected myself, and as we stood the door to the balcony burst open and Aedan came through with Prince, with eyes flashing, and a face like thunderclouds. It was a good testament to how angry he looked that Alistair stepped in front of me, arms out, as Aedan barrelled towards me. Even Prince got in front of him, growling. _Protecting me? From Aedan?_

 "You will tell me what happened, Sierra."

 "What? Aedan, what is wrong?"

 "You told us you thought disappearing might be triggered by emotional upset. What did he do?"

 "Aedan, I have no idea what you're talking about. What's going on?"

 "I've been trying to get the truth from Theron, but he won't say. Morrigan knows something, but she wouldn't either and now she's busy. Don't act stupid. What did he do?"

 "Nothing, Aedan. Please. Stop. There's nothing for you to go poking your nose in. Just let it go, okay?"

 Alistair had stepped to counter any move he tried to make towards me, and the two men were coming close to wrestling as he kept trying. Aedan was practically growling in frustration, and I finally thought to intervene. I put one hand gently on Alistair and moved him to the side. Prince reluctantly let me pass.

 "He won't hurt me. It's okay." I approached Aedan, hands out. When I reached him, I put my hands on his shoulders, ducking down to meet his gaze. "Aedan. I'm fine. Everything's fine."

 He was almost shaking with rage. I held his gaze, trying to reassure him. He finally slumped a little, the tension draining out of him, and I took the opportunity to give Alistair a look, motioning my head towards to door leading inside. He gave me a skeptical look but I nodded and motioned again. Finally he acquiesced and practically tiptoed inside. I'd never noticed before, but Alistair could move quite quietly when he tried. When not wearing armour, at any rate.

 Left alone with Aedan, I waited for him to finally speak. When he did, his words surprised me.

 "I'm sorry, Sierra, if I scared you."

 "I've never been scared of you, Aedan. Scared for you, yes, but not of you."

 "It's just...you're the only family I have left, Sierra. Well, Fergus, too, but I’m not going to see him anytime soon. You are my sister, regardless of where you were born. I left the rest of them behind, knowing they'd be slaughtered. I swore to myself that I wouldn't do the same again, that I'd protect you, and then I left you here. With him. And you can deny it if you want, but I know he did something. I could see it on his face, and he tried to rub my nose in it this morning, thinking I was a jealous lover."

 "You don't have to worry about him. I may not be able to protect myself from darkspawn, but I can certainly manage one idiot. Trying to brag is just a symptom of his wounded pride. You want to know what happened? I kicked his ass. He surprised me with an inappropriate advance after I had already told him no. I didn't realise it was him, when he surprised me - I tossed him to the ground and almost slit his throat. And I held him down there until he realised I was serious. He won't bother me again, I don't think. His fragile little ego wouldn't allow him to be bested by a woman twice, I suspect. He didn't hurt me, I promise. And you need to let it go - he's your King."

 "Sierra, I...I just couldn't...if anything happened to you..."

 "How's this. Next time someone tries to seduce me, I'll let you kick his ass. Deal?" He snorted, and I giggled.

 "Oh and just who do you think is going to try?"

 "Well, let me tell you, if Sten tries I'm definitely calling you to help." Now we both started giggling, and that's how a frightened-looking servant found us a few minutes later.

 "My lord, my lady, Bann Teagan requests your presence in the main hall."

 We collected ourselves and Aedan offered me his arm to escort me downstairs. Before we went, I quickly explained the problem that Theron may have learned about Alistair's parentage. He promised to think about any possible damage control for that problem. As we drew close, it became obvious why we'd been requested. We could hear multiple voices talking, but the one that stood out was Isolde's high-pitched Orlesian accent, crying and exclaiming. The mages had finished their ritual; Connor was awake.

 Entering the main hall, Isolde knelt at the front of the room, hugging a very dazed-looking Connor to her breast. The snooty Orlesian annoyed me to no end, but even I was forced to smile at the emotional reunion. Alistair stood by himself, expression a mix of pleasure and longing. It tugged at my heart seeing him look like that, especially for this horrible woman who had treated him so poorly. I had to struggle with myself not to run over and hug him. Aedan rescued me by excusing himself and heading over to clap his hand on the templar's shoulder, distracting him with some sort of conversation.

 I looked around the rest of the room; Leliana was talking with Theron and Bann Teagan, with Sten glowering nearby; the mages were talking amongst themselves, and Morrigan stood alone, expression aloof. I went over to her, drawing a surprised grunt as I drew her into a hug.

 "Thank you, Morrigan. I know this seems like a waste to you, but on behalf of all of us, thank you. I wouldn't have trusted the others to do it right." She studied my face for a moment, and I wondered if she thought I was mocking her. Seeing no humour on my face, she finally smiled slightly and nodded.

 "'Twas nothing I couldn't handle." I smiled and turned to draw her towards the others with me. She reluctantly followed. Leliana gave me an odd look, but I couldn't help it. I felt sorry for Morrigan. She had no idea how to relate to people, knew she was disliked, and had not the first idea how to deal with it. All of her icy demeanor was a self-defense mechanism. I decided to make it my personal mission to break that down.

 As we reached the group, one of the mages approached me, and I turned toward him, pushing Morrigan into the empty space beside Leliana. The mage handed me an envelope, and then slipped away before I could ask anything. I looked at it - the flap was sealed with wax, stamped with an insignia I didn't recognise. As I ripped open the envelope, I tried to preserve it to show Aedan later, just in case.

 Inside the envelope was a thick piece of paper covered in neat handwritten script. I had to look at it a couple of times to understand it - _no one at home uses cursive anymore!_ \- but was able to figure out that it came from Irving. As I glanced at it, I realised what it contained was not meant for casual eyes. I folded it up, tucking it into my armpit where it wouldn't be seen, then slowly eased my way to a doorway and out. I found myself in the hallway with the library, and snuck in there to read more closely.

  _Lady Sierra,_

_I hope this finds you well. I wanted to let you know that your interest in templar history is quite natural, and no one here in the tower will think strangely of you for your research. I would love to hear what you learn, someday, and hope to meet you again in the future to discuss it._

_I thought you would be interested to know that one of the mages visiting you knows more about templar history than anyone else, and can probably answer any questions you may have. I trust him completely, and will not even ask him to reveal your research to me upon his return should you choose to discuss it with him. If this is of interest to you, seek out Enchanter Tanar before they leave._

_Respectfully,_

_Irving_

 Dear Irving! I realised he must have managed to keep me secret from Greagoir, and his letter was vague enough not to implicate me had it been intercepted. _I may have to kiss him next time I see him._

 I tucked the letter into my bra, then snuck back into the main hall hoping no one noticed my absence. I asked one of the servants if she knew which one was Enchanter Tanar, and she pointed out a slightly balding elf whose age I could not start to guess. I edged toward him, then approached the group of mages as though to thank them for their help, 'accidentally' bumping into Tanar first. I spoke with him for a few moments, making a big show of shaking his hand and looking grateful. He watched me curiously, but responded appropriately to my show of thanks. After a moment, realising no one was looking at us, I murmured to him that I would like to speak with him before he left for the Tower, and asked him to find me in the library after the noon meal. He nodded, looking confused, but I left him before anyone would notice my interest in him.

 Teagan and Isolde threw a lunch feast for the mages before they sailed. The entire castle seemed to be present, celebrating Connor's 'return to health'. Apparently a rumour had been circulating that whatever had afflicted Eamon had similarly struck Connor, and everyone was subtly encouraging this to cover up the truth. The servants seemed to believe that Connor's recovery meant Eamon would also recover, and were truly celebrating.


	21. Testing

#  Chapter Twenty-One: Testing

 I ate lunch anxiously, trying to determine how to ask the mage what I wanted to know without totally giving myself away. Also, I wondered if I should invite Alistair to the meeting. Deciding that it would be useful to have an 'almost' templar to blame questions on, I motioned to Alistair to follow me after the meal. He gave me a weird look but complied, and a glance at Aedan had him drawing attention to himself, hiding our escape to the library. I showed Alistair the note that Irving had sent to me, and explained that I had asked Enchanter Tanar to meet me. Just as I finished, the man himself entered the library.

 I introduced Alistair and myself, and we all settled into chairs. I spoke first.

 "Thank you for coming, Enchanter Tanar. I appreciate it."

 "I admit to being slightly intrigued, my lady. Not many mages are requested for personal audiences, unless they need healing. For which, if you require, I would recommend Enchanter Wynne instead of myself. My healing skills are rudimentary at best."

 "No, no. Thanks for the offer, but I'm not looking for a healer. I actually am looking for some knowledge I believe you may possess. I'm hoping to ask you some questions. About templars."

 "You wish information about the Templar Order? May I ask why?"

 I'd thought about that a lot. "Well, you see, my friend here was in training as a templar when he was recruited by the Grey Wardens. And since he didn't complete his training, he is left not knowing a lot of things he probably should. I was led to believe that you may be able to answer many of the questions. I am trying to understand what he's going through - I'm sure you can imagine why I'd like to know more." I gave Alistair a fond look, winking carefully with the eye Tanar couldn't see, when he shot me an incredulous stare. "Don't worry, I'm sure we can trust the Enchanter's discretion, dear." _I can’t believe I’m even pretending to be sleeping with Alistair._

 It worked. Any suspicions seemed to be laid to rest, and Tanar relaxed. "You can, I give you my word. I can certainly try to answer your questions. What would you like to know?"

 I started with some basics about templar training, learning little more than I had through the game. Templars required discipline, and mental fortitude, and training. Their abilities were likely a form of magic but not the kind that tempted demons, so they were not at the same risk of becoming abominations as mages. They learned faster when taking Lyrium, and were likely stronger, although that seemed not to be universally believed. He felt that it was possible the Lyrium addiction really was only to keep control over the templars who might otherwise desert or disgrace themselves.

 We moved on to the more complex topics.

 "So can anyone be trained as a templar?"

 "Well, yes, to some extent. The basic abilities can be taught, but there are certainly some people who are better suited than others." He paused, but seeing my interest, continued. "Some people seem to have innate talents that allow them to learn more advanced abilities than others. And the order is quick to take advantage of that when they find it - only those who seem talented advance to hold authority. They do not promote those with mediocre abilities."

 "Alistair mentioned that those who were better at the discipline were stronger in their abilities."

 "That's true in a general sense, in the way that someone with a better attention span learns to read faster than someone with a short one. But there do seem to be other unrelated differences as well, just like some people can make good scholars despite a short attention span."

 "And what innate talents make a good templar?"

 "I've never been able to determine that for sure, to be honest. It doesn't seem to have anything to do with birthplace, bloodline, or basic personality traits, that I can find. If the Order itself is aware, they have managed to keep the secret remarkably well."

 "So...is there any way to test who can learn more advanced abilities?"

 "Sort of. If someone has not trained as a templar, a rough idea of how difficult it will be to train them can be determined by a mage who knows what to look for. Alistair, you may not remember if you were taken in by the Chantry as a child, but at some point before they began training you, you'd have been brought before a mage, and made to stand while he or she seemed to simply stare at you while holding a small flame in their hand. After that they would slot you into training based on how the mage rated your potential abilities. They seem to use guilt to...push those who they believe capable of more than the average."

 "Well, they were good at wielding guilt, no question. Mind you, being the practical joker of my dorm, I probably deserved it, and not for any innate abilities." Alistair and I shared a grin.

 "So...could you describe some of the 'advanced abilities' that can be learned?"

 "That's very difficult actually. Each templar has some variation in even the basic skills - some can narrow the target to a single person, while others can expand to unlimited targets, for example. The advanced skills are even more variable. Some templars can injure mages more if they have more mana to drain. Some can drain multiple targets at a time, others can resist even the worst blood magic, but couldn't drain the mana from a kitten. Some can smite anyone, others can refine it to just impact those using mana."

 Alistair was nodding at most of those, and I saw the mages eyes widen slightly.

 "Alright, well...for example, could a templar drain the mana from a number of mages, and then somehow cause one or two of them to sort of...explode? Like, blood coming out of their eyes and things?"

 Tanar's eyebrows rose, and he levelled an impressed look at Alistair. "If you can do that, young man, I am amazed the Chantry let you go without threatening an Exalted March."

 Alistair shook his head. "Not me, no. I saw someone else do it, once."

 "Not many templars can do it; at Kinloch, Greagoir might be the only one who can use a mage - or a number of mages - to fuel a spell like that. Though they are told it can’t be used for purposes like that."

 "Are you saying that he'd be using magic to do that?"

 "More like...forcing others to use magic, without their consent. The mage being drained doesn't even need to know the spell being cast to make that work."

 I looked to Alistair to see the same horror on his face that I was sure was also on mine.

 "So it's like enslaving a mage and forcing them to do magic they don't wish to do?"

 "I...can see how it would seem that way.” He paused, seeming to consider his words. “But it's more like, oh, say someone mixes up weed killer for a garden. And then someone else steals that weed killer and uses it instead to poison their unfaithful spouse. The poisoning wouldn't have been possible without someone to mix weed killer, but the person who made it was neither responsible for the use to which it was put, nor was he enslaved by whoever stole it. He was just short some resources because he had to mix more weed killer for his garden.

 "The mage being drained may only intend their mana be used in a certain way, but the templar doing the draining can repurpose it, for good or evil."

 The horror abated a bit, but I knew this would still give me nightmares later. _Please God, don't let me be the one with those abilities._ Alistair finally spoke up and asked the million-dollar question. _Oh sure, now that I don't want to know, you chime in._

 "So are you one of the mages who knows how to test for templar abilities?" Tanar nodded. "Would you be willing to test Sierra? I'm just so curious if I could ever train her to be like me." _Laying it on a little thick, aren't we? Bastard._

 Tanar agreed, although he suggested we not be in the library when he would need to summon a ball of flame. We headed down into the basement, standing in a rarely used storage room, currently devoid of anything but dust.

 He asked Alistair his range on his usual abilities, and had him stand well outside that range, while we stood near each other on the opposite side of the room.

 "Do I have to stare into the fire or something?"

 "Not unless you wish to. All I need is for you to stay nearby." With that, he whispered something under his breath, and suddenly a small ball of orange flame bloomed in his hand. He held it out, then closed his eyes, silently waiting. As we waited, the ball very slowly enlarged, and the colour became more vibrant, and I watched, fascinated. I started feeling that same crackling aura I had felt around the darkspawn Emissaries and Uldred, the hair on my forearms standing up, goosebumps erupting all over me. I continued to stand, quietly, unsure what to do with myself and feeling strangely edgy from the aura. The sensation continued to grow as the ball of fire got larger, and my skin started to itch.

 In the distance, I heard a loud thump and a short, sharp scream. I jumped as the sudden noise startled me, and I wondered if we were under attack. Tanar gasped, beside me, and I turned back just in time to see his face go pale, the fire ball wink out, and him slump to the ground. I caught him as he fell, easing him onto the cold stone floor. Alistair checked outside the door, discovering that the sound was nothing more than a servant in a nearby room who'd knocked over a crate of supplies. He came back over to check on the unconscious mage. I'd ascertained that he was still breathing and had a pulse, but had no idea what else to do. Alistair and I shared a worried look.

 "Should I go...I don't know, get one of the other mages or something?"

 "Uh...I don't know. Did anything like this ever happen when you were in training?"

 "No. I've never seen a mage faint before for no reason."

 "Well, maybe...get Wynne? And try not to be too obvious about it. I'll stay here in case he wakes up."

 Alistair agreed, helping me shift the unfortunate Tanar onto his back in a slightly more comfortable looking position, then running out of the room. I sat beside the mage, hand on his pulse, watching his face closely for any sign that he was waking. After a minute or so, he sort of twitched a little, and then a low, quiet groan echoed across the room.

 "Enchanter Tanar? Are you awake?" He opened his eyes, expression pursed in confusion.

 "What...what happened?"

 "I'm not sure. All of a sudden you just sort of slumped over." He looked thoughtful, and I could almost see the memories slowly returning to him. He struggled slightly, and I helped him sit up.

 "I was testing you."

 "So you said."

 He thought for another few moments. "Cruel trick, asking me to test someone who's already a templar."

 "Pardon?"

 "Maybe you didn't know, but testing someone who is already trained like that can be dangerous. I hadn't even used enough mana to light a candle, and you snuffed it out, while draining me completely. If I'd put more into that spell, you could have harmed me."

 "But...I didn't do anything." He watched my face closely as I said this, and I saw my own puzzlement reflected on his face.

 "Tell me exactly what happened."

 I described the ball of flame, the crackly sensation, being surprised by a loud noise, then turning back in time to see him faint. His eyebrows drew closer and closer together as I spoke.

 "That's...not possible. You're sure you've never trained?"

 "I swear it."

 "But...you could see my visualisation of the spell before I had committed the mana to it. Even Greagoir can't do that. And you drained my mana while distracted? That's not supposed to be possible. Most templars require years of training to perform the most rudimentary of abilities without intense concentration. The way you describe it...it's like yours was triggered by the distraction."

 "But I didn't...I mean, I don't know how to...I'm not a templar!"

 Alistair returned with Wynne at that moment, and she rushed over to check on Tanar. As she touched him, she looked surprised, but then muttered under her breath and I felt the crackling aura again for a brief moment. Tanar relaxed, suddenly, looking much more comfortable, but he didn't look away from my face.

 "You felt that, didn't you?" I nodded. He looked over to Alistair, who was kneeling beside Wynne. "Did you?"

 "Did I what?"

 "Feel that. The spell Wynne just cast. The rejuvenation."

 "Uh, no?"

 He looked back to me. "No, my friend, you are not a templar." I almost sagged in relief. "You are something...more. You have abilities beyond any I have ever heard of, sensitivities that should not be possible. And yet you do not use discipline, you rely on emotional turmoil to trigger these abilities. I have no idea of what you may be capable, especially with training. But I would very, very much like to find out." _Oh great. You've got to be freaking kidding me! How in God's name did that happen?_

 I spent the next few minutes, with the help of Wynne, convincing Tanar to keep what he knew to himself. I begged, she semi-threatened, and we secured his confidence in return for a promise that next time I saw him, I would update him on any new abilities I had learned. He recommended I spend a bit of time figuring out my range, so if ever needed, I would know how far I had to be from a mage to drain them. With Wynne having rejuvenated him, he was able to cast his little ball of fire again. It seemed that no matter how small he kept it, my range at least for detecting magic was greater than we could test in the castle, and didn't hinge on line-of-sight – I could feel that crackle even from several rooms over.

 We decided that emerging all together in a group upstairs would draw unwanted attention to what we had been doing, so Alistair went upstairs first, followed by Tanar, and finally Wynne and I followed, arm-in-arm, pretending we had just been for a walk. Aedan gave me a look, but no one else seemed to notice.

 The mages were in the process of organising everything to leave. We all thanked them once again, Connor's shy smile a reward of its own. They finally took their leave, heading down to their boat at the docks – all except two, who watched the group leave and then walked away together to meet up with Jowan. As a group, we decided to meet in the much-used library for a planning session. On the way there, Theron approached me and grabbed my arm to pull me aside.

 "You didn't tell your new lover about us."

 "Theron, I swear to God if you don't let go of my arm, I will scream for everyone in the castle to hear all about us. Mostly about the part where you touched me, uninvited, while I was changing. And then about the part where I held you down in the water and gave you that nick. If you really want to re-ascend to the throne known as the 'would-be rapist King who was beaten up by a nearly naked girl', I suggest you keep acting like this. Otherwise, grow up." I tried to pull my arm away, but he held on and I wasn't strong enough to break his grip.

 "The King himself isn't good enough for you, but you'll make eyes at his bastard half-brother?"

 "You know what? I could only ever wish to be good enough to deserve your half-brother. Do you know that if you had died, he would have hated every minute of it, but he would have done his duty? He would have done his level best to preserve your memory, protect your scheming bitch of a wife, and take care of your people the way you could never be bothered to do. You don't deserve him as a brother. Why don't you spend your time trying to find ways to be a better monarch, rather than ways to confirm for me why I don't want to sleep with you?

 "Now this is your last warning. Let me go, and do not touch me again."

 I finally ripped my arm free of his grasp, storming off to the library. I stopped outside, trying to decrease the flush in my face, and the anger that was still overflowing, before entering. I needn't have bothered - Aedan took one look at my face and his clouded over; I could practically see sparks when he spotted Theron coming in. Fortunately the room was rather full of people, and he could do nothing about it. Everyone finally gathered, and before they could start talking, I revealed what Alistair and I had learned from Tanar during the day.

 Everyone looked shocked, and some sort of skeptical at the revelation. All I could do was shrug and say "I guess we will see" in response to the myriad questions that were thrown out. Theron's response was the most interesting, to me.

 "So...you did save us. At Ostagar. It wasn't some random mage. It was you."

 "I...suppose. I mean, there were a bunch of Emissaries around, I could feel them, so I suppose I could have drained them to somehow...shield you, or something. And maybe to kill a bunch of them which allowed Arl Bryland's men to escape."

 "I guess I'm supposed to thank you, then." The bitterness in his voice surprised even me, but I decided to ignore it.

 "Don't. I had no idea what I was doing then, and I still don't now. Don't thank me for a happy accident."

 The group all watched this interplay with a mix of confusion, concerns, and anger on their faces, but not one said a word. I was grateful. Aedan, as usual, rescued me before it went on too long by clearing his throat.

 “We have a potential new Grey Warden recruit. You were right, Sierra – Solona was miserable, and I’m half-convinced they were still going to have her executed. She has elected to stay in Redcliffe for now, and think about whether to join us. The Circle has assigned two templars to stay here and watch over both Jowan and her, as well as Connor, until she’s made up her mind and Eamon is awake. If she chooses not to, she will go back to the Circle when the templars take Connor to the Circle and Jowan to be made Tranquil.”

 I winced at the news, not surprised, but still somewhat sympathetic to the idiot mage. He didn’t deserve to be Tranquil, but it was quite clear to me that blood magic couldn’t be allowed to persist. I shrugged and tried to put it aside. It was the same choice I had made, playing the game.

 Aedan then pulled out the piece of paper I'd seen Teagan hand him the previous night. I'd forgotten about it in the rush of everything that had happened.

 It turned out the paper was a letter that had been delivered to Redcliffe during our little jaunt to the Circle Tower. It was addressed to Aedan, care of Bann Teagan, and consisted of a short note and a map. The map was one of Ferelden, with several major landmarks but not much else on it. It was passed around the room as Aedan read the note aloud.

 "Dear Aedan, I know your sister loves maps, and I hope she finds this one complements her collection. I got it from her favourite Andrastian scholar, so I hope she sees the care with which I chose this gift. Please give her my highest regards, Tomas."

 Theron raised his eyebrows as Aedan read the note out loud, but I ignored it. The map was passed to me, and I stared at it for a while, uncomprehending. We needed a map to Haven, so surely that must be what he had sent, but there certainly was nowhere like Haven marked on it. I knew where it should approximately be, based on the map I'd brought with me from the wiki, and so I pulled out my own version to compare side-by-side. The map he sent looked to be quite ancient, made of a thick rough parchment and covered in paint that had dried into an interestingly abstract patina if you looked up close. I held the map near my face, examining the interesting paint, when I noticed that a few of the cracks were not exactly the same as the rest. Some of them were clearly random, from paint drying, but some looked artificially formed, as though someone drew a scalpel through the damp paint before it completely dried. The cracks were too perfect, and too deep. And they happened right in the area I knew Haven should be, based on my own rough print-out.

 I handed it to Leliana, and she confirmed my opinion. "This map appears to be ancient, but I think it's actually a forgery of an ancient map. Looking so old, if anyone had intercepted it they would have assumed it to be the courting present he described. But if he had it made to look old, then he'd have been able to alter it. And these cracks aren't natural. I think he's marked the roads leading to Haven."

 Everyone else looked somewhat skeptical, but Leliana and I were in agreement, and after studying my face for a moment, Aedan nodded.

 "Well, then we have our next destination. I think we should leave as soon as possible. I know we're all still tired, and we don't have to push very hard the first few days, but I propose we leave tomorrow morning." Everyone nodded, universally looking resigned. "Theron, you will stay here. The official story is that the Lady doesn't need a bodyguard traveling with our group, and as such is loaning you to Teagan to protect him since so many of the Knights have yet to return, and many of the soldiers perished."

 "I'm coming with you." I spoke quickly, not allowing the statement to even hint at being a question.

 "Agreed, Sierra. We can't have you disappearing from the castle anymore, so we will just have to hope that when you pop out, you will pop back in somewhere nearby." I nodded, relieved.   Theron snorted, looking disgusted, and went as if to leave. Aedan called him back, and then dismissed everyone else but me instead. With reminders to get sleep so as to be fresh for the morning's journey, the room slowly emptied. I waited anxiously, unsure what Aedan would do or say given how he felt about Theron at the moment.

 "Theron. We are counting on you to maintain your charade, to ensure no one figures out who you are while we're gone. You will train with the knights, but mostly follow Teagan around as a bodyguard. I have asked him to keep an eye on things, and to 'arrest' you and keep you in the dungeon if he thinks anyone will guess who you are, for your own safety." He forcefully met Theron's gaze, and finally, after a few moments of what looked like a pissing contest from my vantage point, Theron yielded.

 "Also, I understand you have figured out that you are not Maric's only child. I don't suggest you have to like that fact, nor would I suggest that you and Alistair need to become best friends. But I'd ask you to keep the information to yourself, if only to prevent anyone from scheming to take the throne from you using him. And I hope that you will keep in mind that Alistair is an honourable man. A good man. He doesn't want your throne, wants nothing to do with the succession, and is no threat to you. And he can't help who his parents were any more than you can."

 Theron refused to make eye contact and appeared to be childishly sulking, and Aedan seemed to decide to take it as assent. He offered me his arm and escorted me to my room, keeping Theron from ambushing me in the hallway again. I got a quick hug, a sloppy kiss from Prince, and then I slipped inside to find Leliana repacking our things, adding several sets of linen clothing to my pack, including nightgown-type dresses. _Where did she find the time to go shopping?_ She insisted that I bring two sets of armour - the set I'd 'borrowed' from Redcliffe had apparently been gifted to me, as well as the armour I wore out of the Circle Tower. She was basically finished as I entered, and as I looked at her uncertainly, she smiled and pulled me into the room to help me change clothes. She chattered about nothing important as I let my hair down, and immediately curled up with her back pressed against mine for warmth when we climbed into the bed. The last thing I recall her saying was "I guess I'm not allowed to call Alistair my favourite templar anymore." I fell asleep mid-giggle.


	22. Side-Tracked

#  Chapter Twenty-Two: Side-tracked

 In the morning was another early sendoff, all of us meeting Teagan and Isolde in the main hall for breakfast before we left. I’d have preferred it if Isolde had not joined us – she still pissed me off. Despite wearing armour and carrying two daggers - one of them given to me by Wayne right before breakfast, who then disappeared before I could thank him - Teagan insisted on treating me like a noblewoman, kissing my hand when I entered, holding my chair and offering his hand to help me up after. He offered me food off his own plate, and when I gave him a strange look, he merely gave me a smug smile and continued on. As we left, he kissed me softly on the cheek, whispered for me to take care, and then smirked again before turning to go back inside. That was when I noticed Theron, standing along in the shadows, glowering at us. I rolled my eyes and walked away. _I swear, all men are brain-damaged._

I met Solona only briefly, and while I was curious about her, and she was clearly wondering who I was, we didn’t really get a chance to chat.

 We went to collect Bodahn and Sandal first, and Bodahn almost jumped to see me in armour. He offered me a seat on his wagon, which I declined, although we did all gratefully stow our gear on it. As we headed east, I turned for one last look at Redcliffe before it was out of sight. I noticed Alistair doing the same, and we traded slightly embarrassed smiles.

 As we walked we discussed what was coming up. It seemed likely that we had at least two weeks of travel to reach Haven, and we were debating going to Honnleath first, assuming we ran into the merchant with the broken control rod. I voiced the opinion that more help when facing insane cultists and a dragon was better than less, and everyone finally agreed. We decided that if we found the merchant before the Honnleath turnoff, we would go there first.

 We also talked about the likelihood that Zevran would attack us before we made it to Haven. I described the scene - a woman alone begging help against the bandits - and the fight, with the tree being knocked over, the archers on the hill, the woman being a mage. I had Aedan sort-of convinced to spare Zevran, and although Alistair seemed reluctant he agreed to at least question the Crow before executing him.

 Our first day was uneventful, and we made good time. The road leading out of Redcliffe was raised, paved with stones, and quite well maintained, so even the wagon had no difficulty. We camped in a small clearing Morrigan found for us just off the road and protected by trees. We ate, mostly fresh food from the castle, and set up our tents. Leliana volunteered to share with me before I had any chance to worry about the sleeping arrangements, and I shot her a grateful look. Once settled, I sat down near Alistair and asked him if he'd be willing to train me.

 "Me train you? You're the super-templar, aren't you? You don't need me to train you."

 "Okay, it's possible I have some weird inexplicable skills, but Alistair, I don't know how to use them. I have no control when they happen, for all I know I could accidentally blast Wynne or Morrigan because I don't know how they work. And I may have some of the 'advanced lessons' or whatever, but I can't even do the basics. Please? I'm afraid I'll get myself into trouble, or worse - hurt some of you. Please teach me?" I looked up at him, and saw his face, which had looked somewhat irritated, soften.

 "I'll make you a deal. I'll try to train you in what I know. But when you learn some control over your skills, it will be your turn to train me. Agreed?"

 "You didn't have to barter for that, Alistair. If I could, I'd teach you everything I know now. I'd truly rather that the competent fighter have the skills, not the untrained clumsy girl with a pointy stick she'll probably end up impaling herself with at some point."

 Alistair laughed, and it seemed like some hurt had been mended - his smile was brighter, and he sat taller. He agreed to train me, and started me off with some exercises to clear my mind. It was sort of like meditation, and at first I was terrible at it. I fidgeted, got distracted by Leliana tuning her lute, got sucked into listening to a conversation where Aedan was trying to convince Sten to tell him about the Qun. Every time my attention wandered, Alistair talked me back, and by the time I crawled into the tent I was sharing with Leliana, I had managed to keep my mind clear for about half an hour. He told me that it was ‘pretty good for my first try’.

  _Oh, good. I love being patronised._ I had to concede that was probably just my insecurity speaking.

 We had set our usual watch rotation, waking one or the other of the Grey Wardens every couple of hours, and the night passed peacefully. In the morning, I had finally managed to get comfortable in my bedroll on the hard ground, and cursed loudly at Sten as he tromped through the camp waking everyone before it was even fully light out. Leliana had already gone out to start breakfast, and I was seriously considering going back to sleep when the tent collapsed on me. I shouted, and heard Aedan snicker and then rapid footsteps as he ran off.

 "I'll get you back, you bastard!"

 "My parents were married!" was his only reply, and against my will I found myself laughing, and alert. I'd never have been able to fall back asleep even if I wasn't being suffocated by a tent.

 I crawled out of my bedroll, scooting out of the tent and raising the tent pole again so I could don my armour and pack my gear. That done, I packed Leliana's as well, then folded the tent up and started towards Bodahn's wagon with both packs and the tent. I only made it a few paces before Alistair rushed over to help me. It occurred to me that I had never thanked him for all the times he'd helped me when I wasn't strong enough to carry my own things or keep up. I smiled up at him, brilliantly, as he put everything on Bodahn's wagon, then grabbed his shoulder, going up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He blushed, as did I, and I ruthlessly suppressed my libido as it perked up on contact _. That meditation just might come in handy for more than templar abilities._

 We got underway, heading further east, moving briskly but not so much as to leave us out of breath or sore the next day. My armour came with boots, but they were neither comfortable nor well-fitting, so I stuck with my own leather hiking boots. We'd been walking maybe two hours when I noticed both Alistair and Aedan start looking uncomfortable. Aedan's eyes began darting around, and Alistair actually unslung his shield from his back. The rest of us picked up on their obvious agitation, and began loosening weapons ourselves.

 "Darkspawn?" I finally asked.

 Aedan nodded. "Following us, I think."

 Morrigan must have noticed us faltering, or perhaps she saw the darkspawn themselves. The black bird circled around us twice, then turned off the road, and we assumed she meant for us to follow her. We did, climbing down off the road and into some heavy brush. We pushed through, hurrying, until we found Morrigan the woman standing in a clearing, partially surrounded by high boulders. We quickly boosted Leliana and Wynne up to stand on one of the tall rocks, and then I followed them, scrambling up as Alistair heaved me up by my rear end. There was no time to be embarrassed at the accidental intimacy, as Aedan was hissing at us to hurry, and he, Sten, and Alistair stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of the rocks we perched on with Prince growling at their feet. I couldn't see Morrigan, until I noticed one unnatural branch sticking out from between the trees, and realised she was in spider form, hiding.

 I sat, huddled into a ball, daggers still in sheaths in case I needed to climb down. Leliana knocked an arrow, and Wynne muttered something; at the same time that I could feel that crackling magical aura, I suddenly could sort of see a vague shimmering wall in front of the three of us. We waited just a few moments, and then the first of the darkspawn approached through the trees. Leliana's bow twanged, and the beast went down, an arrow protruding from its eye. Our elation was short lived, however, as a large group of the creatures stepped up into the space where he had been standing, and one of them returned fire. The arrow bounced off the invisible wall, landing harmlessly below us, but if the wall hadn't been there, it would have skewered Leliana neatly. We both flinched involuntarily, but as Leliana recovered, the rest of the group were in the fray. The rocks kept those on the ground from being surrounded, and it was almost hypnotic to watch Sten swing, Alistair bash, and Aedan slash at the attacking horde.

 Just as the main group of darkspawn engaged, Morrigan-spider inched out from between the trees, locking massive fangs onto the nearest darkspawn and ripping its head from its shoulders. Prince erupted from between two of the creatures, biting into the axe-wielding arm of a hurlock, preventing a lethal swing at Aedan, instead driving the axe into the flank of the genlock beside it. Leliana focused on picking off the archers, and Wynne was constantly chanting, sparks of magical energy flowing into those in the scrum, and every now and then freezing one of the beasts to be shattered by Alistair or Sten. It looked like a well-oiled killing machine, and I was impressed at the same time that I wanted to cry.

 With no major injuries, my companions quickly finished off the last of the group. Sudden silence descended, and I realised I'd somehow blocked out the shouting, screaming, grunting, and clashing during the battle. Leliana lithely sprang down from the rocks, and Sten assisted Wynne gratefully as she healed a small wound under his arm. Alistair offered to catch me, but I declined, not wanting to repeat my brief humiliation from the climb up. _Alistair’s hand on my ass isn’t going to improve my mental state at all._ He shrugged and wandered away, as I turned and slithered down the rock, bracing myself between it and its neighbour. I landed upright, possibly even gracefully, and took half a dozen steps across the clearing when I heard rustling behind me, and then a shriek as a hurlock rose from the battlefield, apparently not quite dead. I had spun as soon as I heard the rustling, drawing my daggers almost reflexively _. I might turn into a fighter yet - my first instinct isn't to scream and swoon, yay me!_ I was face to face with an enormous, pale, terrifying creature with blood running down its face, which smelled worse than a landfill.

 I waited for a mere moment, and the hurlock lumbered forward. I vaguely heard shouting from my friends behind me, but I couldn't spare the time to actually listen to what they said. I crouched slightly, expecting the disarmed darkspawn to throw itself on me, and was completely unprepared as it angled slightly past me instead, aiming for the rest of the group. I turned with it as it passed, and slashed out with the dagger in my left hand, accidentally burying it in the hurlock's back. It staggered and went down again, yanking the dagger from my hand, and then I saw a sword slash down, and looked up to see Alistair with a grim frown decapitate it. He reached down to remove my dagger, wiping it off on a scrap of cloth worn by the recently dead hurlock, and then handed it to me pommel first. I took it, stunned, and sheathed both of my weapons automatically.

 "You okay?"

 "I...yeah, I guess." My vision swam for a moment, and my legs didn't want to move - Aedan rushed up, wrapping his arm around my waist, dragging me off a ways from the pile of corpses. When we were all far enough away that we could no longer smell them, he let me sink to the ground and then sat beside me, holding my hand.

 The group all looked somewhat grim, but most of them only showed concern for me. I guessed they'd all been in combat enough times that it wasn't anything big for them, but it still shook me up every time. While Sten and Alistair piled corpses, Morrigan burned them, and Wynne insisted on checking me out, though it seemed that, again, I was the only one not at risk. We talked about that again - no one had ever heard of a darkspawn ignoring the closest target like that. We discussed the weirdness for a few minutes until an impatient Morrigan cut in.

 "Since no one has any useful information to add to this subject, perhaps we'd best be moving on? Or are we hoping to test it again by waiting for another group of darkspawn to come by?"

 We had to concede the point, and I picked myself up, giving myself a mental pep talk to get myself moving again. No one wanted to be anywhere near those corpses come nightfall, so we pushed ourselves hard for the remainder of the day, finally arriving at a campsite Bodahn knew of just after nightfall. We set up as usual, then I spent some time working with Alistair on my meditation. I did less well than I had the day before - images of darkspawn kept breaking my concentration. Finally frustrated, I gave up, promising to try again the next day.

 I slept poorly, waking from bad dreams several times. I finally crawled out to the fire to let Leliana get some better rest, but found both Aedan and Alistair there before me. Both looked haggard and somewhat glum, and I took an educated guess at what was wrong.

 "Grey Warden nightmares?" They both nodded. "I'm glad I don't get those. I have enough trouble sleeping. Who's on watch?"

 "Sten, technically, though I sent him to bed. If we are going to be up anyway, no point in him missing out on some sleep."

 "Tell you what. I can be groggy tomorrow, since I'm not the one fighting. You guys can't. Why don't you both bring blankets out here and curl up by the fire, see if you can sleep again." It took a bit more cajoling, but I finally managed to mother them both into lying down, one on either side of me. I kept the fire at a slow burn, and as I expected, soon saw both chests rising and falling regularly in the rhythm of sleep. _Amazing how knowing someone is watching over you makes sleep possible even in the worst circumstances._ I found myself humming songs from home, softly, under my breath.

 Aedan looked younger, asleep. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, but there were almost imperceptible lines of pain on his face that smoothed out when he slept. I fought the urge to ruffle his hair. I had a different urge with Alistair – the former templar’s lips curled up in a smile that looked positively lascivious, and I wondered what he was dreaming now. He was almost painfully good looking, and I wanted him to look at me with that smile. I forced myself to turn away; I was going to get myself in trouble if I continued staring.

 I was still there, still humming, a couple of hours later when the sun started to rise and Leliana crawled out of our tent. We crept off to the side a bit and she asked me what I was humming. I realised it was Billy Joel's Lullaby, and ended up being coerced into singing it softly for Leliana. I could see her concentrating, trying to remember it as I sang:

          Goodnight my angel time to close your eyes,

          And save these questions for another day.

          I think I know what you've been asking me.

          I think you know what I've been trying to say.

 

          I promised I would never leave you,

          And you should always know,

          Wherever you may go, no matter where you are,

          I never will be far away.

 

          Goodnight my angel, now it's time to sleep,

          And still so many things I want to say.

          Remember all the songs you sang for me,

          When we went sailing on an emerald bay?

 

          And like a boat out on the ocean,

          I'm rocking you to sleep.

          The water's dark and deep. Inside this ancient heart

          You'll always be a part of me.

 

          Goodnight my angel now it's time to dream,

          And dream how wonderful your life will be.

          Someday your child may cry and if you sing this lullaby,

          Then in your heart there will always be a part of me.

 

          Someday we'll all be gone,

          But lullabies go on and on.

          They never die;

          That's how you and I will be.

 

I sang it a couple of times for her, and knew she'd remember it. _So there, Billy Joel, now two different worlds know your music._ I could tell Leliana wanted to pester me for more songs, but I convinced her I would sing for her later - people in camp were starting to wake up. She didn't understand, I knew, but there was no way I was going to sing in front of Alistair. Especially given that most of the songs I knew well enough to sing were love songs. Even if Leliana did call my voice 'pretty'. _Pretty awful is more like it._

 We ate and got underway, and for the most part the day was peaceful. Once Aedan and Alistair sensed a group of darkspawn in the distance, but they must not have sensed us and went in a different direction. During the evening I worked on my meditation, and was able to keep my head mostly clear for close to an hour, which Alistair declared to be good progress. I slept better as well, and felt much improved the next morning. We walked for a couple more days like that, managing to avoid the occasional darkspawn group the Grey Wardens could feel in the distance, when we came upon the merchant that I recalled from the game, who gave us Shale's control rod after a short conversation. It wasn't where my memory of Sulcher's Pass should be on the map, but I guessed the game just picked a location at random. Unless I wanted to believe the 'butterfly effect', which meant that somehow my arrival in Ferelden caused his mule ran away somewhere different than BioWare expected... _my brain is going to explode. Stop thinking, Sierra._

 We learned that Honnleath was only a couple of days away, a day and a half further along the imperial highway, then a left turn and a quick jaunt off the main road. Even Sten didn't complain too much about us going out of our way. We kept walking, while I told everyone about the darkspawn and the demon we would encounter in Honnleath. And warned them about Shale - much like her name, I recalled her being somewhat abrasive, though I'd only played that DLC once.

 Bodahn elected to stay near the highway, uncertain what the roads would be like leading to Honnleath. We all shouldered our packs, or at least tried to - Alistair took mine without a word, slung it alongside his own, and headed off. I couldn't decide whether to be grateful or angry. But in truth I knew I couldn't keep up well while carrying it so I let it slide.

 As we approached Honnleath, Aedan and Alistair starting sensing the darkspawn, and we all dropped our packs and readied ourselves to fight. They wanted me to stay back, but I figured with my luck they'd just jump me from behind. I ended up being tucked in the middle, behind Alistair and Sten, but in front of the mages and Aedan. Leliana was beside me, bow drawn. We came upon the first group, and the distraction we provided allowed a couple of villagers who'd been fighting for their lives to escape. The darkspawn turned on us instead, and we engaged them as we could.

 As before, the darkspawn seemed to ignore me entirely. They swarmed us, managing to separate us from each other, each person being attacked by at least one or two - except me. Which meant that I was able to dance around, stabbing and slashing at their unprotected backs with impunity. I reached around to slit the throat of one who was about to hack at Wynne with a large rusty sword, then dashed over to an archer who was taking aim at Leliana and stabbed it in the belly. Not one of them looked at me until after I struck, and I felt weirdly, wildly invincible.

 I was on my way back to the main group to stab at yet another hurlock when Aedan slashed across its abdomen. It flailed wildly, with a weapon that essentially looked like a crowbar someone had filed to a point, and managed to slice into my forearm, ripping apart the flimsy leather bracer I wore and across my flesh. _So much for invincible._ It felt like a hot poker as it entered, and I shrieked, dropping my dagger and backing away as Aedan finished the creature off. It was the last, and everyone did one last turn to ensure they were all dead when Wynne spotted me cradling my arm.

 She shouted, and everyone ran over, the sudden flurry of activity dizzying. Sten and Morrigan just stood, looking impassive, but Aedan grabbed me around the waist and lowered me to sit. Leliana fumbled out a flask that smelled vaguely like tequila, and as Wynne held out my arm, she poured some of the sticky substance onto it. Alistair used my dropped dagger to cut away my bracer while I hissed in pain as the alcohol burned through the laceration.

 "Son of a bitch, Leli, that hurts. Wynne? Can't you just heal it?"

"Not until we make sure no darkspawn blood got into it, dear. This should do it. One moment."

 I felt the magical aura rise as Wynne chanted something and passed her hand over the injury which had started pouring out blood again in objection to the alcohol. It was strange, really, as I'd never seen much magical healing up close - I felt my arm heat, and start to itch, and then the skin slowly came together, looking like a slow motion rewind of the injury itself. When she was done, Leliana poured water over my arm, and I saw a very slight, pale scar running across my forearm, the only memento I would have of the injury. I smiled around at everyone in gratitude, and promptly passed out.

 I woke only a few moments later, head cradled in Aedan's lap, while everyone else looted corpses or dragged them into a pile to be torched later.

 "There you are, Sierra. I thought you might disappear on us for a minute."

 "I sort of thought I had, actually." I coughed, and Aedan helped me sit then handed me a water skin. The water was blissfully cool and refreshing. "I fainted?"

 "It's quite common when healed with magic. Especially the first few times."

 "That's embarrassing. They don't mention that in the g...uh, performance."

 "Yeah it strikes me as the sort of detail that doesn't sit well with audiences. How are you feeling now?"

 "Fine, actually." My stomach growled loudly, and I blushed. "Hungry, apparently."

 Aedan laughed. "Also normal. The energy has to come from somewhere."

 "I wish it could have waited until we were somewhere that smelled better!"

 Aedan fished through a nearby pack and produced a hunk of dry bread and some cheese. I stuffed it into my mouth, completely ignoring my own objection to eating in the middle of the carnage. Alistair passed by lugging a hurlock corpse and gave me the most ridiculously pathetic look. I couldn't stand the puppy eyes, and finally offered him the last bite of my cheese. He smiled beatifically, then continued lugging the corpse.

 I looked away, muttering, and heard Aedan laugh at my pink cheeks.

 "It's not fair!"

 "What's not, dear sister?"

 "No one should look that gorgeous while covered in darkspawn blood."

 "I'll give you he's got a nice smile." He grinned at me and I giggled. If I'd needed any confirmation what gender Aedan preferred in a sexual partner, the once-over he gave Alistair from behind clinched it for me.

 I leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "More than his smile is nice, believe me."

 "They covered that in the performance?"

 "Uh, well...sort of, actually, but that's not what I meant. I saw him. Bathing."

 "Ah, that explains your severe embarrassment that day at the stream."

 "Yeah, well, if you had accidentally wandered in on that, you'd have been a little embarrassed too."

 "Rippling muscles with water streaming off them?"

 "Mouth-wateringly so, yes." We both giggled some more, until we heard Morrigan shout.

 "If the two of you can giggle together, then obviously Sierra has recovered. Should we not continue?"

 I heaved myself up, now short one bracer, and recovered my daggers. We regrouped and headed to where I though Shale would be standing. She was much, much larger than I would have predicted based on the game. She was a head taller than Sten, and wider across the shoulders than Alistair in full plate. I couldn't tell if she had any enhancement crystals on her, which I supposed meant she didn't. Aedan stepped up to her, and holding the control rod, muttered the real activation phrase - "Dulen Harn". For a second, nothing happened, and then there was a groaning, trembling sound as rock ground against more rock and Shale slowly animated.

 I left Aedan to have the conversation with Shale - she needed to decide to accompany him on her own, and I wasn't likely to improve that. Once she decided to join us, we were all introduced. I suppressed my giggles at everyone's reactions to her calling them 'it'. I briefly wondered what my nickname would end up as - the ones I could think of for the other party members were not exactly complementary. Elder Mage, Swamp Witch, Drunken Dwarf, Painted Elf... _this ought to be good._

 Finally convinced, we were able to have her accompany us into Wilhelm's basement to rescue the rest of the townsfolk and the poor little girl with the demon. I managed not to get myself stabbed accidentally, we freed everyone, and the demon bitch was dead. By the time we returned Amalia to her family, I was completely exhausted. We had decided not to camp within Honnleath in case more darkspawn showed up, but I wasn't certain I'd be able to make it very far. In the end, as we walked and I began to flag, Sten offered to throw me over his shoulder, which Aedan loudly refused, while Wynne suggested that I ride Shale, to which the golem vehemently objected. I sank to the ground while they argued, too exhausted to care, and Alistair walked over, politely asked Sten to hold our packs, and picked me up. I would have refused, if I'd had enough energy; as it was, I fell asleep cradled in his arms.

 He woke me, briefly, once we finally made camp, to encourage me to eat again, and I could barely even remember stuffing my mouth before falling asleep again where I sat. When I woke, it was morning, and I wasn't the only curled up body - I guessed no one wanted to bother putting up tents, and since it was a cloudless night, we all just slept huddled in blankets. I sat up, quietly so as not to disturb anyone else, and nearly jumped out of my skin as I turned the other way and found Alistair, on watch, sitting two feet away and staring at me.

 "Gah! Don't scare me like that."

 His face remained serious. "No, Sierra, you scared us yesterday. Don't. Do that. Again." Without another word, or giving me a chance to respond, he rose, silently, and walked away, leaving me with my mouth agape. _What the hell?_

 He started shouting, waking the rest of the group, and soon everyone was blearily downing a breakfast of dry bread and some sort of jerky. I'd discovered that if I didn't know what the jerky was made from, I didn't feel like throwing up. My group had responded positively to my 'don't ask, don't tell' policy, though I don't think any of them had the slightest clue why. _I'm a wussy modern city girl. So sue me._ I felt back to normal after having a good rest, although I was mortified at having been carried by Alistair. He claimed I was light, so it wasn't a problem, and I knew he was incredibly strong, but...I had no other word for it than 'mortified'.

 We made good time and reached Bodahn mid-morning, then turned north along the Imperial highway. Assuming the map to be close to accurate, we had another week of travel to reach the turn-off to Haven. Alistair stored my pack for me on Bodahn's wagon, reminding me yet again how embarrassed I was to be so...feeble.

 Which is exactly the nickname that Shale had taken to using for me - the 'feeble human'. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, but it didn't endear her to me any. Although the endless tirades about pigeons were somewhat amusing, at least at first, and I knew most of what she said was bluster, she was annoying. I liked Morrigan more, which was both frightening and funny. Shale and Sten seemed to get along famously, though, which didn't surprise me in the least. So far, no one had told Shale about my foreknowledge thing, and I knew it would have to come eventually, but I didn't look forward to prolonged private conversations with her.

 As it was, the subject was introduced the hard way - I was walking along, tired but managing, and became suddenly dizzy. She was staring right at me as I disappeared.


	23. Murphy's Law

#  Chapter Twenty-Three: Murphy’s Law

 I woke up back in the ICU, sandwiched between beds of patients with every tube imaginable in them. When I did my personal inventory this time, I found a few more tubes than I normally had to contend with. I had an IV, but it exited from just below my collarbone, instead of from a hand or arm as usual. I couldn't see it, but there were a lot more attachments on it too. I sat up carefully and noticed a catheter - the bag was empty - and another IV in my opposite hand. I also had a tube going up my nose, which constantly made me feel like I needed a Kleenex, and seemed also to be making my throat tickle. As I looked around I realised I had a gaggle of monitors, most of which were portable on individual wheeled stands, and very few of which I could comprehend. I was almost afraid to know what had been going on with my body while I was away.

 A nurse bustling by gave a high pitched squeak when she saw me sitting upright, pulling angrily on the tube in my nose. She pushed my hands away, but it was too late - the stupid thing was out, and after a moment of coughing and gagging I felt much better. She confirmed I had been unconscious again for a couple of weeks, but was deliberately vague on any other details. She was definitely antsy, and finally ran off to get the doctor without telling me anything.

 I was contemplating trying to change into my own clothes again, wondering what to do with the tube near my collar bone, when the doctor arrived. He looked ten years older than he had the last time I'd seen him. His smile when he saw me was entirely fake, and it occurred to me that he might be feeling responsible for whatever strangeness my body had been going through the past two weeks.

 He confirmed for me that I'd been out for two weeks, which seemed about right although I'd forgotten to keep track exactly in Ferelden. Apparently I'd been causing some problems, and had managed to destroy a variety of hospital equipment twice since the last time I'd been awake. He didn't phrase it like that, citing electrical surges and power outages, but it had now happened three times, in various parts of the hospital, always to equipment near me. Unfortunately, I'd never been hooked up to an EEG monitor when it happened - I wondered what the pattern would have looked like. The hospital, unable to figure out what was happening, had put me in an isolation ward, where I stayed until the day before.

 I ended up back in the ICU because, out of the blue, the day before I woke up, blood had started fountaining randomly out of my arm. Apparently my blood pressure had dropped, and I lost more than a litre of blood onto the floor, but when they finally got to examining me, could find no source for the bleeding. Worried that it would happen again, they put me back in the ICU with all the monitors and the new IV - apparently called a 'central line'. The line could allow someone to monitor my blood pressure at the same time as giving medications or fluid or whatever, and could stay in place for a long time, instead of needing to be changed every few days like the one in my hand.

 The tube in my nose was apparently a source of contention. Some other doctor who'd been called in to help out when I started bleeding everywhere found out that I'd been in a 'coma' for two weeks without being fed and had a fit, forcing the issue and getting hospital administration involved, until finally the tube was inserted to provide me with food until I woke. My doctor felt it was unnecessary, because like before, I had lost only a tiny amount of weight, hadn't needed to pee, and wasn't showing any sign of malnourishment. Even after all the bleeding, the lab could find nothing abnormal in my blood. I wondered why I was still hungry in Ferelden while I was being fed at home. _Maybe healing means I needed more food than usual?_

 I showed him the new scar on my forearm, explaining that I had been injured in my dream. I didn't tell him about the templar thing, but implied that I was aware the monitor outages were probably my fault, claiming a long-standing "anti-technology" issue that broke computers and watches all the time. Knowing I might not have long before blacking out again, we decided quickly for me to do the paperwork refusing tube feeds and other procedures unless my lab work said that I was becoming malnourished, or otherwise ill. I asked about removing the central line, but he convinced me to leave it, and just detach all the tubes feeding into it, so that I wouldn't need another if the problem happened again. I also signed paperwork refusing a catheter. Worst case scenario, they'd have to deal with me in adult diapers, but I was getting sick of tubes going into and coming out of my bladder. I told him I thought he should keep me out of the ICU unless I was actually dying. He agreed, though wasn't sure how enforceable that would be if I started spewing blood everywhere again.

 Once that was done, I begged leave to take a shower, and he agreed to ask the nurses to arrange that once I'd been transferred to a different room, yet again. He encouraged me to see the lawyer as soon as possible assuming I stayed awake long enough, and was getting ready to leave as the world swam and I collapsed down onto the bed.

 "No! Not dressed like this!" My last view was of my nearly naked body, wearing only a tiny hospital gown, and the kind doctor's face, frowning in consternation.

 ********

 I woke up in Thedas, somewhere. I was barefoot, and wearing a skimpy, short hospital gown. My ass was hanging out in the breeze. _Wonderful_. It occurred to me, for possibly the first time, that there was no guarantee I'd be somewhere useful. I'd been lucky so far, always ending up close to where I wanted to be, but I could be anywhere, really. _In a hospital gown. Good God_. I was surrounded by fields of mostly thick grasses, no signs of habitation anywhere. I couldn't decide if that made me more or less likely to be raped until I found some clothes and figured out where I was.

 I tied the gown at the back as best as I was able, then tried to decide what to do. There were some larger trees a few hundred yards away, and I decided to head towards them - maybe I could find myself a stick as a weapon, and at least find some cover so I'd be less likely to be discovered by anyone. I picked my way across the field, very conscious of my lack of shoes. I couldn't afford a foot injury, so being careful meant it took me a lot longer to reach the trees. It was a small stand of trees, not a forest, but I found a decent branch that I thought would work as a walking stick and a basic staff if necessary. Still not seeing anything else useful, my next thought was to climb a tree and see if I could figure out where I was from a higher elevation. One of the trees near me was a huge, old, gnarled thing, and was tall enough to be useful. It had several smaller trees leaning against it or standing near it, which gave me additional hand and footholds.

 At home, I'd always been overweight, no matter how hard I tried, but despite that I was quite adept at tree climbing as a child. In this body, it was a simple matter to haul myself up into the lower branches and scramble up the massive trunk. When I was maybe twenty feet up, I cleared the tops of most of the other trees around, and was able to get a bit of a look - more fields, more trees. I went a little higher, and suddenly realised that in the distance, there was a rather regular break in the monotony that continued as far as I could see in both directions. A roadway? The closest point to me was maybe a couple of kilometres, far enough to be annoying but near enough to walk. Lacking any other noticeable landmarks, I looked down to choose trees to help me navigate once I hit the ground.

 Unfortunately, while climbing the tree enabled me to look around, apparently it had also highlighted me as well. While searching for ways to know which direction to head, I noticed movement off towards the road. Over a few moments it came closer until it became obvious that it was a group of people, headed in my direction. They weren't anyone I knew, and they were coming fast. I debated climbing down to retrieve my stick, but decided that staying in the tree gave me better protection in case those approaching didn't have my best interests at heart.

 My hopes for a dashing rescue came crashing down as I got a close up view of those that had surrounded the base of the tree. There were perhaps ten of them, all men, most looking decidedly unsavoury. They were all armoured, though their gear appeared to be piecemeal, none of it matching. They approached the base of the tree I clung to.

 "What have we here, boys? Looks like we treed ourselves some entertainment for later. A gift, if you will, and look - we barely even need to unwrap it!" The group of them laughed, and I sighed. _Nice going, Sierra, jinx yourself by wondering about being raped._

 "Come on down, missy! We won't hurt you none. We was just wanting to get to know you a little!" There was a general chorus of agreement, mixed in with a variety of catcalls. _Apparently chauvinist pigs say the same things in any world._ I wondered how long I had before one or more tried coming up after me.

 "I think I'll just stay up here, if it's all the same to you." There were some jeers, and I could see the atmosphere of the men below get nastier. They pulled into a circle, whispering amongst themselves, clearly trying to come up with a plan.

 I started looking up, evaluating the branches above my head. There were some...an idea started to form. I climbed a little ways down, holding on above myself, which put me into a fairly provocative pose. I ignored the flush of embarrassment, and lifted one leg, dropping it back down onto the branch I stood on. From below, I heard some more catcalls, as one or two of the men noticed and somehow seemed to think I was giving them a show. I was fine with that interpretation as long as it kept them down there a while longer. I stomped down again, heard a soft crack, and felt my weight shift subtly. I used my arms and swung up onto the next highest branch, giving the rabble below a glimpse of forbidden territory. I repeated the same 'dance', until that branch also started to crack. Again and again I did the same thing, climbing higher with each step, until I was a good fifteen feet higher than where I'd started. The show was losing its appeal due to repetition, but as yet none of them had caught on to my true intent.

 Finally dissatisfied, and having no luck convincing me to come down, the group elected one of their members to try to come up. He was a balding, ugly, mean looking man, but he appeared to be in good shape and I didn't think he'd have any more trouble climbing than I did. Fortunately for me, he looked a great deal taller and generally larger than I was, and I just had to hope I'd done enough. I shimmied a little further up the tree, now clinging to the trunk and distributing my weight across multiple smaller branches. I watched Baldy's progress with trepidation as he reached the lowest branches that I had 'danced' on.

 He reached up to grab the branch, and it broke off in his hand, like I'd hoped. He swore, swinging wildly, and almost fell. Finally righting himself, he inched around the tree to try again. The next branch held as he grabbed it, but when he tried to shift his entire weight onto it, it also released, breaking off right at the join to the trunk. He became more cautious after his second near-miss, and found each branch he could reach similarly weakened. I actually grinned in relief that my plan had worked, and he caught the expression. He started swearing at me, then called down to his friends.

 "This bitch weakened the branches! I can't climb any further." He tried a couple more times to scale the trunk directly, but had no luck. Finally he climbed back down to regroup. I stayed put, although I did break off one nearby long branch, which wasn't strong enough to hold me, but I hoped would work as a club if a needed it. I waited.

 They elected another guy to try to climb, and I saw that he had some sort of rope over his shoulder as he came. I didn't think he'd be capable of throwing the rope over a reliable branch, but readied my makeshift club just in case. As he slowly climbed, I looked out over the horizon again, hoping for something I could use, someone who might aid me. That was when I noticed a small bird, circling high overhead. It seemed like too much to ask, but I had to try.

 "Morrigan!" I screamed as loud as I could managed, startling the men below. "Morrigan, is that you? Help!" I was rewarded by seeing the distant creature circle lower towards me. I cried out in relief as a familiar black bird finally landed in a tree nearby. "Hey, any way you could help? I'm sort of stuck up here now that I've broken the branches. I don't suppose you have a bigger form that flies, like Flemeth? Carry me out of here?" The bird chattered, and tilted its head curiously. "I'll take that as a no. Where are the others? Could you get them?" The bird made another noise and took off.

 My conversation was noted by the men below, but if anything they seemed to find it funny. Personally, understanding Ferelden even as poorly as I did, I would have been wary of someone talking to an unnaturally large bird. _I'd guess no one ever accused these guys of being the sharpest knives in the drawer._ I returned my attention to the man who had finally reached the bare portion of the tree, where the branches had broken. My assumption that he would attempt to use the rope to throw over a branch was apparently misplaced, and instead he passed it around the trunk of the tree, grasping both ends while pushing against the tree with his booted feet. _Crap, he's seen Mulan? Damn you Disney!_

 He was able to slowly creep up the bare tree trunk, having to pause every couple of steps to jerk the rope up. I prayed for a while that the rope would fray or break, but it didn't seem likely. His progress was very, very slow, but there was no mistaking that it was progress. I realised that I was going to have to resort to actively trying to knock the guy out of the tree, a fall that would likely kill him if I was successful. The thought of actually killing a person made me queasy - it was one thing to kill darkspawn and demons and abominations, entirely another to murder a human. I tried convincing myself that self-defense wasn't murder, but I didn't totally believe myself. Kill or be killed was not the culture I was raised in!

 I decided to try to deter him instead. I carefully slid down a couple of branches, and then using my club, reached down further to bonk him on the head, firmly but not viciously.

 "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you make me. I have friends on the way who won't take kindly to this, and they have no such qualms about killing would-be rapists. Why don't you just climb back down, take your friends, and go?"

 "Stupid bitch. If you had friends coming, we'd know about it. There's nobody around for miles. You might as well give it up - we will have our fun, one way or t'other, and if you stop fighting, you'll probably survive."

 Pissed off, and worried by his certainty that no one was near, I bashed him with my stick again. Unfortunately for him, his face was tilted up to look at me, and so I got him square in the nose. He swore again as blood poured down his face, and I heard more angry grumbles from below. I wasn't sure I could stomach purposefully hitting him in the face anymore, so I switched to attacking his hands, hoping if I harried him enough he'd give up. I reached down, swatting at his hands, the rough broken end of the stick scratching and cutting his exposed skin, and he swore some more.

 "What, did you really expect me to just give up? You're not that smooth a talker, friend."

 I continued to jab at his hands, and at one point managed to snag the rope, dropping him a sudden couple of feet before he regained his grip. Stubbornly trying again, he climbed back into reach. Seeing that the superficial injuries I was able to inflict on his hands weren't enough, I switched back to attacking his head. He was smarter this time and didn't look up, but I got a good couple of smacks in that must have left him reeling.

 Just then I heard shouting, and looked down to see the men below pointing. They all started grabbing for weapons, when finally I saw movement through the copse of trees. I was blinded by sunlight glinting off a shield, heard a familiar battle cry, and suddenly Alistair was charging at the group of men. Aedan might have tried to talk them down, but Alistair got there first. He rammed into the front line, shield first, literally bashing a couple of men across the clearing to crumple on the ground. They didn't get up. The rest of my friends entered the fray, and it took mere seconds before all of my would-be attackers threw down their weapons begging for mercy.

 The man halfway up the tree watched in dismay at this turn of events, but was distracted suddenly by a large, black bird diving at his face. With his hands occupied, Morrigan got in a couple of good pecks as he screamed. Losing his ability to reason entirely, he finally let go of the rope to protect his face. I shrieked as he fell, looking away before he hit the ground. The squishy sounding thud as he landed was something I thought would stay with me for a long time. Trying not to cry, I clung to the tree and scrunched my eyes shut. Morrigan landed nearby, chirping at me curiously.

 "Sierra? Are you okay?" Aedan called up from below.

 "Uh, yeah. I suppose I am. I think I'm probably stuck up here, though."

 Aedan’s voice sounded vaguely amused. "Andraste's Ass, girl, what are you wearing? And why in the Maker's name are you in a tree?"

 I sighed. "Look. If you could all just turn away, and perhaps Morrigan could bring me up a length of rope? I'll climb down and tell you everything."

 Looking down, I saw most of my friends looking up at me with concern, with the exception of Alistair who had his back to me. His neck was purple, and I guessed his face would be too; I wondered how much he’d seen before he looked away, and then I was blushing more too.

 "Uh...the rope is back in the cart. Hang on, let's see if these louts have got any they'd like to donate as a sign of good faith."

 There was some cursing, and Alistair punched someone, but shortly another nice long bit of rope was found. Aedan shrugged off his cloak to leave on the ground at the foot of the tree, and then they herded the captives away from the tree and across the clearing, forcing them to look away at the point of a blade. Satisfied that I wasn't going to be spied upon, I asked Morrigan politely to bring me up the rope, and she flew down, grabbed one end in her claws, and dropped it into my waiting hand. I quickly tied it around myself, improvising a rough harness, then looped it over a couple of sturdy branches. Grabbing the other end, I slowly belayed myself down the bare section of tree trunk, then climbed down the rest of the way once I reached branches again.

 Resolutely avoiding looking at the broken body that had fallen from the tree, I wrapped Aedan's cloak around myself and then called to the others. Morrigan changed shape, and stood beside me; I pulled her into a fierce hug. Thanking her profusely, I blinked away the tears that threatened to spill. Aedan, Alistair, Wynne, and Leliana walked up, leaving Sten guarding the captives. I wanted to hug each of them, but was mortified at my state of undress and so I refrained.

 Aedan quirked an eyebrow at me, glancing at where his cloak covered my near-nakedness.

 "Yeah, yeah. I will explain. At home...well, I've told you they're keeping my body in a building where the doc...healers can look after it? This is what they make people wear in those places, so that the clothing isn't in the way if they need to heal something, and so they don't ruin anyone's clothes by getting blood or whatever on them."

 "So why have you never worn it here before?"

 "Well, I bring over whatever I'm wearing when I pass out. Usually I have time to get changed into clothes, but I was gone such a short time this time that I didn't." I left out about the problems they were having with me randomly bleeding and such. They already thought I was feeble, I didn't want to enhance that opinion.

 "That still doesn't explain what you were doing in that tree."

 "Well, I popped in way over there," I pointed in the direction I'd come, "and I had no idea where in Thedas I was. I hoped I'd be near you all but couldn't be sure, and didn't know which way to go. So I climbed the tree to try to get a look around, and that's when they found me. And then, with a bunch of would-be rapists on the ground, I figured I was safer up there. I can't tell you how glad I am that Morrigan found me though! Even if I'd been able to keep them away, I wouldn't have been able to get out of that tree."

 "Clever trick, by the way, destroying the branches."

 "I decided stranded but alive was better than raped and murdered on the ground. Now...where are my clothes?"

 "On the cart. Back on the road. We will have to walk there, sorry. When Morrigan came to get us, we didn't exactly think we'd find you naked!"

 "Oh, dammit, now I don't have any boots either."

 Aedan took my hand and let me over to the captives. "Shoes off, all of you."

 He grinned at me and I laughed, having some idea what he was about. Nine men stripped their footwear off. They were all passed over to me, and I picked through, finding one sturdy pair of boots close enough to my size for now. Aedan gathered the rest of the boots into a pile, and then turned to Morrigan. "If you would, my lady?"

 The fireball she threw could have lit the night sky, had it been dark out. Which was the point - it scared the pants off the nine captives standing there.

 "We don't have time to deal with you, nor the inclination. My only recourse to you trying to rape Lady Sierra would be to execute you, but the lady has a soft heart and has chosen to spare you. You all owe her your lives. Instead, you will be left without weapons or shoes, to find your own way back home. And if I ever hear of you all resuming banditry or trying to rape someone else, next time I'll ask my friend here to incinerate you with the fireball instead of your boots. Is that clear?"

 He had them all lie face down in the dirt, telling them to count to a hundred, slowly, before standing up. He made sure they saw Morrigan change shape again so they knew they could be watched, and then we all walked away. I carried the boots, not wanting to put my feet in them without socks, and was again carefully picking my way across the fields. Alistair put up with that for all of ten minutes before taking off his own cloak, wrapping it around me like a blanket, and scooping me up again. I shrieked.

 "Put me down!"

 "And let you hurt your feet? No."

 "I'm quite capable of walking barefoot, thanks."

 "If we feel like waiting all day, I'm sure you are."

 "Alistair, so help me, put me down right now!"

 "Would you rather I let Sten carry you over his shoulder? Because I will, Sierra. Don't tempt me."

 "Shut up. Bastard."

 Aedan piped up. "At least you finally used the word correctly."

 I sulked, completely aggravated. If I'd had something to throw, I would have thrown it at Aedan. Instead, I settled down, refusing to look at either of the men, secretly enjoying feeling safe in Alistair's arms. _Maybe being feeble has an upside, because it's the closest I'm going to come to...inappropriate, Sierra!_

 We made it back to the road, Alistair carrying me for an hour or so. He seemed unbothered by it, not even rubbing his arms as he put me down, and his pace had increased, if anything, while carrying me. _Ridiculous. I swear he's made of harder stone than Shale._


	24. My Favourite Assassin

#  Chapter Twenty-Four: My Favourite Assassin

 Upon reaching Bodahn, I quickly changed into my armour, and once I put on socks, slipped my feet into the boots we had ...liberated. Then, as usual, we walked. Everyone had apparently explained to Shale who I was, and she seemed completely disinterested. She wasn't much for fast running, so she'd stayed with Bodahn when the rest came to my rescue. She barely acknowledged me once we'd returned, and it pissed me off – I thought she’d be at least curious, and I seemed to be taking it personally for some reason. Resolving to try to befriend her one more time, I decided to walk with her, whether she wished it or not, and tell her about Caridin.

 I stepped in beside her, and we walked quietly for a few minutes. I tried to figure out what to say, but was having trouble. I decided to just jump in.

 "Shale?"

 "Does the feeble human want something from me? Perhaps it wishes a ride?"

 "I would never! That wasn't my idea. I would never expect you to give me a ride, Shale."

 "It does not seem to object when the whiny Grey Warden gives it a ride." I had to think about that for a moment, and choked out an embarrassed laugh at the unintended dirty mental image she conjured.

 "Al...Alistair? That's, uh...that wasn't my idea either. He offered. It's different if someone offers."

"So you would not ask? But you would accept if I offered?"

 "Only if there was a reason. Like when we needed to keep moving and I wasn't able. Or when I had no shoes."

 "I see. Perhaps it should try to be less feeble, if it prefers not to be carried?"

 "I'm trying, believe me. I just was never trained like all of them were. Before I came here the most exercise I ever got was running away and hiding from bullies. And foster-parents. And even that was years ago. I'm getting better - when I first came and had to walk, I was exhausted after a few miles."

 "Does it expect a medal for that?"

 "...No. Um, can I talk to you about something else?"

 "Must it?"

 "Okay, listen. You're trying to be unpleasant, and I'm trying not to care. I'm just going to come out and tell you something anyway, and then I won't bother you anymore. I just thought you might want to know where you came from. I know you don't remember much before being in Honnleath."

 "It claims to know my past?"

 "Not all of it, no. But pieces. You don't even know how golems are made. Do you want to?"

 "I am listening."

 "Golems were made by the dwarf Paragon named Caridin.   Several hundred years ago, in the Deep Roads, in a place called Bownammar. They...were made from dwarves. Volunteers, at first, and then conscripts, who Caridin was able to turn into golems using the Anvil of the Void. You were one of the volunteers."

 Shale scoffed. "It must have been misinformed."

 "No, Shale. I've seen it. Been there when you spoke to Caridin. Seen your name on the monument. You were once a dwarf. A woman. Shayle, of House Cadash."

 "If it is going to persist in these sick fantasies, it should at least try to come up with something believable. I suppose it believes that if it knows all these facts, it becomes more important? Perhaps it thinks this will compensate for its feebleness?"

 "You know what? Fine. Just fine. I suppose it was inevitable that someone didn't believe me. But you know what? I didn't ask to be here. I don't want to be important. I'm trying to make the best out of a ridiculous situation, and if you won't do the same, then sod off."

 I was vaguely proud of myself for using Fereldan curse words, and at the same time completely furious with Shale. I supposed I should have expected that I wouldn't get immediate acceptance from everyone, but Shale was never the one I had worried about, given the knowledge I could provide her with. It never occurred to me that she’d just assume I was making it up. I decided to ignore her from then on, and so I skipped ahead, walking next to Leliana for the rest of the day. I taught her some songs as we walked, love songs from my teenage years, mostly. I was still self-conscious about my voice, but she was never anything but encouraging, and finally convinced me. She was enchanted by Vonda Shepard's simple ballad, 'I Know Him By Heart'. I listened to her sing it sweetly over the campfire later, wishing that someday I could see a duet with her and Vonda. _That would be awesome._ I couldn't help blushing, remembering listening to that song and thinking about Alistair while playing the game.

 I resumed my templar practice with Alistair that night. I was getting better at focusing faster, and so he started trying to distract me. He would throw small rocks, make loud noises, or bump me. The first few times he did it I was completely startled, but came to expect it and managed to keep my concentration better. I went to my bedroll, in the tent I shared with Leliana, self-satisfied. And exhausted, not that I'd admit that out loud - at least where Shale could hear me.

 We walked for two more days uneventfully while I taught Leliana more Vonda Shepard songs, finally figuring that we were roughly a week from Haven - four more days on the highway, then three more, assuming the roads were okay. On the third day after my dramatic re-entry, we finally found the ambush I'd been waiting for. As we wandered along the road, a hysterical woman ran up from a side path begging for aid, and then ran off again. We all exchanged glances, and I nodded. Alistair, Shale, and Sten continued walking forward on the road, weapons at the ready. Aedan and Leliana faded into the undergrowth and disappeared, and Morrigan shifted into spider form to approach through the woods as well. Wynne and I followed, a few dozen steps behind our warriors, hoping that not seeing Aedan immediately would delay the tree getting dropped onto our escape route.

 As predicted, the warriors triggered the fight, but what the ambushers did not count on was Leliana putting an arrow into the neck of the mage, and Aedan sneaking up on a couple of the crossbowmen and putting them down before they even got off a shot. Morrigan got one of the other crossbowmen, Alistair bashed Zevran in the face with his shield, and Shale and Sten took out the other fighters around Zevran. Before I could even blink, the elf was unconscious, his 'friends' dead, and the road remained unblocked. _God I love foresight_.

 Aedan quickly tied Zevran up, and everyone else looted corpses. I stayed well back from any blood or gore, concentrating on not throwing up. The battle hadn’t been as loud as I expected, but the scent of blood was making me nauseous, my heart was pounding, and my knees felt like they might give out. I wondered if I would ever get over my aversion to violence against humans. I sort-of hoped not. Seeing me looking pale, Aedan herded me away from the corpses and then had Zevran dragged back over to the road while we all waited for him to wake.

 I stared at the elf curiously. Like Alistair, he was far better looking in person than in the game, even with a swelling cheek and what looked to be the start of an impressive black eye. In the game I'd tried the romance options with Zevran, and knew he was sweet at heart once you got under all of the bluster, but really there was no contest for me. Given the choice between the often crude Antivan elf and the sweet, self-deprecating templar, the templar won every time. Besides, my type had always been tall men. I was guessing, but by appearances, Zevran and I were the same height. I might even be taller than him. I kept forgetting how little elves were in this universe! I did hope Zevran and I could be friends, however. He was hilarious.

 He finally woke up. I stayed out of the conversation as he defended, rather calmly, why he felt Aedan shouldn't execute him on the spot. I nearly laughed out loud when he offered his services for massage and bed-warming. I had seriously thought the game-makers must have been exaggerating. At the end of the conversation, Aedan was convinced, I could tell, but Alistair definitely was not. He shot me a piercing look, which I interpreted to mean 'are you serious?' I nodded firmly, and he finally shrugged and spoke.

 "You are lucky, elf. I myself am not so forgiving, but our lady has decreed that you shall live. I strongly encourage you to thank the Maker that she is here, otherwise you would be little more than a stain on this lovely green grass."

 Aedan glanced at me again to see me hiding my grin at Alistair’s intimidation attempt before offering Zevran the four daggers he'd confiscated. It was useless anyway; knowing Zev, he had six more hidden somewhere Aedan didn't find them. Wynne offered to heal his face, which he accepted with grace, and only a mild comment on her kindness. I half-expected him to start spewing prose about her magical bosom on the spot.

 Aedan offered him a hand to help him up, and just like that we had an assassin on our side. _Go team!_ I wondered if Alistair would ever believe that he was actually a good guy. Watching him glower, I doubted it. Everyone else seemed only slightly uneasy, except for Leliana who, as always, approved of giving someone a second chance. She really was that sweet. I couldn't help but be impressed. When I played the game, I made the decisions about things like that pragmatically - more help was always better, and I doubted BioWare would offer me a companion who would murder me in my sleep. In real life the stakes were a little different, I had to admit. I thanked whoever - God, the Maker - had given me my unusual foresight. Again.

 With my assurances, everyone seemed to accept Zevran’s change of allegiance reasonably well, with the obvious exception of Alistair. The templar watched the assassin uneasily, muttering about not allowing him near the food, and how he wasn’t going to be sitting watch alone, ever. It didn’t surprise me, but it was kind of amusing.

 We followed the road back to the wagon, and continued on towards Haven. I spent my time listening with amusement as Shale aggravated 'the elder mage', 'the sister', and 'the whiny Warden' in turn, thankful it wasn't just me she rubbed the wrong way. She and Sten still got along famously. I think she almost had him convinced we should be actively slaying every bird we came across. I kept hoping Morrigan would poop on her.

 Aedan spent most of the day with Zevran, explaining where we were going and what our mission was. I could see Zev's surprise that Aedan would tell him so much, and wondered if I should interfere before he decided not to respect our fearless leader. Instead I just wandered closer, hoping my presence would trigger a discussion about why Aedan trusted him. I was apprehensive but pleased when Zevran drew me into their conversation.

 "So, my Lady, I have yet to thank you for the gift of my life." Zevran bowed slightly, looking up at me with his eyebrows raised, in what I assume he thought of as an attractive pose. I decided to jump right in.

 "Given why you chose to bid for this contract, Zev, I am surprised that you would thank me for something you were trying to throw away." His eyebrows rose higher, and I had to fight to keep a straight face. I couldn't look at Aedan or I knew I'd laugh.

 "I...you have me at a disadvantage, my lady. I don't know of what you speak."

 "Oh, Zevran, I know all your secrets, ‘amico mio’. Do not play coy with me. You bid on a contract that no other would touch, because you wished to die. Do you want me to tell everyone why? About your last contract with the Crows?"

 Zevran stared at me, mouth open, his face paler than I would have believed possible. _Apparently in Ferelden all natural blonds aren't pasty. I still don't understand that. Maybe it's an elf thing?_ I allowed myself a smirk, which appeared to unnerve him further.

 "I would rather you didn't, my lady." The humble tone was so odd for the Antivan. "I suppose, in answer to your question, all I can say is that when my death was upon me, I discovered that perhaps I enjoy my life more than I might have expected."

 I nodded. "Good. Then all you need to do is keep in mind that your continued enjoyment is dependent on keeping these people," I gestured to our little group, "alive. Because we both know that this group is the only one who can keep you out of the Crows' hands. As you will discover when we end up in Denerim and run into your friend Taliesen. ‘Capiche’?"

 I didn't wait for his reply before stalking off to talk to Leliana. I knew Aedan would be able to capitalise on what I'd started, and keep Zevran just off balance enough to gain the proper respect required. Aedan followed me for a moment, leaning in to whisper before returning to Zev's side.

 "You're sleeping in my tent from now on, sister dear." I laughed and agreed.

 On joining Leliana, she started the conversation.

 "So...Zevran."

 "Hey Leli. Yes, Zevran. Ask away, I know you're dying to."

 "He's rather...different." I was expecting a question on my intentions with him, like she'd asked me about Duncan and Aedan.

 "Yep. But good with his hands." I snickered at her shocked expression, and pulled out my own dagger to demonstrate. "With knives, Leli. You're so easy!" I howled, and her laughter pealed out too.

 "The reason I wanted to talk to you, though was...would you mind, terribly much, sharing a tent with Wynne for a while?"

 "You don't wish to share with me anymore?" I could see a pout forming. I knew her too well to believe that for a minute.

 "Nice try, drama queen. It's got nothing to do with that. It's just that we don't have an extra tent for Zevran. And I really don't think anyone should be sharing with him, shameless flirt that he is. But if you shared with Wynne, I could bunk with Aedan, and Wynne's tent could become Zevran's. Just until we can buy another tent."

 I could see her considering other arrangements and discarding them. I knew in this case I was right. I wasn't a business consultant for nothing - I could see the pairings, and this was the only one that would work, even without Aedan's demand. Finally she nodded. "I'll go talk to Wynne."

 At camp that night, Alistair took over setting up the tents, and I asked Aedan if he would spend a bit of time sparring with me before dinner. He agreed, and we both grabbed ourselves a couple of stout sticks to use as daggers. We circled each other, and I was able to keep away from his initial attacks, but it was obvious my counters were clumsy. I reminded myself to try to loosen up, grateful that at least I didn't need to dedicate as much of my attention to the ground beneath my feet as I used to. I managed to surprise him with a throw once, but he changed his tactics and I could never get a grip on him after that.

 Several of our companions stepped up, watching, and between the laughing and the catcalls, tried to offer me advice as Aedan handed me my ass, repetitively. I chuckled even as I lost the rounds, over and over.

 "Yes, Leli. I am trying to move faster, shouting that won't actually make it more likely to happen. Thank you Alistair, I know I should have ducked. You all are not actually helping, you know that right?" By the time supper was ready, I was panting, sweaty, and thoroughly humiliated. No matter how much I learned about fighting, it wasn't enough. I ate, rushed off to clean up in the little stream nearby, and then joined Alistair for my usual templar training. This time he surprised me - he allowed me to get my focus, but instead of trying to distract me himself, he had obviously arranged for others to do it. Shale stamped the ground, an earthquake rattling under me. Sten let out an obnoxiously loud battle roar in Qunari. Leliana insisted on braiding my hair. I found myself wondering who would be bothering me next, rather than concentrating, and ended up humiliated yet again.

 Finally admitting defeat, I raised my hands. "I cry uncle."

 Alistair looked at me, puzzled. "Uncle?"

 I laughed. "A saying from home. If you were losing a game, or say got pinned while wrestling, the other person would make you 'cry uncle' before accepting your surrender."

 "Is that like 'not the face'?" I chortled, never expecting to hear those words from Alistair's lips.

 "Not exactly. But, uh, yeah. I surrender. I'm far too useless this evening for any more training. Can we try again tomorrow?"

 "Of course." His smile turned into a frown mixed with a glower, and I suddenly knew who had approached me from behind while we talked. I tried to give him a reassuring smile, and was rewarded with a skeptical snort. Zevran hovered, so I gave Alistair a 'be nice' look, and turned my attention to the assassin standing beside me.

 "May we talk?" I nodded at Alistair, who grimaced again and slowly walked away.

 "What can I do for you, Zevran?"

 "Our Grey Warden has explained to me how you know so much about me. This...performance? ...of yours. I find myself intrigued. He tells me that you knew about the ambush I set up. And it would seem you know some things about me, as well."

 I nodded. "In the performance...eventually, you befriended Aedan and told him the truth."

 Zevran scoffed. "I do not have friends."

 I smiled softly. "Never? What about Taliesen? Rinna? You cannot claim never to have cared about anyone. Your life has been terrible, Zev, and not even those few you've cared about have been really good friends, but...you are capable of respect. Trust. Love, even. I know it, even if you don't. You wear sex and assassination as a mask, trying to protect what's inside. It won't be easy for you to believe, on day one, but you will come to care for these people, and they for you. And you will learn who you really are, not who the Crows forced you to be."

 Zevran stared at me for a few minutes, looking truly disconcerted. That was an expression I'm sure no one else had ever seen on that handsome face. In the game, he was unruffle-able. He was all calm pragmatism and mercenary decision-making.   Messing with him was going to be kind of fun, I decided, although I thought I might wait until he was a little bit more comfortable. I was fairly certain his sex jokes weren't going to exasperate me the way they did everyone else - they were actually pretty tame in my world, even more so after being raised in foster care. I wondered how he would take to someone who could give as well as she got.

 I took pity on him, finally. "It's okay, Zev. You don't have to believe me right now. Just carry on and let things happen as they will. But I know a little bit about being raised without the ability to trust. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here." I stood up, patted him on the shoulder, and walked away to find Aedan's tent. I pointed to Wynne's old one, letting Zevran know that he could sleep there, and then found my goal. I tried to ignore the looks I got from Wynne, Alistair, and Zevran as I crawled in to finally go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally caught up with the other sites. Future chapters should get posted Sunday evenings, usually.


	25. Deals and Dragons

#  Chapter Twenty-Five: Deals and Dragons

 That became the new pattern for us for a couple of days. Walk until almost supper, spar with Aedan – badly – and then work on meditation with Alistair. I'd gotten to the point where, when necessary, I could ignore the movements, shouts, pokes, and tickles of those around me, and maintain my focus regardless. One evening, still sitting with my eyes closed, but having decided I was done for the night, I suddenly could feel eyes on me. I waited, listening and feeling, trying to determine if it was hostile or not. Near me I could hear only Alistair's soft breathing as he too meditated; further away I could hear talking and laughing, and was able to account for the whereabouts of Wynne, Leliana, Sten, Shale, Aedan, Prince, and Morrigan. Zevran then. I tensed, suddenly vaguely worried that while the assassin would develop respect and friendship with the rest of the group, that he saw me as a threat. I heard the softest whisper of leather sliding against leather behind me, and realised he was closer than I thought.

 I broke the silence. "Hey, Zev. How's it going?" I heard Alistair jump and curse, and opened my eyes, turning to see Zev standing less than two feet away. His hands were empty, though I knew that meant nothing, but the expression on his face was mischievous, not malicious, and I relaxed. "Let me guess. You were going to help me learn to focus by blowing in my ear or something as a distraction."

 The redness in his cheeks demonstrated the truth to my guess, and I grinned. Alistair grumbled and walked away towards our firepit.

 "Well, bella donna, I am glad to see that with all this...focusing...you are doing, you still pay attention to your surroundings. I am here to watch everyone's backs, but it will make it that much easier if you are also watching your own."

 "Thanks Zev," I replied drily. "I'm so relieved to hear about your concern for my safety."

 "You wound me, cara mia. And here you told Aedan that you trust me."

 "Just because I trust you, amico mio, does not mean I stop 'paying attention'." He smiled proudly. "And by the way, you can quit with the Antivan endearments. I don't speak Antivan other than the bits you taught me, but I'm familiar with your seductive side, sweet pea. Save that for someone who doesn't know you better than you know yourself. And Wynne, because secretly she likes it."

 "My heart cannot take it, my lady. It bleeds for-"

 "Can it Zev. Hey, wait. I'll make you a deal."

 "Oh? Now this I must hear."

 "How's this. You agree not to try to seduce me, flatter me needlessly, or in any other fashion try to wiggle your way into my small clothes, for...let's say one month. Get to know me, a little, without innuendo thrown in. At the end of that time, if you still wish to lay with me, you tell me and I will explain why I don't think we should ever be together. After that I promise to be open-minded and give you a fair chance to change my mind. But if you break this agreement, if you try to charm your way into my tent before then, the deal's off. I will never sleep with you, nor will I tell you why. Do we have a deal?"

 He thought for a moment. "One stipulation: if you come to me during that month, the deal still stands."

 "Agreed." We actually shook hands, solemnly, and the odd look on his face cracked me up. It seemed he didn't know what to talk to me about without sexual innuendo as an icebreaker. I giggled and left him there, sitting down near Aedan by the fire.

 In our tent, later, Aedan whispered conspiratorially. "What was that tonight with Zevran?"

 I told him our agreement, and Aedan peered closely at the smug grin on my face.

 "You wouldn't be planning to mess with the emotions of one of our companions, would you, sweet sister? I know damn well you'll never change your mind, and I know why. Why the tease?"

 "I'm not messing with him. Not detrimentally, at least, I promise. Actually, I'm hoping it will prevent any weirdness later. Zev is equal opportunity when it comes to the gender of his lovers, but he has that typical male weakness for damsels in distress. I'm trying to make sure he doesn't see me as a damsel. I'm hoping that a month of not thinking about me and sex in the same sentence means he'll become your problem, or Morrigan’s or Leli’s. Not mine." Aedan laughed, but I saw something dark pass over his eyes as he considered Zev being his problem. I reached out and squeezed his hand.

 "You're thinking of Rory." He hesitated briefly, then nodded miserably. "It's maybe too soon, honey, but...eventually, you need to consider letting yourself off the hook for that, Aedan. He gave his life to protect you, so you could live, not be a broken shell who never loves again. He would not want you to be alone forever, to live your life lonely. Don't make a farce of his sacrifice."

 Unable to speak, he had one tear leaking down his cheek, and I squeezed his hands softly. He gripped my hands with all his strength, nodded, and then curled up on his bedroll. I didn't let go of his hand until it was my turn to stand watch. I kissed his head softly before crawling out of the tent to sit quietly by the fire. Alistair gave me a look I couldn't interpret as I emerged, but simply stumbled off to his own tent to sleep.

 A couple more days of walking put us just outside of Haven, according to Duncan's map. The road we had been following was little more than a dirt game trail, and had gradually become snowier as we approached, and I wondered how the Brother had found it. We decided to call it an early night and camp, rather than wander into Haven just before dark. We spent a bit of time huddled around the fire going over my notes - the layout of the town, the merchant with a dead Redcliffe knight in the back room, the location of the Chantry up the hill, Father Eirik. Then the temple full of insane cultists, ash wraiths, and dragonlings. And then, of course, the High Dragon. Sten admitted to knowing how to skin a drake to obtain scales, and I briefly grinned as I wondered when we'd finally get to meet Wade and Herren.

 Aedan and Alistair wanted to leave me behind at the entrance to the temple with Brother Genitivi, but I was nervous about disappearing and finding myself lost or separated from them. We decided not to decide until we got there. Because of the earlier night, I was able to start sparring with Aedan earlier than normal, though the snow gave me some difficulty. After a few minutes, Zevran stepped up, pausing us for a moment.

 "You do this so you can learn the art, yes?" I nodded. "Would you allow me to offer some suggestions then?" I nodded again, and his posture changed from the arrogant swagger I was used to, to a purely professional one. He stepped up behind me, and I realised he wasn't quite as short as I'd predicted - he was maybe an inch taller than me. His height was perfect for what he was about to do. And I was impressed - he stopped, perhaps half an inch between our bodies, as if waiting for permission to touch me. I rolled my eyes, huffing impatiently. He chuckled and closed the distance, hands reaching out to grasp my forearms, hips against mine.

 "First you need to learn how to move like a dancer. Close your eyes, and feel the movement." I complied, and despite the intimacy of his touch, I was able to immediately feel the difference between how I was holding myself and how he wanted me to. I adjusted, and realised it changed my centre of gravity so I felt more stable on my feet.

 He was almost whispering in my ear, and it must have looked very intimate, though I noted he was careful to stick to the letter of our agreement - he did not use Antivan, did not use endearments, and kept his language completely neutral - while completely violating the spirit of it. His hands caressed my arms more sensuously than they needed to, his hips clung to mine more firmly, which pressed a bulge beneath his leathers into the curve of my ass. I had been expecting this, and chuckled darkly; I ignored his intended temptation, and just tried to learn from him. Even unconsciously, with his mind on a very different prize, I knew his stance and footwork would be without reproach.

 When it seemed he was done teaching, I decided that two could play his game: I 'accidentally' ground my ass into his groin, enough to feel him twitch slightly, at the same time as twisting to thank him, and rubbing my breasts over the inside of his arm. Smirking at his slight intake of breath, I straightened, tossed my pretend daggers into the woodpile, and then took Aedan's arm and walked away. _It's going to take more than demonstrating the existence of a penis to get to me, buddy._ Aedan rolled his eyes at me, and I smirked.

 We ate together, as usual, and I was thankful for the stew we were eating – it was getting cold. Supper times were some of my favourites, sitting around the campfire listening to my companions laugh and tease each other and tell stories, though I noticed Alistair was unusually quiet that night. I didn’t think much of it, distracted by Wynne trying, unsuccessfully, to rid herself of an amorous elf. _I swear I’m going to end up with an aneurysm trying not to laugh when I overhear companion chatter!_

 After supper, Alistair had recruited Wynne for further templar training. He had her casting very small, useless spells, like the balls of fire Tanar had used, and just wanted to see how well I could sense them. We warned Wynne to use the minimum possible mana and snuff the spell if anything happened, asking the rest of the group to try not to startle me. As we'd realised previously, my ability to detect the use of magic in my vicinity was much greater than Alistair's, and we spent some time discussing the differences in what we experienced. I was able to accurately describe Wynne's visualised spells before she actually cast them, but only when she did go ahead and cast it. Apparently just imagining it wasn't enough, there had to be intent. When I described what I could see, Alistair was also able to see it, as though there was a blindfold that I was holding back. It was odd.

 When Alistair had me close my eyes and focus, like he'd been teaching me, I thought I could actually see, in my mind, the flow of mana into the spell. Following that back, I could see it surrounding Wynne, even when she wasn't casting. Once, anyway - I was so surprised I lost my concentration and couldn't get it back, much to the mage's amusement. _Maybe I can learn to be a templar some day!_

 Sleep was elusive for most of us, with the spectres of a crazy cult and a high dragon hanging over us as they did. I spent half the night sitting up at the campfire, and it seemed that so did everyone else in turns.

 Haven turned out to be just as creepy as advertised, and wasn’t even much bigger than in the game. There were very few people about, other than a surly guard who tried to bar us entrance to the town, and seemed quite unimpressed when Aedan just ignored him and we entered anyway. We went to the merchant to ask a few questions, discovered the body, and had to kill the merchant. The smell of death in the little house was overpowering, and I stumbled outside, retching, while the rest of the group searched for supplies. _I really hate being a wuss._ Zevran had followed, curiously, but stayed at a distance while I vomited. I briefly wondered what he thought about my evident weakness, but decided not to ask.

 It occurred to me at some point that I had no idea how much coin we had now, or whether I should keep trying to bring handfuls over when I popped back and forth, and resolved to ask Aedan later. Thinking about other things, especially things which didn’t involve blood or gore, helped and I was able to pull myself together by the time everyone else left the building.

 After they emerged, Leliana showing off some new arrows they had found, we avoided the rest of the townspeople we saw and headed straight for the Chantry. To everyone’s relief, the vast majority of the populace fled when we entered, and we only had to kill a few of the reavers and of course Father Eirik. I still threw up after, or dry heaved anyway, since my stomach was empty, and saw Zevran eyeing me oddly. _Whatever_. Brother Genitivi had been tortured, but was alive, and in mostly okay shape. Wynne cast a couple of spells for healing and rejuvenation, and he was quite energetic after that. He agreed to lead us up the mountain to the temple he had learned about, but instead of one short loading screen, it took half a day of hiking, all uphill, and all cold. Aedan had liberated some warm clothing from the merchant, and between those and my cloak I wasn’t in too bad shape, but I was still wishing earnestly for a warm fire.

 Zevran walked with me as we climbed.

 "Sierra? Are you unwell?"

 "I'm fine, Zev. Why?"

 "You..." he mimed gagging. "I thought perhaps you were suffering an illness."

 "No, no. I'm fine."

 "Perhaps you are with child? Some of the whores where I was raised would become very ill at certain smells..."

 "I'm not pregnant!" I gave the assassin a dirty look. "I just don't like killing. Blood. Violence."

 "You think we were wrong to kill those men?"

 "No, Zev. It was necessary. But necessary doesn't mean it isn't regrettable. Or disgusting. I just wish there was another way."

 "Such as...?" He truly looked confused.

 I sighed. "I just wish it wasn't necessary. That people weren't evil, that everyone could get along."

 "You are...very strange, Sierra."

 "You have no idea, amico mio. None at all."

 It was a little bit warmer once inside the temple, despite the cave-ins and snowdrifts. I was feeling quite freaked out, for some reason, and almost hyperventilated when Aedan again tried to convince me to stay at the entrance with Brother Genitivi. The sheer panic on my face must finally have won, and he agreed to bring me with them. I was happy to promise to stay back when they entered each room; I had no desire to take part in violently ending this cult's existence, no matter how necessary. And I figured there was only so many times I'd be able to throw up before I injured myself... _no, staying back won't be a problem._ Aedan instructed Prince to stay near me and guard me, which he woofed at and moved to stand by me.

 The map of the temple that I carried in my head was nothing like the map from the game, so the group had to basically randomly clear hallways and rooms. I stayed well back, not looking at the gore, and when it couldn't be avoided I rushed through the rooms, climbing over broken furniture, trying to avoid stepping in blood puddles, with held breath and tunnel vision. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but see the odd amputated body part, or meet the unseeing gaze of a corpse. Shale continuously talked about squishing people and enjoying feeling their innards squirt out, I think just to bait me. I'd heard worse on the news back home - discussing it, even understanding it wasn't the problem. The problem was seeing it. Smelling it. Without that, I'd have been fine. So I ignored her, and eventually she quit.

 The place smelled largely like shit, which with a few dozen, cooped-up crazy people wasn’t all that surprising. It didn’t entirely cover the coppery smell of blood from each room they cleared, however, and I was starting to desperately wish for a nose clip or something. I kept forgetting to breathe through my mouth, not that tasting it was much better.

 We found the key to the locked room, and eventually the one that led to the main cultist hideout. The people were as crazy as you might believe wacked out, blood frenzied nut jobs could be, at least from the stuff I could hear them yelling down the hall. Aedan kept trying to talk them down, for which I was grateful, even if none of them ever took him up on it. Finally we reached the area where dragonlings started appearing, and we were back to being surrounded by the little lizards. I kept my daggers out and killed a couple, again watching with disgust as Sten just stomped them with his boots, and Shale started mimicking him. Prince largely chased them around, barking joyfully. _Apparently dragonlings are amusing if you're a mabari._ It was disgusting. The drakes were a new experience - I understood the theory behind breath weapons, but having one aimed at you is very different than the theory. I got burnt a couple of times, miraculously healed by Wynne each time, and came out of it unscathed with the exception of a bit of singed hair. I wondered what the doctors and nurses were making of burns that showed up for only moments then disappeared. I briefly prayed not to end up disappearing to go back home any time soon.

 Sten skinning the drakes actually bothered me less than watching Leli or Aedan skin a rabbit - _apparently, anything with fur is infinitely cuter and therefore more deserving of life_ \- and soon we were the proud owners of six trimmed and cleaned drake scales. A few twisting hallways later and we found ourselves fighting Kolgrim and his pack of extra-nutty lunatics. I huddled in the back, trying to make myself a small target, until it was over. I was still struggling with guilt over my inability to help them, though I managed to keep my concerns to myself. Most of them seemed unbothered by it; Morrigan thought it was ridiculous, but felt since I wasn't much help anyway it didn't matter. Leliana, as usual, tried to shelter me from it and seemed to delight in my innocence. Zevran still looked confused, but refrained from comment. Everyone else just seemed to accept it as another eccentric part of my personality, like not wanting to know what sort of meat the jerky was made up of, and if anything, had seemed irritated by my apologies in the past.

 We tried to creep across the mountaintop past the high dragon, but either the game lied about the ability to bypass that, or it didn't like the smell of someone from Earth, because the moment we went outside it flew down to land and attacked. The beast was majestic, I’d have to give it that. Probably eight feet tall at the shoulder, it was a deep purple on top, with a lighter, more red underbelly, and entirely covered in overlapping scale plates. The wind it stirred as it landed was intense, blowing snow and ice crystals into everyone’s faces, and deafening us.

 Alistair, Sten, and Shale took turns keeping its attention, while Leliana picked shots from a nearby boulder, Wynne healed, Morrigan kept blasting it with ice and something that must have weakened it, and the rogues and Prince darted under legs or over its tail, slashing with daggers and teeth. Its fire breath stank like brimstone, and every time it roared a small avalanche of snow and rocks started from one of the nearby cliffs. The air was frigid, and it seemed to amplify even the softest sounds, which caused echoes to ricochet through the mountain pass.

 Personally, I was so scared, I sank to my knees just outside the door and stared. When the thing finally went down, it was like one of those slow-motion shots from the game - Alistair dropped his shield, leapt up and grabbed a horn at the back of its head, pulling himself up, and then drove his sword with both hands into the soft spot just behind the heavy scales protecting the brain. He tumbled down again, somehow unhurt, landing near me with a grunt.

 Sten went to work again with the skinning, but Alistair, seeing my pale face, rushed over and sat me down, head between my knees, rubbing my back awkwardly with his heavy gauntlets.

 "Sierra?" Aedan approached, dropping to his knees beside me and pulling me into an awkward hug.

 "That was a dragon. A real fucking dragon."

 Aedan chuckled drily. "You were the one who warned us, remember?"

 "Yeah, but...you don't understand. Dragons don't exist. They can't. It's just not...it's not okay for there to be dragons." I was near hysteria, I realised. "I guess I thought they were joking. Exaggerating. Something."

 I could feel Aedan looking around, probably looking for help. No one offered any, and I pulled my shit together with pure willpower. Everyone looked a bit peaked, but I guessed that knowing dragons existed for your whole life made a big difference to your outlook upon encountering one. Morrigan made a few caustic comments about the accuracy of my information, given that I thought the encounter could have been avoided, but I just ignored it.

 "I'm okay. Let's just...let's just go. Get this done." I pushed away from Aedan, stood, and started walking towards the door to the gauntlet. My steps steadied after the first few, and I heard the rustle and clank that meant the rest of the group was following along.

 Despite their enormous size, the doors swung open easily, leading into a huge foyer. The Guardian stood, apparently unmoving for centuries from the dust and debris in the room. I had warned everyone what questions they were going to be asked by the guardian, and as a group we all sort of braced ourselves and approached.

 His question for Aedan led to the obvious conclusion that he regretted leaving his parents behind to die. _Duh_. Wynne admitted she sometimes felt uncertain, had doubts occasionally. _Also duh_. Morrigan refused to answer, Zevran said ‘yes’ before even hearing the entire question, and he largely ignored Prince and Shale. Sten admitted that killing a family in a blind panic for a very stupid reason was, well, stupid. I almost called the Guardian 'Captain Obvious', but managed to stifle the flippant remark. Leliana denied that she was using her visions to get attention. I gave him a dirty look for that - I may not have been very religious on Earth, nevermind in Ferelden, but any idiot could see she believed.

 When he moved on to Alistair, I was expecting a question that would bother him less than game canon would imply, but I was surprised. I guess the Guardian knew about Duncan surviving, because instead his question left me standing with my mouth open in shock.

 "Alistair, former templar, you have learned that your templar abilities are very underdeveloped compared to some, but Sierra's rival the most powerful of templars without having undergone the training and the suffering you did to get yours. Do you resent her abilities? Do you feel angry that you weren't granted those abilities instead?"

 Alistair turned to look at me, and paused thoughtfully before answering.

 "I did, at first. Before I knew her, before I understood. But she has no more choice than I have, and while her abilities are impressive, they are unreliable, uncontrolled. She is no more advanced than I am, we are just different. We have much to teach each other, and I do not resent that. Besides, I don’t know the details, but I get the impression that Sierra has seen her share of suffering."

 I smiled brilliantly at him, and he blushed in return. I held my breath as the Guardian turned to me.

 "Sierra, you live in a place where you have nothing and no one. No one misses you, no one notices that you are gone. No one will care if you die, and no one will come to your funeral. Do you believe that you are, indeed, mentally unstable? Did you dream up this world, these people, and that you are a part of it, just to feel important? To have your life feel like it means something? Are you, in fact, insane?"

 I expected this question, had thought about it at length, and still had no answer to give.

 "I...don't know. I hope not." I closed my eyes, not wanting anyone to see me like that. Feeble I could handle; unsure of my own sanity? _Hell no._ I opened them again in surprise when each of my hands was gripped by another; I looked around and realised I was in a circle of friends, all of whom looked at me with a mixture of affection, sadness, and understanding. Aedan and Leliana held my hands, but Alistair, Wynne, Zevran, and even Morrigan stood around me offering silent emotional support. Sanity or no, this was my family and it was where I wanted to be. I closed my eyes again, offering a silent prayer of thanks to any deity that would listen, and then with a nod, we moved on.


	26. History and Lice

#  Chapter Twenty-Six: History and Lice

 The riddles in the next room posed no serious difficulty, even without me knowing the answers, and when the door swung open to show Bryce Cousland, Aedan let out a shout and took off at a run, Prince at his heels. I held back, giving him some privacy to talk with his father. I looked curiously at him from my vantage - he may not have raised me, but if Aedan was my brother, this man was my father also. He had a kind smile, and those wrinkles around his eyes that make men look distinguished (and women seek Botox). His hair was salt-and-pepper, his body trim and fit for an older guy. Though as I thought about it, older in this universe wasn't necessarily the same as at home - he was probably in his forties or fifties.

 Aedan hugged him, and I looked around briefly to see if everyone was as heartwarmed by it as I was, only to realise I was alone. All of the others had disappeared. There was nowhere they could have hidden, and I’d have heard at least Shale and Alistair as they walked away, so it had to be magic of some sort. I decided to wait until I could discuss it with Aedan before panicking.

 Aedan and Bryce talked for a minute, and I expected Bryce to fade away, but after a bit, Aedan turned and gestured to me to approach. Nervously I walked closer, and saw Bryce's face light up. He pulled me into a tight hug before I could even greet him, and I awkwardly returned it. Releasing me, he brushed my hair out of my face and gently cupped my cheek.

 "Sierra, my daughter. I am so happy to see you! Your mother will be beside herself. I only have a moment, but I want you to know. I am so, so sorry darling. We didn't know what happened, only that when you were born, you were breathing, your heart was beating, but...you weren't there. We took you to healers, seers, midwives and mages; no one knew what was wrong with you. We tried everything, but...you sickened. We didn't want Aedan to live in the shadow of the sister he had lost so we didn't tell anyone. We loved you so much, and missed getting to know you every day.

 "Pup, you must protect your sister." Aedan swore he would, and I grinned at him. "And Sierra - you belong here, my darling. Stop questioning it, and just believe. For me?"

 I felt tears trickling down my face. _He called me daughter_. And with that, I finally allowed myself to hope that maybe this really was where I belonged. "Papa?” I just couldn’t call him dad. Or father. “I will try."

 "I must go. I love you so much, my children. Your mother and I both do. Take care of each other..."

 I almost screamed when he disappeared. I clapped my hands over my mouth, holding it in, and collapsed into Aedan's arms. We clung to each other, and I could tell I wasn't the only one crying. Prince stuck his nose into the first opening he found, and for the first time, I was part of a family.

 The rest of the group slowly approached, all looking shaken to one degree or another, but none of them were as feeble as I was, and the pressure to move on became noticeable. Aedan managed to pull himself together, but I was still a right mess. Aedan pulled out my notebook to check on the next fight rather than disturb me where I sat. Realising we were headed for a nasty one, he again instructed Prince to guard me. When the doors swung open, there we all were, facing ourselves, nine combatants and a weak little girl. I stayed curled on the floor, cuddling Prince with all my might, refusing to watch who took the final blow on my doppelganger. I heard Morrigan curse, Sten grunt, Alistair shout something unintelligible, and it was done. Aedan came over and pulled me to my feet, and I held his arm as he half-dragged, half-carried me past our own corpses. Morrigan was whining about templars, and I guessed that evil-Sierra or evil-Alistair had whammied her. _Oops._

 In the next room, the combination to the puzzle wasn't even close to that from the game, and I was forced to collect myself to help out. Apparently the puzzle knew how many of us there were, as it required all of us working together to open the doors. Or perhaps they only let in groups of ten. _Either way._

 And then, we were in the room, crossed by a massive wall of fire, leading up to an altar. And it occurred to me that somehow I had completely suppressed the realisation that we were all going to have to get _naked. Together._

 It wasn't that I was a prude. I'd seen naked men before, and I wasn't a virgin, but there was just something weird about getting naked with a co-ed group. _I’d make a terrible orgy participant._ And every time I even thought about Alistair naked I ended up in hysterics, or drooling, or both. _This ought to be fun._

 Aedan pragmatically just began shucking armour. Leli, Wynne, Zevran, Sten, and even Morrigan followed suit, looking unconcerned. We had decided to have Shale and Prince remain on this side of the fire, which left just Alistair and I, both looking panicked. I met his eyes just long enough to be suddenly even more embarrassed, and finally had a choice between curling back up on the floor with Prince or getting on with it.

 "Oh for the love of God. I can't believe I'm doing this." I stripped as quickly as I could, and swore to myself that when I looked back up, I wouldn't stare. _Much_.

 Everyone hesitated at the edge of the fire, and finally deciding that if I went first I wouldn't have to see everyone else's expressions (or their nakedness), I stepped through. It sort of…tickled, strangely. The fire didn’t crackle, like a normal fire, and there wasn’t any smoke to speak of. Aedan let out a cry, but I passed through untouched. I kept resolutely looking straight forward until I could hear the rest of them behind me.

 Wynne and Leliana were in raptures over the altar, the statuary, and the urn itself.   Even Aedan and Alistair approached with hushed voices full of awe. I supposed it was rather beautiful, though not being raised religious, and definitely not Andrastian, it didn't hit me quite as hard. Aedan approached the Urn, taking a pinch of the ashes and placing it into a little pouch he carried.

 I briefly wondered if I could convince Aedan and Alistair to use a pinch of the ashes each to cure their Taint, but knew they'd object. I’d tried bringing it up before reaching Haven, and got nothing but dirty looks. But if I was going to attempt to stay in Thedas, to accept that I belonged there, I wasn’t looking forward to losing my brother in thirty years when his Calling came. My suggestion died on my tongue when I caught Aedan’s eye – he obviously guessed what I was going to say, and shook his head once, firmly. I sighed. I had also considered taking a pinch to bring to Avernus in Soldier's Peak, and ruled that out too. He may have been a Grey Warden once, but he was a madman too. We didn't need him curing his own Taint or creating something even worse.

 As it turned out I was able to escape with only a glance at each of my nude companions. The girls didn't bother me, though Zevran was right about Wynne's magical bosom - it didn't sag in the least. Aedan I got just a glimpse of, enough to realise he was as fit as he seemed in armour. Zevran the same, though the hip thrust when he thought anyone was looking just about made me choke with laughter. Sten was even more imposing nude - _yikes! I can't un-see that!_ I tried to avoid looking at Alistair - it was one of the harder things I'd ever tried to do - but couldn't help getting a quick flash of bronze skin and rippling muscles. Blushing furiously I hurried back across the fire wall, shrugging into my armour quickly and studiously ignoring everyone else as they dressed.

 Once finished, we left the temple. We all agreed that no matter how exhausted we were, it would seem somehow sacrilegious to sleep inside the shrine, and we didn’t want to spend an extra second in the temple full of cultist corpses than we absolutely had to. I kept my eye out for the easy shortcut back to the entrance, but apparently that was only a convenience for game purposes. _Damn!_

 Fortunately Zevran was good with directions, and we all followed him blindly. Aedan had his arm around me, and I barely even looked up from the floor as I walked, mind reeling. I stumbled a few times, vaguely overheard Alistair offer to carry me, but even in my fugue I could hear the insincerity of the offer, and Aedan politely declined on my behalf. Even Shale finally fell silent, keeping her comments about the weakness of flesh-creatures to herself.

 We found Brother Genitivi, and limped down the mountainside in the dark, realising once we arrived that we had no more desire to stay in Haven than we did in the temple. We kept going until the creepy little town was out of sight, and then collapsed into the first clearing we came across. We passed around some dried fruit and jerky, and basically all fell asleep where we sat. I woke some time later, with the sun just barely peeking above the hill behind us. I was curled in my brother's arms - _I have a real brother!_ \- and decided I wasn't moving until I had no other choice. I spent some time thinking about suddenly having an actual family, until trying to figure out how in God's name I crossed the barrier between universes repeatedly threatened to break my brain and I quit.

 Everyone else was starting to come around, and after some breakfast that resembled our supper very closely, we set off. We found Bodahn at the camp in the afternoon, and still tired, chose to rest there for the night. We were all quieter than normal at camp, but the normalcy of setting up tents, cooking, and washing took over and restored things a little. No one brought up their visions when we were all separated inside the temple. I was intensely curious, but kept it to myself. _I don’t want to talk about it either._

 I spent a while thinking about what Bryce had said to me about belonging in Thedas, and learning to accept that. _Do I even want to stay in Thedas?_ There were definitely pros and cons. I missed indoor plumbing and supermarkets. I missed security and my fancy memory foam mattress. But I didn’t miss the lonely evenings and weekends, the nearly paralyzing inability to make friends and meet people, the countless hours of video games. And no one there missed me. _I guess…maybe I do want to stay. Now to figure out if I even can. And what will happen to me when the blight is over and my knowledge is no longer useful…I need to do more training._

 Aedan and I sparred before supper, and Zevran joined us again. He watched us, stopping us frequently to readjust my position, stance, or hold on my weapons. Each time he did, he would step into me from behind, pressing himself against me, hands stroking whatever part they wanted to change, using his hips to alter my posture. When I was in the position he wanted, he would practically purr in my ear, and it was almost impossible for me not to laugh. I supposed that in Ferelden, this was quite provocative behaviour - the number of orders who required vows of chastity alone was an indication of the prudish morality - but where I came from, this was about equivalent to the level of intimacy expected when dancing in a nightclub. Not that I did a lot of clubbing, but I wasn't nearly innocent enough to be thrown by Zevran. And knowing what to expect helped too.

 When we were done, Zev's hands lingered on my waist, and I playfully slapped them away, finally able to laugh again, even if it somehow felt inappropriate. I headed back to the fire, planning to offer help with supper, when I heard an indignant squawk from the direction of the tent Leliana shared with Wynne. Everyone jumped, and I wandered over to investigate. I found Leliana jumping around, pulling at her hair like a crazy person, and I watched for a few moments, amused, before finally asking.

 "Leli? Whatcha doing?"

 "There was...something...in my hair."

 "After what we've just been through, I imagine there's a lot of things in your hair."

 "No! Something moved. I swear, if your dog gave me fleas..."

 Prince whined and I laughed. "Sit down, let me look. Stop jumping around, woman! Hold still."

 I ran my fingers through her hair, and caught sight of something. Looking closer, I sifted through the strands closer to her scalp and swore.

 "What is it? Is it fleas?"

 "No, Leli, it's worse, I'm afraid. I don't know how to tell you this, but...you've got lice." Her horrified look almost set off the giggles. "It's not exactly life-threatening, you know."

 "Lice?" Her tone was a hoarse, mortified whisper. "Are you sure?"

 "Leli, what's wrong? I was just teasing about it being worse than fleas. Lice aren't a big deal."

 "Sierra, I...feel very vain, saying this, but...I don't want to shave my head. I think I'd look terrible bald."

 I cracked up, reaching out to grab her hand in apology. "Is that what's got you worried? Oh, dear. No, you won't have to shave your head. Don't worry. We can fix this. It'd be easier if I could get some medicine from home, but even without it isn't a big deal. Promise."

 "How in Andraste's name did I get lice?"

 "I very much doubt Andraste had anything to do with it, Leli. I'm going to guess one of us borrowed a hat at some point..." I trailed off, thinking. "Like me, blast it. That damn templar helm. Lice spread like wildfire among close contacts. Not to mention blankets and things. We're all going to need treatment. And I only have one comb! Ah well. I guess we'd better let everyone else know so I can get started."

 "Started doing what?"

 I sighed theatrically. "Nit picking."

 Everyone else accepted the news of our likely widespread lice problem with less despair than Leliana, though they all seemed happy that I had a possible cure. I explained how lice worked, as far as I could remember, and how the life cycle required new eggs to hatch new lice. If one could get rid of all the eggs over a two week period, the lice would be gone. The bigger issue was the need for all of us to either scour our helms with something like bleach, or acquire new ones. And leather helms don't scour well, so at the very least four of us required new head gear.

 I insisted everyone wash their hair as well as possible, and used up most of my shampoo to make sure it happened. I grabbed what I needed from my tent, set up a log to sit on near the fire, and gestured to Leliana to sit in front of me. While Aedan and Zev bickered over making supper, I began methodically combing through Leliana's damp hair. Picking nits is slow, annoying work, but I was no stranger to the problem. I chatted with Leli while I worked, and she closed her eyes and just enjoyed me playing with her hair, once I reassured her yet again that this would work.

 "Sierra?"

 "Yeah?"

 "How do you know how to do this?"

 "I spent hours doing it when I was a kid."

 "Maker's breath, why?"

 "Well, there were always a lot of children around. Lice were rampant where I grew up, and if someone didn't get rid of them, we'd have infected half of the country. The social workers wouldn't let us go to school if we were known to have lice, so...I picked."

 Everyone had gathered around the fire, and most were apparently quietly listening to me. I flushed, but had come to the realisation inside the temple that if I was going to act like this was my family, they deserved to know a bit about my background, so I just kept talking. It was a struggle, but I managed to keep my voice emotionless, my face neutral, like I was talking about someone else. I didn’t want attention, or God-forbid, pity, for this.

 "I was found, as a baby, by a homeless woman. No one knows where I came from, or who my parents were. They apparently had some problems with abandoned babies, back then, so they set up places where you could drop off an unwanted baby and they'd be taken care of. So the homeless woman who found me took me there. I was apparently still damp, like I'd just barely been born.

 "Back home...you can't be adopted unless your parents sign some papers. So since no one knew who mine were, I couldn't be put up for adoption. Instead, there's a system in place to take care of unwanted kids like me. It's the same system that will take kids away from parents who beat them or whatever. So there's quite a few homeless children floating around. Someone decided, I don't know who, that orphanages were cruel and impersonal, so they came up with another plan. It's called the foster system.

 "The government...the crown, I suppose is the closest thing, will pay families to take care of unwanted children. So virtually anyone can apply, and they try to check to make sure you're not some pervert who would hurt kids, and then they stick one or two (or rarely, several) kids into these homes and pay for their upkeep. The families are called 'foster'. Foster-mother, foster-father, foster-home, foster-child. Some of those homes are really good people, who just want to help. Most of them are people who are desperate for coin, and try to take advantage. They take the upkeep pay and refuse to use it on the child, keeping it for themselves. The kids are neglected, or even abused, and no one believes children when they complain about stuff like that, so they rarely get caught. A very few of the foster-parents are actually pedophiles. People who sexually abuse kids."

 I was speaking quietly, but the horror on the faces of everyone around me told me that it was loud enough. Aedan looked like he would be sick.

 "So anyway, once you're in the system, you tend to get moved around a lot. Some of the families aren't very stable, and lose their approval to be foster-families. Sometimes they decide they don't like you, because you complain too much or you're too noisy or whatever, and they send you back. So every few years, at least, and more often every few months, you get taken from one foster-home and put in another. It gets worse as you get older, too - at least the little ones are cute, and they don't know any better so they don't get families in trouble if they forget to feed them or treat them cruelly.

 "I was raised by fifteen different foster-families, until I was old enough to escape the system. At sixteen, I applied to be considered an adult and moved out on my own. I was lucky - I never ended up in the families where the kids were sexually abused - but I only had one foster-home where they cared about me as anything more than an income source.”

 My stomach was rebelling, by this point, and the odd ache in my chest that I’d always felt whenever I thought of family was raging. I hoped that, from years of public speaking, nothing would show on the outside.

 "In the foster-homes, I often had little foster brothers and sisters, and if I was the oldest, it would be my job to take care of them. And they frequently got lice. There's a medicine at home that makes it easy to get rid of lice, but it's expensive so usually the parents wouldn't buy it. So I learned how to do this."

 Alistair cleared his throat. "Does this have something to do with your nightmare? From the Fade?"

 I nodded. "Not the lice, but the rest, yes. That...place was a mental institution. A place they stick people who are too crazy to be out in the world, where healers can take care of them. Since all this started, I've been afraid someone there would decide that I was insane and put me in one of those places. And then, I have always been lonely, I suppose. And I suspect every orphan or adopted kid out there wonders if they have a family somewhere that they don't know about. So they played on both things - my fear of being locked up, and my desire to have a family. In the nightmare, I was crazy and had forgotten I had a family; Aedan and Leliana were my siblings, and Theron was my husband, and they were trying to convince me that everything I could remember wasn't real. And you were the healer who locked me in there." His eyes were shadowed, and I knew my own pain was on display a little too visibly. I rubbed my face, cleared my throat, and changed the subject.

 I had finished with Leliana's hair, and I explained that we would have to do it every couple of days for two weeks to be sure they were gone. She nodded, then reached down and squeezed my hand before heading to the cookpot.

 "Next!" I called, and Aedan approached. I gestured for him to sit, but he surprised me by kneeling in front of me and hugging me to his chest. His voice was hoarse with emotion, when he pulled away, and he told me he loved me before kissing my forehead. Tears threatened, but I managed to stave them off.

 His shorter hair was easier, and it only took me a few minutes to finish. I tried convincing Leli to watch what I was doing, so she could continue if I disappeared, but she was totally disgusted and couldn't bear it. Wynne was completely disinterested in watching, to my surprise, and seemed to prefer reading her book to helping out. Zevran ended up sitting beside me and agreeing instead.

 "Ah, I wish I had known this when I was back in the whorehouse in Antiva! Every time lice went through there, we all had to shave our heads and the whores wore wigs until it grew back in."

 "I bet it was the wigs that the lice were living in."

 "No doubt! We shall have to spread news of this miraculous cure."

 "Unfortunately it won't work very well here. I've never seen a fine enough comb for it." I showed him the closely spaced teeth on my plastic comb. "I'm going to have to start importing combs every time I go back. The metal ones are even better, actually."

 "I'm assuming you need this treatment as well." He gestured to the comb. "May I?"

 I agreed and he went to work. It takes at least an hour to do it well on long hair, and as the person being treated, it's actually quite relaxing. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed it, even though he did seem to brush my neck, ears, and cheeks more often than strictly necessary. Once he was done, he returned my comb and took his place in front of me.

 His hair was soft and silky, and a joy to play with. I meticulously combed through it, making sure to give him the same treatment he gave me - 'accidentally' stroking the tips of his pointed ears, or leaning forward so that the curve of my breast nudged his shoulder. By the time I was done, I was quite certain I knew which of us had been more affected, and it wasn't me. When I declared myself finished, he sighed softly, stood, thanked me, and walked off into the bush. I giggled to myself and then motioned Morrigan over.

 "Next!"

 Long before I finished everyone, my arms were too tired to continue and Zevran had to take over. I was thus saved from having to do Alistair's, to my relief. Alistair seemed less pleased, but he held his tongue and submitted. To Zev's credit, he waited until he was finished with Alistair before making any suggestive comments.

 I also had everyone air out their blankets, using sticks to beat them and try to delouse them as well as possible. I knew we would need to wash them in hot water, and sooner rather than later, but as we had no extras it would have to wait a bit. Bodahn mentioned he knew of a hotspring on the way back to Redcliffe where the water was too hot to bathe, and actually warmed the air around it - if we camped close enough to it, we should be able to wash our blankets and still be warm enough to allow them to dry overnight.

 That evening I pulled Zev aside at one point when no one was looking.

 "Will...will you do me a favour?"

 "If it is within my power, then yes."

 "Do you have your tattoo needles?" Zevran's eyebrows rose and he smirked.

 "You wish me to mark you?"

 "Yes."

 "You know it is painful, yes?" I nodded.

 "I've had one before." This definitely got his attention. I tucked the hem of the pants of my armour to show him my tiny rose, only to have my jaw drop – it wasn’t there. I smacked myself in the forehead; of course it wasn’t – this body didn’t get a tattoo. I shrugged, embarrassed and uncertain how to explain it; he just raised an eyebrow.

 "What is it you'd like to have done?"

 I described what I was looking for. I wanted it small enough to hide, large enough to see the detail, and on my back where no one would see it unless I was naked. I sketched a rough design out into the dirt with a stick, and he nodded. He asked a few questions about colours and shading, which I declined.

 "Will you tell me why?"

 "No. At least, not right now." He studied my face for a few moments, and finally agreed.

 I followed him to his tent, crawling in and unlacing my leathers enough that he could get at my back. He prepped the skin with some sort of oil and began, freehand. I was intensely curious, but resolved to trust in his artistic ability. It was painful, but my meditation practice with Alistair came in handy and I was able to tune it out, clearing my mind and thinking of nothing. How long we sat like that, I wasn't sure, but it must have been hours. As the light waned, he lit a couple of candles, and I vaguely wondered if he would have enough light to see. He didn’t complain, so I decided to trust him.

 When he was done, we used a crude mirror that he carried along with the small compact mirror I had brought so he could show me. It was perfect. In stark black outline, a griffon and a dragon were squaring off, only the outline of their profiles, in the centre of a Chantry starburst. The dragon was breathing fire, and the griffon appeared to be squawking in defiance. And I swore I saw what looked like the letters A and S in the swirls of the fire. I pointed them out and raised an eyebrow. Zevran kept his face impassive, but his eyes sparkled as he lied to me.

 "Purely random. If you see letters, it is because you see what you want to see." I didn't believe him. "Do you wish me to change it?"

 I stared a little bit longer. "No, Zev. It's perfect. Thank you." My smile was warm and he returned it, seeming very pleased with himself. I chose to ignore it. He handed me a by-now familiar small red vial, instructing me to drink a few drops four times a day to promote healing and prevent infection. Apparently using a poultice or drinking too much could ruin the dye. It was only slightly sore before, and I could barely feel it after drinking the potion. _Too bad they didn’t have these potions on Earth when I got my rose!_ I recalled the dressing changes and vitamin E cream applications with amusement. Zevran told me I didn’t need to protect it much or keep it covered as long as I drank my drops.

 I slept heavily, again ignoring the veiled looks from Alistair and Wynne as I climbed into and out of Aedan's tent. I knew I could have cleared it up - explained how Aedan and I felt about each other, what Bryce Cousland had said to me inside the temple - but I wasn't ready to talk about it, and Aedan seemed content to let me choose how much to say.

 We packed up for the two week trek back to Redcliffe. I spent some time riding the cart, dealing with Bodahn's and Sandal's hair, and chatting with the talkative dwarves. I also spent some time teaching Leliana more songs from home, though only when no one else was listening. I spent the rest of the long days on foot circulating through talking to everyone. I was back to our usual evening routine of sparring with Aedan (with Zevran 'helping', and more often flirting), followed by supper and templar training with Alistair. For the first couple of days the tattoo was slightly tender, and I was grateful for Bodahn’s cart to hold our gear. By the time I’d finished my little red vial, I couldn’t even feel it anymore, though when I had Zevran check he told me it was still puffy and would take a few weeks to be perfect again.

 Zevran and Aedan started sparring with each other while I did templar training. The difference between their skill level and mine was incredible, and a few times before or after my templar practice I watched in awe as they danced around each other with deadly grace. They started spending time comparing styles, weapons, and armour, and I grinned to see Aedan looking so relaxed. Some of the grief that had been almost palpable the past few weeks had been replaced with an easy smile and a ready joke, and I couldn't have been happier.

 On the fourth night I sat with Alistair, for once alone (instead of with Wynne or Morrigan) practicing some focused visualisation that I wasn't having much luck with. We were outside of camp, as distraction wasn't really the point, and once I had fumbled my way through it and finally given up with a headache, I stood to go back to camp. Alistair seemed irritable, and had made a couple of sarcastic comments about my lack of progress, which was quite unlike him. Deciding that I didn't want to deal with a cranky Alistair, I was sort of rushed about leaving the little clearing we'd been sitting in.

 "Oh, wow, not even going to hide it tonight, hey?"

 "Uh...what?" I turned back, brow furrowed in confusion.

 "Don't mind me. Go ahead and rush back to Aedan. Or is it Zevran now? I can't keep track."

 "Excuse me?" He either didn't notice or chose to ignore the heat in my face, and continued blithely on.

 "Well there's been such a parade, I'm having a hard time keeping them all organised. I mean, between sharing a tent with Duncan, and the way Cailan and Teagan look at you, and then into Aedan's tent, and now the way Zevran touches you? I can't figure out whether you're looking to find the best protector, or just like the variety. But don't let me stand in your way, they're probably back there waiting to vie for your attention."

 I had hit my limit. That, of all the people I had met in Ferelden, the one I cared about most could look at me that way, could assume what he had, was too much. My temper was well and truly lost, somewhere, and with a shriek I reached out and grabbed the offending bastard by his ear. I dragged him, cursing and hobbling along, over to the campfire, finally letting go with a shove to Alistair's posterior that sent him reeling over to stand near where everyone else was sitting and chatting, rubbing his ear. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared up at me in shock.

 "The very next person to call me a whore, to even imply it, is going to find out the hard way whether I've learned to use this shiny dagger I carry around with me." I flourished the dagger ostentatiously and then slipped it back into its sheath. My face was deadly serious, and I must have looked incredibly angry because everyone stared at me, open-mouthed in shock. "Now all of you listen to me, because I'm only going to say this once.

 "I have never had sex with Duncan, nor will I. Same goes for Theron and Teagan. I have not had sex with him," I pointed to Aedan, "him, her, her, him or her," pointing to Zevran, Leliana, Morrigan, Sten, and Wynne in sequence. "If you don't believe me, because why would you if you think I'm such a slut? Ask each of them. I have no intention of having sex with any of them, and if I decide to change my mind, I'll be sure to submit a request for your approval in triplicate, Your Majesty." This last was spit in Alistair's direction, and my face must have looked truly frightful because he paled slightly. "Now I'm going over there, if anyone needs me. And Alistair? Stay the hell away from me."

 I turned to walk away, and saw Zevran's shocked expression morph into one of bemusement as he opened his mouth to make some sort of smart comment. Before he said a word, I had the dagger out of its sheath and threw it across the small clearing to thunk into the wood of the small stump he sat on, right between his legs. I was amazed – I’d never thought to throw a dagger before, and doubted I could repeat that shot if my life depended on it. To his credit, Zevran didn't jump or tumble back in surprise, but instead schooled his expression, cleared his throat slightly, pulled the knife out of the wood, and said "So, uh, should we get a start on supper?" I smirked in grim satisfaction, collecting my dagger and stalking off through our small camp to go sit by myself on the far side of Bodahn's wagon. The dwarf took one look at my face as I walked by, grabbed Sandal by the arm and marched him away to leave me in peace.

 I sat for probably half an hour shaking with rage, before the hurt finally broke through. The first couple of tears had just fallen when Aedan, with impeccable timing as usual, crept up and slid down beside me. He didn't say anything, just put his arm around me and pulled me against him. I cracked, shuddering through heaving sobs as he just held me. Finally when I settled, he cleared his throat.

 "Sierra, I realise this doesn't help right now, but he's only asking out of jealousy."

 "Doesn't make him less of an asshole."

 "Agreed. Completely. Believe me, I'm not defending him; although, actually I do feel a bit sorry for him with the way everyone jumped on him after you left. I don't imagine Leliana, Wynne, or even Morrigan have left much of him unbruised, to be honest." I smiled, grateful yet again to have true friends for the first time in my life. "I'd have killed him myself if I didn't know what was going on. All I was trying to say is that he wouldn't care which tent you slept in unless he cared about you."

 I jumped slightly. "You think he cares? Why would he, if he assumes I've slept with everyone who isn't him?"

 "He doesn't think you have, Sierra. He's scared that you have. And big macho men don't tend to handle being scared or jealous very well. Add that to you avoiding him..."

 "I don't avoid him. I've been training with him every evening for weeks!"

 "But you don't talk to him. Not like you do with the rest of us. You don't joke, or tease, or touch him. He notices."

 "I can't, Aedan. I...he...we can't be together, not ever. And it hurts too much to talk to him knowing that."

 "If you love him, sweet sister, then at least tell him that. He's hurt and doesn't know what to make of you. Can you blame him? You smile at him like he's your personal sunshine one minute, then refuse to look at him or answer a direct question the next. You tell him that in your nightmare, he's the one locking you up. And then you flirt with Zev and share a tent with me... the poor guy is completely confused, not that it gives him an excuse to imply you're a whore, I realise. Just tell him. Give him a chance to keep his heart in one piece."

 "I can't risk it. I...if he tried to convince me...Aedan, with five minutes concerted effort he'd be in my bed, consequences be damned. I can't give him the chance to change my mind. Although perhaps now would be the time - I think I'd rather stab him than look at him right now."

 Aedan shook his head. "And would it be the worst thing that could happen, if he convinced you to give him a chance? If you’re going to accept that you’re from here, that you belong here, perhaps it’s not so unreasonable for you to consider a relationship here.” He sighed. “I can't force you. But I think you're being more than a little unfair to him, don't you?" He left me, then, and the grief took me again. I stayed alone, far from the only people I knew in the entire world, and wallowed in my own misery until I finally crawled into the tent Aedan and I shared and slept.


	27. Bunnies and Small Talk

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Bunnies and Small Talk**

 When I heard silence and felt something under me that wasn’t the sharp rock I'd been too lazy to move from under my shoulder, I knew I was back at home. I didn't even open my eyes before succumbing and crying some more. When I'd finally cried myself out, I rolled onto my back and tried to take stock, again. It was dark, and I seemed to be alone, which meant I wasn't in the ICU, which was good. I fumbled around until I found a button that turned on the bedside light. I was in a two-bed room, but the other bed was empty. I still had the strange IV sticking out of my collar bone, but no other tubes or wires. I needed to go to the bathroom, though, and I actually felt hungry for once. I pushed the button for the nurse, and waited.

 An older nurse came bustling in after a few minutes, smiling at me. She didn't seem shocked to see me awake, so at least someone had warned her about my weird habit of dropping into a coma at random and waking up just as suddenly. She did give me a strange look as I asked for my clothes before agreeing to even pee, and put on all my heavy gear and my boots.

 "Are you okay to get up, sweetheart?"

 I was confused. "Sure, why wouldn't I be?"

 "Well, most people feel a little...weak, after waking up from seventeen days in a coma." She eyed me, bouncing on my heels in my hiking boots. "Looks like you're good to go. Bathroom's over there - there's a shower if you want one later. I'll just go let your doctor know you're awake."

 The bathroom was a shock. I looked nothing like myself in the mirror. Or, more accurately, I looked something like my Fereldan self. I'd lost some more weight - not enough to be unhealthy, but enough to uncover the fact that I might have a bit of a girlish figure one day. It changed the shape of my face, somehow, and with how my hair had grown, I thought that my companions in Ferelden might even recognise me.

 My scalp was itchy, I noted, and I decided to take a shower later. I went back to my bed, fishing through the cupboard nearby, pocketing the coin and more bottles of shampoo. The nurse popped her head back in to tell me breakfast wasn't for another hour, but that the cafeteria was open if I wanted to go down there. I did, and ate the best, largest breakfast I could remember eating in years. It was nice to have fresh fruit, and eggs, and milk, and sausages, and not worry about how they'd been stored or what they were made from. For all that, it wasn't nearly as satisfying without all the teasing and chatting I'd become accustomed to during mealtime over the past weeks.

 The doctor showed up not long after I arrived back in my room. The only thing he had to report was that in my absence, I'd been assigned a 'guardian' - someone to make decisions for me when I was unconscious. He was eager to have me meet with her as soon as possible, because he was still having trouble trying to keep me without extra accoutrements like feeding tubes, despite the forms I'd signed. I agreed to meet with her as soon as she was available, and the nurse left a message for her to come. We talked about my dreams a bit, including the odd burns that showed up and disappeared just as quickly. Neither of us had scientific explanations, so we just let it be.

 I contemplated for a bit, and finally decided to show him my tattoo. His face was rather priceless when he saw it - fresh and inflamed as it was - and knew I couldn't have had it done in hospital. I think, despite everything, he thought my dreams were just my brain's way of making sense of my medical problem. He stared, open-mouthed, at the proof that not only was he wrong, he was very, very out of his depth. I shrugged - at least it wasn't just me whose mind was about to explode anymore.

 During our conversation he caught me scratching my head a number of times, and finally pulled my hands away and took a look.

 "What the hell?" He was suddenly almost shouting, and I couldn't understand it, and then I realised.

 "Oh, let me guess. I've got sodding lice."

 He stopped shouting and stared at me. "...uh, yeah. How did you know?"

"I've had it before." _True, though not the answer to the question he’d asked me_. "And I have it in my dream. I guess I could use some Nix and some of those combs, hey?"

 He seemed confused, and definitely didn't understand why I wanted several metal lice combs, but agreed without too much trouble. Promising to be back the next day, he wandered off to order lice treatment. I heard him shouting at the nurse outside, probably wondering how I'd managed to contract lice in hospital. _I'll have to do something nice for her later, since I can't seem to convince anyone of the truth..._

I treated myself with Nix while fully dressed, much to the nurse's amusement, and then showered as quickly as possible and got dressed again before allowing her to comb out the nits. I discreetly pocketed three of the combs while she wasn't paying attention. I considered stealing the bottle of nix, but there was nowhere near enough to treat eleven of us, so I gave up. Finally the court-appointed guardian showed up. I repeated my same requests - no tubes unless blood work showed I was sick, no ICU admissions unless I was truly on my deathbed. She looked at me like I was crazy, but nodded and took notes and I hoped she got the point even if she didn't understand why. I spent the rest of the day bored to tears.

 I paced the hallways, walked to the cafeteria and back a dozen times. I practiced meditating, but that got me thinking about Alistair, and then my concentration was shot. I worked on my footwork like I did with Aedan, trying to make it look like tai chi or something. I pestered nurses and porters, cleaning staff and other patients, trying to stir up some sort of conversation, but they were all busy, and none of them were Aedan or Leliana. I missed my brother, and that triggered another bout of crying. I had difficulty falling asleep, unsure if it was due to anger at Alistair, missing everyone in Ferelden, or just a lack of the usual amount of exercise I'd been getting. It seemed strange to miss exercise, but walking all day had just become natural to me. _Weird._

 I was still hellishly angry at Alistair, but thinking about it, I realised – it still wasn’t enough to make me want to stay on Earth. I was a Fereldan, if I had anything to do with the decision. I shook my head; the long-term implications were staggering. I put on my iPod headphones and listened to the songs I'd been teaching Leliana, and finally dozed off.

 ********

 When I woke, I was in a tent. It was clearly one of ours, but looking around, it definitely wasn't the one I shared with Aedan. It wasn't Leli's, either. I briefly wondered if the Maker (or whoever) had a sick enough sense of humour to put me in Zevran's tent, but then I looked again and saw a tiny statuette by the pillow. A dragon. _Oh for the love of God._

I sat up, looking at my boots and jackets with satisfaction, then finally crawled out of the tent. Alistair was sitting watch by the fire, and he jumped when I emerged. I gave him a dirty look, which shut him up nicely, crept across to Aedan's tent, and crawled in. He woke as I entered, and his face registered relief. He pulled me into a hug, and I sighed in contentment. I had to unpack my bedroll, and I quietly described waking in Alistair's tent as I worked.

 "Your Maker has a sick sense of humour, you know. I'm starting to believe Leli - he isn't gone from this world. He's just far more sarcastic than you know, so you don't recognise him." Aedan was in stitches by the time I was ready and collapsed into bed. He reached out to hold my hand, as usual, and I fell asleep again.

 Alistair was uncharacteristically quiet in the morning, but everyone else seemed happy to see me. I gave Aedan the last of my medieval coin and showed off the lice combs I stole. Everyone laughed about me discovering I had lice there too, and I stuck my tongue out liberally at anyone who giggled. I avoided Alistair and walked with everyone else, even skipping along beside Sten for a while. I wasn't exactly trying to rub it in his face, but I was sure he noticed and that left me feeling catty and hollow, instead of satisfied like I'd hoped. I sparred with Aedan, flirted a bit more with Zevran than usual, then set up a lice treatment station and spent the evening doing that instead of learning templar skills. We had a line going - three of us picking at a time (after convincing Leli to help), and again I managed to avoid doing Alistair's hair, though I wondered if Leliana had engineered that. And she pulled his hair a little harder than necessary too, I noticed with half a grin. I cried in bed that night, trying to stay silent and not wake Aedan, but he was too observant and pulled me into his arms. I sobbed, hoping no one heard, and finally fell asleep on his shoulder.

 In the morning Alistair looked worse for wear, and something inside me softened. I was still angry, but I knew that I was over-reacting because of how I felt, knew he hadn't meant what he said, not really. And I still loved him, completely inappropriately. So I stopped purposefully avoiding him, but didn't give him the chance to discuss it either. That evening, I found a clearing like where we would normally sit, set up logs for both of us should he choose to join me, and sat down to practice meditating. After a few minutes he approached me, looking anxious.

 "So show me that trick again? I still can't see the flow like you said I should." I kept my face carefully neutral, while his radiated relief. He sat down and dove into a discussion of magical auras, both of us pretending that nothing had ever happened.

 The next day brought us a darkspawn ambush near the turn to Honnleath. Aedan and Alistair got jumpy, but the group of them must have been moving at a full run because we were in the thick of things before we'd had much warning. Aedan shouted for me to get back, but he needn't have worried; they ignored me, as always, and two of them fell to my daggers as they turned their unprotected backs to me. Once the group had been dispatched, I noticed Zevran looking at me strangely.

 "What? I don't know why either, but darkspawn ignore me. It's like they can't see me or something. Why are you looking at me like that?"

 "You aren't..." he mimed gagging again.

 "Yeah, well, they're not human." I saw his face go dangerously blank, and tried to think what I'd said that would bother him. "Wait, I mean...they're not people. I don't see elves as any different from humans, Zev. I wasn't making a distinction based on race." He relaxed his expression, and I sighed. "Darkspawn...aren't people. They're monsters. Why would I feel sick over killing monsters?"

 "I have no idea. Why do you feel sick over killing rabbits?"

 I blushed. "It's...different. Rabbits are cute. And you expect me to eat them." The whole group laughed and I turned scarlet. "Yeah, yeah, make fun of the city girl."

 The rest of the journey back to Redcliffe was uneventful, except for one night spent shivering while all our blankets were washed in Bodahn's hot spring. After another week of travel, we could see the lake in the distance. Our lice were gone, much to everyone's delight, and only once had I been stuck combing through Alistair's hair. It was soft and golden, and I fought off mental images of more pleasant reasons to run my hands through it. Even the residual anger wasn't enough to keep me safe.

 Our return to Redcliffe was greeted by a very pleased Bann Teagan, a grim looking Theron – _damn! Now I'm going to have to remember his alias again_ – and a surprise; Tomas.   We were all so relieved to see him - well, Alistair, Aedan, and I at least - that we almost bowled him over in our hurry to exchange handshakes, shoulder slaps, and in my case, a hug and kiss on the cheek. Everyone was exhausted - we'd practically run the last few miles - and Eamon needed to be given the ashes, so we decided to send almost everyone to bed, except Alistair and Teagan who went upstairs to deal with the administration of said miracle cure, and Aedan and I who settled in the library with Tomas and Theron to bring them up to date. We told them about our travels, our new additions, Shale and Zevran, and the insane cult in Haven. Theron swore that once he was able, he'd send a detachment of military to mop up the remains of the cult and protect the urn.

 Duncan was very interested in my new-found templar abilities, and the continued inability of the darkspawn to see me even when I was standing in front of them. We discussed it until we heard footsteps approaching.

 Alistair and Teagan returned to report that Eamon seemed to be sleeping more naturally, and they hoped he'd rest overnight. Isolde was keeping watch. We decided to have Tomas tell everyone what was happening in Denerim in the morning, and scattered to find ourselves beds. Tomas insisted on walking me to my room, and I didn't object - I still had no desire to end up anywhere alone with Theron.

 "Something happened, with Theron, didn't it."

 It was actually sort of cathartic telling someone the whole story - I was keeping Aedan and Alistair in the dark to protect Theron's health. I knew Tomas would understand, and I was right.

 "Thank you for keeping that secret. I can only guess what would happen if Aedan or Alistair found out."

 I nodded. "I didn't go through all that to save him only to allow him to die from a dagger in the back one day to avenge my honour. Though it turns out Alistair would likely be angry with me, not him."

 "What?" Duncan looked shocked.

 "He...thinks I've been sleeping around. I...when you left, I started sharing Aedan's tent. Not his bed, just his tent. And Zevran is an incorrigible flirt, and Theron didn't make any attempt to hide staring at me...He thinks I've slept with all of you. Probably Sten too, honestly. Everyone but him."

 "Oh, Sierra. I know how much that must hurt you."

 "I'll be fine. It's probably better - it will keep him away from me." He squeezed my hand.

 "I don't think I can do anything about Alistair, but...if something occurs to me I'll let you know. Theron and I have had some serious discussions, since I arrived, on discretion and what it means to be a leader. I broached it as if I was talking about Aedan, but I think he got the picture. I will try to keep him away from you, as much as possible."

 I thanked him, impulsively hugged him again, and then bid him goodnight to collapse into the bed with Leliana, falling asleep half dressed.

 In the morning, after baths and breakfast, we reconvened in the library. Solona joined us, but stayed quiet at the back of the crowd. Eamon had stirred, briefly, and though he wasn't yet awake, it seemed he was improving. Duncan took the lead.

 "Things in the capital are...worse than I would have believed. Worse than it seems like Sierra even predicted. There is rioting in the streets because of the rumours flying about Loghain abandoning the battle at Ostagar. The army is being used for riot control, only marginally effectively. Loghain was a great general, in his time, but...something has happened. He's either gone mad or he's losing support of the nobles who are supposed to be with him and doesn't have enough manpower. I can't say which.

 "Rendon Howe is the Arl of Denerim and Teyrn of Highever. He has been capturing people, noble and commoners alike, torturing them. I tried to free them, but wasn't able to - his security is too good, and I didn't want to be responsible for what Loghain would do if I assassinated him. I was able to intercept Riordan, and he's on his way back to Orlais to try to bring more Wardens across. He's got some secret routes to smuggle people in...

 "The Alienage is closed to outsiders, but I was able to sneak in and speak with Valendrian. He has warned the elves about the Tevinters - I can't keep the blasted slavers away, but at least the elves will be suspicious from the start and not walk into slavery by mistake."

 Theron finally broke in and starting ranting about Loghain, which I'd been waiting for since seeing Tomas' face. I knew they must have discussed it multiple times before we got back, but he seemed to be looking for allies to help him convince Tomas that he should return to the capital and retake his throne. He appeared crestfallen when no one took his side, and finally stormed out. Tomas rolled his eyes and we all carried on.

 "Tomas, I...am worried about something. About how we are going to get him back to his throne. Because...it turns out Anora is just as bad as Loghain in some ways, completely power-mad, and I don’t think she can be allowed to remain ruling. And she is quite possibly barren, which leaves us with no heir to the throne. If Loghain doesn't manage to kill him for returning, she'll try to kill him to prevent him from putting her aside. At least, I wouldn't put it past her. So what do we do? We can't deal with this civil war just to have another on our hands if he dies."

 "I'm hoping Eamon might have some ideas on that, Sierra, because I surely do not."

 Teagan jumped in. "I have an idea, but I think I should wait to see if Eamon agrees. For now I think the best plan is to continue gathering information and allies."

 That led to a lively discussion of where to go next. We had Orzammar, the Dalish, and Soldier's Peak to deal with; Marjolaine gunning for Leliana necessitating a trip to Denerim at some point; Flemeth to kill - it turned out Aedan had found the grimoire in the Circle Tower and given it to Morrigan, with the predictable result that the apostate wanted her 'mother' dead. It was a bit overwhelming. And Tomas planned to go trying to scout out the horde, see if he could locate the Archdemon, so we were on our own to do it. Again.

 We agreed to spend two days in Redcliffe to see if Eamon awoke, and to think about our plans in the meantime. We separated after that decision; Tomas left to find Theron; Aedan and Zevran took off together leaving me with Prince, and I watched them go with narrowed eyes. Wynne wanted to examine Eamon, and dragged Morrigan along. Solona left on her own, I assumed to join Jowan. I wondered how that was going, but didn’t get the chance to ask. Shale and Sten seemed content to hide within the castle. Alistair and Leliana were both headed to the Chantry to pay their respects, leaving me at loose ends. Teagan pulled me aside and informed me that he was going to visit the orphanage, inviting me to join him.

 I had slipped into a dress instead of armour when I'd woken - it felt weird to be so unprotected after weeks on the road - so I grabbed my cloak and joined him with Prince at our heels. The orphanage was wonderful. The children all looked happy and healthy, and had been joined by four others who had been found at an outlying farm. No one was quite certain but it seemed they had been attacked by bandits, who killed the parents leaving two little girls and two boys. How the children survived was anyone’s guess – they were all in shock and even the eldest, who was only seven, couldn’t seem to talk about it. Bevan and the seven-year-old were play-sword fighting, while the older girl helped with the babies and the younger girl played with dolls. Bella and Kaitlyn looked busy, but happier than I'd seen them. Teagan, Prince, and I spent a hectic morning crawling on the floor and chasing after giggling youngsters, and we were all spent by the time we left for lunch.

 When we returned, we received a report that Eamon had awoken briefly, and Teagan rushed off to check on him. Prince collapsed near the hearth of the main hall and went to sleep. I found Morrigan reading in the library, and settled in to join her. She put her book down and chatted with me, which just seemed so surreal somehow. With the whole 'mysterious witch' thing going on, it was easy to forget she was just a woman, and one with no experience in social interaction.

 We talked a bit about Flemeth; in the game, I felt like it was some sort of manipulation on the part of Morrigan when she asked me to kill the elder witch. But it was clear, talking to her, just quietly one on one, that she was absolutely terrified of her mother. We couldn't decide, between us, which was worse - not to have parents, or have a mother and find out she only wanted you so she could steal your body. I also asked if she thought her mother would know anything about me, or who I was and where I came from. She thought not - her mother had told her of visions of what was to come, including the fact that only two Grey Wardens survived Ostagar and that one of them would die to end the Blight without the blood magic ritual, and also of Ferelden in civil war without a King; she never mentioned me or my strange abilities, nor did she know that Duncan and Cailan survived.

 I asked her what she intended to do if the Grey Wardens turned her down when she offered the blood magic ritual that could save whoever took the killing blow. As per the game, she indicated she would likely leave; her only reason for being part of the battle was to end up pregnant with an Old God. I spent some time talking to her about friendship and safety in groups, and hoped she might consent to stick around. She left the question unanswered, but it wasn't a direct 'no', either. _I'll take it._

"So...the whiny Chantry boy."

 "What? What about him?"

 "I will not claim to understand why, but ‘tis obvious how you feel about the simpleton."

 "I..."

 "And I do not understand. He does seem to return the feeling, and I dare say some experience in adult relations would benefit him; you are not entangled with anyone else, that I can see. So why have you not just bedded him?"

 "It's not that easy, really."

 "But it is! He is attractive enough if you like that sort of thing, and you are a beautiful woman; quit mooning over him, go lay with him, and then you can leave it behind. Be done with him."

 "Oh, Morrigan. If I didn't care for him, that might work. But I wouldn't be able to leave it behind, and yet staying with him isn't really an option either. Have you never had something you were unable to get out of your system completely? Remaining unrequited is all I can do."

 "’Tis up to you, but if watching it is driving me crazy, I can't imagine what it must be like for you."

 "I...thanks, I think."

 We ended up reading quietly together for a while. I picked up some adventure book written for children, smiling as I leafed through it. That was where everyone else found us when they returned from their various pastimes. Teagan joined us briefly. Eamon was awake, and was slowly being brought up to speed on the events that had gotten us here. He was still exhausted and was (understandably) devastated about Connor, and didn't feel well enough to face everyone immediately; Teagan hoped he would come down the following day, so we could plan before we left Redcliffe. The rest of us ate supper together and then retired early.

 Solona remained quiet and aloof, her expression revealing nothing. She just watched everything, giving the impression of filing it away for future examination. She had yet to decide whether to join the Grey Wardens, and I supposed that left her somehow feeling distant from our little group.

 I knew I wasn't ready to sleep, and Leliana had gone off for a walk or something, so I wandered. I didn't want to run into Theron, although I knew at some point I was going to have to deal with him, and finally decided to go track down Aedan and see if he wanted to talk for a while. I found his room and knocked softly on the door.

 "Who is it?" His voice sounded strained; I wondered if he was upset.

 "It's me. Sierra. Can I come in?"

 "No! Uh, one second."

 I heard rustling and what might have been whispering, and after a minute, the door opened a crack. Aedan was shirtless, looking slightly...rumpled. I raised one eyebrow.

 "Everything okay? What's wrong?"

 "Nothing, nothing. I was just bored. Thought I'd see if you wanted to chat. But I can see you're...busy." His chest was strategically blocking my sight into the room, and I thought I could guess why. I smirked and waggled my eyebrows at him suggestively. "We can talk tomorrow."

 "You sure? If you need something..." His face was crimson.

 "No, I'm good. Goodnight, Aedan."

 The door closed, and I whispered to myself. “Goodnight, Zev.”

 Unsure what to do with myself, I found myself staring at Alistair's door. I was about to slink away when I heard footsteps down the hall and looked left to see him approaching. _Great, now I look like I've been lurking outside his door._

"Sierra?"

 "Hey. I, um, thought maybe we could practice? I'm bored and not tired yet."

 He nodded agreeably. "Come on in."

 His room was small and neat, and he offered me the only chair then settled himself cross-legged on the bed.

 "So what would you do at home if you were bored?"

 "Often? Play this...performance."

 "More than once?"

 "Well, yeah...it was possible to make different decisions and change the story. Like, for example, instead of going to the Circle for help with Connor, we could also have allowed Jowan to perform a blood magic ritual that would have rescued him at the cost of Isolde's life. Or we could have helped Greagoir obtain and carry out the Right of Annulment instead of trying to save the mages. It made it interesting to try more than once."

 "I can't help but find the whole thing entirely creepy."

 "Me too, now that I know it's real. It would be sort of like...writing a book you thought was about imaginary characters, only to wake up one morning and find yourself in the middle of it."

 "You know, most people would probably have curled up into a ball and waited to die, doubting their sanity the whole time."

 "Don't think I didn't consider it. But I decided that if I wasn't insane, doing nothing was going to get me - and everyone else - in trouble so it didn't cost me anything to assume it was real." He smiled at me. "Besides. I woke up in really uncomfortable places, for the most part. If I'd been somewhere with a feather bed I might have been more inclined to wallow in self-pity."

 He laughed. "So you're a 'fair-weather' omnipotent companion?" I laughed too.

 We chatted for a while longer until I caught myself yawning.

 "You know, it seems I'm not going to be of any use practicing. I suppose I might as well go to bed after all."

 "Goodnight Sierra. Thanks for the talk."

 


	28. The "Plan"

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The “Plan”

 The next morning, we heard that Eamon would be meeting with everyone after lunch. So I donned my armour and went down to the practice yard, and spent the morning impressing Wayne with how much I had learned. He grudgingly admitted that I wouldn't be completely useless in a fight, and might even have a chance of defending myself. It was high praise coming from him.

 I had a quick bath before lunch and then ate in a rush, eager to finally meet Eamon and figure out The Plan. And I was curious to see whether the fans who thought he was an opportunistic jerk or those who thought he was a nice guy who lacked tact dealing with suboptimal circumstances were correct. Everyone else seemed to be feeling the same anticipation; we were all nervous energy and forced joviality as we waited in the by=now familiar library. Solona was absent, as was Jowan, and I was sure that was by design.

 Teagan helped Eamon in, and we all stood and bowed slightly as the shuffling, exhausted looking Arl entered and was seated. Theron shook his hand and clapped him gently on the shoulder, and Tomas, Alistair, and Aedan all shook hands as well. Then he turned to those of us he hadn't met, and Teagan performed introductions.

 "Wynne, mage of the Fereldan Circle. Shale, a golem, obviously. Zevran, Antivan Crow. Leliana, lay sister of the Chantry. Morrigan, mage from the Korcari Wilds. Sten of the Beresaad. And...Sierra."

 Eamon nodded at us as our names were called, and 'Your Grace' was muttered by each of us in turn. Studying Eamon, it was clear the poison had taken its toll on him, but there was raw intelligence behind his eyes, and I could tell he would remember every word spoken. He’d obviously been warned about our eclectic group – he didn’t even blink when a golem and a Qunari were introduced.

 His voice was slightly hoarse from disuse, and he stated that he'd heard Teagan's version of events, but wanted to hear ours. Theron, Tomas, and Aedan all started talking at once, to everyone's amusement, and I watched Eamon's eyes widen as, with a glance, Theron and Tomas both allowed Aedan to talk. _We all know who our leader is, rank and years be damned._ I grinned. I noticed he conspicuously left out any details regarding my templar abilities, and I found that interesting. _Maybe he doesn't entirely trust Eamon either?_ He referred to me as his sister, without explaining that at all, and I almost giggled as Alistair’s and Eamon’s eyebrows tried to climb into their hairlines. Eamon asked a number of expected questions about me, and seemed vaguely unsatisfied with the answers as it was obvious Aedan was side-stepping some of the pertinent information, but I knew that I didn't have anything personal to go on to convince him. I decided to keep quiet and let Aedan field the questions as much as possible.

 Finally we were up to date, and then Tomas cut in with what he’d discovered in Denerim. Eamon listened carefully, interrupting only a couple of times for clarification. Finally, he turned to me.

 “Well, my Lady-“

 “Just Sierra, Your Grace. Please.”

 “Sierra then. You have managed a considerable feat – convincing my brother, Duncan, and King Cailan of your origin and sincerity. I am impressed.”

 “You mean skeptical, not impressed, Your Grace. It’s okay. I understand. It’s sort of an insane story, isn’t it? It’s true, none-the-less.”

 Teagan cut in. “It’s hard not to believe when you see her disappear into thin air right in front of you.”

 “Or predict exactly who and what we’ll be fighting, where a deactivated golem is hiding and the correct activation phrase, and how to find the location of the Ashes which cured you, Your Grace.” Aedan jumped in. I smiled at him and Teagan both.

 “So how about this then: what happens next?”

 “Well, I can’t exactly say. I mean, I’ve changed events already. Between Tomas and Theron, and the fact that it should have taken at least a month more to get the Ashes and bring them back…I know roughly what challenges we will face as we try to gather allies for the battle against the Archdemon, but as for what will happen with the human politics in Ferelden, or when the final battle might be, I’d say that’s all up in the air.”

 “So you’re saying your knowledge is useless to us.” Everyone in the room looked a little irritated, but I held up my hand to forestall the peanut gallery.

 “No, your Grace. I’m saying that we have free will, and we can yet decide our fate to some extent. If I’ve proven anything by coming here, it’s that things can change. My knowledge just gives us some idea of how we may wish to go about making those changes.”

 “Cailan has suggested we just march on Denerim and prove he still lives, and that will be Loghain’s downfall. I’ve half a mind to go along with it, really, but I know Duncan is very much against it, as is Teagan, both because of you. Why?”

 “Well, Your Grace, I am only speculating, but here are my thoughts. Loghain has already committed treason and tried to get Cailan killed, blaming it on the Grey Wardens. He’s afraid of you, and already tried to have you murdered as well. Whatever his reasons, his only hope of holding onto his power – and his life – is if Cailan doesn’t survive to tell the truth. He has the manpower to have the roads watched; if there was any whisper of Cailan’s survival, he could outnumber us and slaughter us all, strengthening his own position in the Landsmeet by claiming you rebelled against his lawful authority. You’re the only one with the clout to defeat him, since Fergus is still missing; with you dead, and Cailan as well, there would be no one to fight him. The way I reasoned it through, if we take the direct route to confront him, we’re just going to end up as corpses in a field somewhere to feed the crows.”

 “So what would you suggest?”

 “Well, I don’t know for sure. Aedan is our leader and I think those decisions are best left up to him and Tomas, as well as Theron and yourself. Teagan also mentioned he had an idea, which I’d be thrilled to hear.” Eamon scowled, I wasn’t sure whether at me directly or in response to Teagan’s plan. Aedan spoke up.

 “Yes, Teagan, I‘d also like to hear your plan.”

 Teagan looked nervously at his brother. “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea, really,” he demurred. Eamon looked like he’d been sucking on a lemon.

 “Tell us anyway, my Lord?” I asked. “Even if it isn’t a workable plan, maybe it will stimulate someone else’s thoughts.”

 “Well, I was thinking that if …Theron hadn’t survived, we would be having a discussion about putting Alistair on the throne.” Alistair and Theron both objected, but Teagan just spoke over their bluster. “We would call a Landsmeet, travel to Denerim, try to prove Loghain’s treachery to the assembled nobles, and then put Alistair forward as the legitimate heir. What if we do that…go through it as if nothing had changed, but at last minute, once those who would betray us are out in the open, reveal Theron instead of Alistair? If Loghain doesn't know about Theron, he won't plan to ambush us, it would seem. He can go into the Landsmeet wearing a helm with no one the wiser."

 We all stopped and stared at Teagan, thinking furiously. It would get Theron into Denerim safely, and allow him to see what Loghain and Anora had done; it would ensure all the nobles of Ferelden saw Theron alive before Loghain had a chance to react. It put Alistair's parentage out there, something I knew he wouldn't want, and I could see his face scrunch slightly as he thought about it. Overall, though, I knew he'd do what was best for Ferelden and this was far better than any plan I could come up with.

 "Teagan, you're a genius!" Tomas and Aedan appeared to agree with me, nodding heartily.

 Teagan looked abashed, while Theron and Eamon both looked enraged. They both started sputtering about deception and dishonour, but after a couple of moments Aedan interrupted them.

 "Are you two quite finished? Look, honour and integrity are all fine and dandy, but in this case all they are going to net us is a swift funeral. I'd rather be alive and get yelled at for playing a trick than honourable and dead. If one of you has a better plan, I'm happy to hear it." That shut them up, and though both were still red-faced and obviously angry, they didn't respond.

 "Now the question is do we do that now, or wait until we have secured the alliances of the elves and dwarves?"

 Theron, of course, wanted to call the Landsmeet immediately. Aedan and Alistair wanted to see to the treaties first. Eamon encouraged them, disagreeing with Theron, and I watched him with narrowed eyes until I realised - he was hoping to buy himself time to come up with a different plan. Which was fine with me - if he could find one that worked and didn't get us killed, I would be thrilled - as long as he kept his mouth shut about Theron in the meantime.

 In the end, we decided to wait for the treaties. Everyone promised to keep the secret of Theron's existence. He was disgusted at being left behind in Redcliffe yet again, but no one seemed too sympathetic. I wondered how long it would take before he finally understood that he had to do what was best for Ferelden, not just what was the most fun for him. Maybe being around Eamon for a while would be good for him.

 After some discussion, we decided to do a huge circle - from Redcliffe to Flemeth's, then to the Brecilian Forest for the Dalish, then into Denerim. Once done there, we would head to Soldier's Peak (apparently Duncan had been in contact with Levi Dryden and arranged for us to meet him at the pass leading to the old fortress), over to Orzammar, and finally back to Redcliffe. In travel time alone, that would be twelve weeks, give or take. So assuming we ended up spending a week with the Dalish, another in Denerim, one in Soldier's Peak, and at least two weeks in Orzammar, that would be more than four months all told. And then I did the math and realised - with the exception of a day or two every couple of weeks, I'd been in Ferelden for more than two months already. In two months, it already felt more like home than mine ever had.

 Once the meeting was over, Tomas kept Aedan, Alistair, and I back. He informed us that he had secured Solona’s agreement to become a Grey Warden, but that because we couldn’t do the Joining until we found Denerim’s supply of Archdemon blood, she wouldn’t be travelling with us. Aedan objected, but Tomas put his foot down.

 “Your…companions, know far too many of the Grey Warden secrets as it is.” His gaze flickered to Morrigan as he spoke, but the witch seemed intent on her own destination as she hurried out. “I won’t have Solona learning the truth and trying to flee. She’s a recruit now, but there’s no reason for her to be terrified of what will happen for the months until her Joining, if she overhears something she shouldn’t. She can stay here and keep Jowan company until she can undergo the ritual.”

 I spoke. “Are we going to recruit Jowan?” Alistair glanced at me, surprised and looking annoyed, but Tomas just looked thoughtful.

 “I don’t know. I would…worry, about his Joining.”

 I nodded. Jowan certainly wasn’t the strongest in willpower – or talent – as far as I’d seen. I had to wonder if he’d survive the Joining, though the thought that the alternative was for him to be made Tranquil gave me pause. If it was me, I’d rather risk the Joining. When I said as much, Tomas gave me a shrewd look, but nodded thoughtfully. I did notice that no decisions seemed to have been made about the mage’s fate so far, despite Eamon’s recovery.

 I headed up to the room I shared with Leli and went to sleep. The next morning, Tomas left to go scouting, and the rest of us took our leave of Theron, Eamon, Solona, Jowan, and Teagan. I was aware that Eamon and Teagan had been awake well into the night talking with Aedan and Tomas, and they all looked a bit haggard.

 Our pace wasn't as quick as normal, although I wondered if our destination - Flemeth's - had as much to do with it as fatigue. I certainly wasn't looking forward to trying to kill a several-hundred-year-old abomination. No matter how much she deserved it. And the concept that she'd only die temporarily - well, that wasn't comfortable either. _Would she hold a grudge?_

Instead of following the roads, we set out through the forest leading into the Korcari Wilds. Aedan claimed to be able to navigate to Flemeth's, though even Morrigan said she didn't know how to find it from this direction. Aedan was convinced it would shave four days off of our trip. I appreciated his sense of haste, but definitely did not appreciate having to carry my own pack again - Bodahn's wagon couldn't follow this way, and he agreed to wait for us on the road east of Lothering. _Great, three weeks of walking with a pack on._

Aedan carried Morrigan's pack as she was currently flying overhead; to my surprise, without a word, Alistair gathered up mine and Leliana's and headed off after Aedan. Leli and I shared smiles, and followed behind him. _I might be angry with him, but I can't deny he's a gentleman._ The going was relatively easy - the thick forest meant little direct light hit the ground so the undergrowth was thin; I knew that wouldn't last, given what the Korcari Wilds were like.

 Over the course of a week, we seemed to be traveling progressively downhill, and the ground became swampier, requiring us to divert a few times as we came upon ponds of green, thick sludge that no one trusted to walk through. The walking was tough, but the nights were worse. Everyone was jumpy, expecting darkspawn to attack at any point; no one talked much, and even Leliana didn't sing. Aedan didn't want us making campfires unless we could be sure they were well-hidden, so we ate dried bread and jerky, relying on Wynne's magic to heat water for tea and porridge.

 The only thing to lighten everyone's mood was the playful banter that still went on between Aedan and Alistair. The two men bickered like brothers, and it was hilarious to listen to. On about the third day into the swamp, Alistair began questioning Aedan's directions. He claimed to have seen the same tree before, accusing Aedan of leading us in circles. I could see he wasn't serious, just enjoying getting a rise out of Aedan; Wynne, Leliana and I chuckled together as we followed behind the two Grey Wardens.

 When the first darkspawn ambush came, we were completely prepared. We fought off a large group without too much trouble - I almost laughed as I saw Shale launch a genlock into a group of archers instead of the boulders she normally threw. I stayed out of the fighting completely, earning a smile from Wynne. Afterwards, Aedan and Zevran were wandering through the darkspawn corpses making sure they were all truly dead, slitting a throat here or there for good measure. All of a sudden there was a high-pitched sound, and black shadows jumped out from nowhere. Shrieks – nasty, stealthy, sharp - darkspawn equivalents of Aedan. _Great._

 We were caught unawares, everyone's defenses down because we thought the fight was over, and I guessed that the Grey Wardens' senses were overwhelmed by the corpses around us. A long, black claw flickered faster than I could watch, and Zevran let out a scream and went down, hands cupping a bloody facial wound. Aedan recovered and threw a blade, which pierced through the shriek's arm, and followed it up with a slash and stab that dropped the amorphous shadow to the ground. Alistair took down another with his shield, and Sten shattered one that Morrigan had frozen solid. Panting, we were finally safe, and Aedan, Wynne and I rushed to Zevran's side.

 He was alive, though extremely bloody, and had a gash running from his forehead, barely skipping his eye, continuing down his cheek and then deeply into the flesh of his right pectoral. He was awake, and kept trying to talk, while Aedan shushed him and I pulled out the bottle of strong alcohol we all kept for such occasions.

 "Sorry Zev," I muttered, and Aedan put the handle of his dagger between Zevran's teeth. I poured the alcohol carefully into the long wound track, especially into the deeper part on his chest, while Wynne held the gaping edges apart to allow it to do its work. Zevran screamed, the sound louder and more painful than the shrieks, and I shuddered but kept pouring. He finally passed out, and I had to wonder how much pain would be required to make a Crow pass out. We all took a deep breath of relief as we finished. Wynne probed the wound with a finger, making sure nothing was left inside, and then started chanting.

 Watching healing still fascinated me. The skin knit together - _by magic!_ \- looking like someone had hit the slow rewind button on a DVD recording of the initial injury. By the time she'd healed together his chest, she was panting and pale. I forestalled her next attempt on his face, and pulled out a poultice, carefully applying the red liquid to the skin itself in the deeper sections, dabbing at it with a linen cloth in the shallower parts. The laceration closed, but left a pale scar across his forehead and cheek. Wynne allowed herself to be led away by Leliana, and Aedan and I were left sitting beside the former Crow, each of us gripping one of his hands.

 Aedan's face was tender, and I tried not to stare. I had wondered what was going on between the two rogues, but seeing that soft, wistful look on my brother's face, I knew: what had been happening was that Aedan was falling in love. I wondered if he knew. I hoped Zevran would wake and see his face like this - I didn't think he'd believe it otherwise. I glanced around, checking that no one else was looking; I knew Aedan wouldn't want to be seen being vulnerable. Alistair was shooting glances at me, but everyone else was busy; Wynne was resting against a boulder, eyes closed. I rolled my eyes at Alistair, and he flushed slightly, returning to repacking his gear. After a few minutes, Zevran stirred. I met Aedan's gaze to ensure he was okay, and then left them to have some alone time.

 I vaguely contemplated cuffing Alistair on the back of the head for the looks he'd been giving me, but managed to resist. _Probably thinks I’m worried about having a threesome later._ I checked on Wynne, who claimed to be feeling well. I dug through my pack until I found some not completely rock hard bread and some jerky - _God I was getting sick of jerky_ \- and distributed it to the rest of the group who were scavenging usable items off the dead darkspawn. Zev was awake by the time I made it back to him and Aedan, and he accepted a double portion as his stomach growled loudly.

 "Thank you, Sierra."

 "Huh? For what, Zev?"

 "Aiding me with my injury. I hear you were the unfortunate soul to pour the alcohol into the wound."

 "Well, honestly I'd do that for anyone, but you're welcome. And you know, sorry about that."

 "It had to be done. Sadly I hear I am left disfigured."

 I laughed. "Don't worry Zevran. Chicks dig scars."

 His confused expression set me giggling, and I decided not to explain. I offered him the tiny compact I carried so he could examine himself in the mirror. He tsk'd at the image, but didn't seem too concerned. _Maybe Aedan told him scars were sexy._ I giggled again and then offered a hand to haul the elf up. We got ready to keep traveling.

 When we camped that night, we decided that Morrigan should go no further towards Flemeth's. If Aedan was correct, we were three days from her hut, and we worried that she'd be aware of our approach. We also decided - and I agreed - that I should stay with her. Flemeth didn't know about me, and keeping my existence a secret could eventually grant us an unforeseen advantage. That said, I was disappointed not to go - I wanted to see her, silly as that was, but I also hoped she'd know something about who I was or how I'd gotten to Thedas. I convinced Aedan that they had to carry my spare armour and as much of the rest of my stuff as I could live without, in case I disappeared and reappeared with them.

 Morrigan and I were to circle around north and meet them on the opposite side of Ostagar, closer to where Bodahn should be waiting. Six days alone with Morrigan. _What was I thinking? I should have stayed with the wagon._ I was seriously concerned about my ability to stay in Thedas for six more days, when I realised I'd already been in Thedas for twenty consecutive days. My new record. It occurred to me that the times I spent in Thedas had been getting longer, while the returns to Earth had been getting shorter; I wondered what that meant. I had to admit that it didn’t bother me as I thought it should.

 Morrigan and I walked mostly in silence. I had a light pack to carry, but as I'd sent most of my stuff with Aedan it wasn't too cumbersome. Morrigan didn't want to fly lest Flemeth recognise her bird form, so she stayed on the ground. I was glad - even as poor company as Morrigan could be at times, it was better than walking alone. I worried we would run into another band of darkspawn, but she thought she could navigate us around them when there weren't two Tainted Grey Wardens with us to draw their attention.

 We made good time and even Morrigan was pleased - she thought we would end up at our rendezvous point in four days, not six. I was somewhat irritated that she had thought I would slow her that much, but had to admit she wasn't without reason. _Feeble._ I hated it. I was happy to prove her wrong.

 Every discussion I managed to pull Morrigan into felt like a victory. We talked about nothing important, but even getting her to comment on the weather (cold and damp, but not raining, fortunately) was a major effort most of the time. I asked if she had any way of telling where in the Wilds Fergus Cousland might have been - I recalled that he was nursed back to health by some of the Chasind - but she indicated there were dozens of tribes that moved around, and literally hundreds of hidden campsites where they could be at any given point. I gave up on my thought of finding Fergus with a sigh. I knew he'd come to Denerim once he was able.

 The four days passed reasonably well; setting up camp and having to wait around for two more was torture. I was worried about the rest of the group, awkward with the long silences between Morrigan and I, and constantly expecting to disappear and get dragged back to Earth. Traveling light meant I shared a tent with Morrigan, and somehow even though one of us was awake on watch at all times, being in the same tent allowed me to sleep.

 I tried practicing my templar abilities, but it was difficult without Wynne to practice on and Alistair to guide me. I didn't want to ask Morrigan for help - she wasn't the trusting type – but after a while she came over and offered to at least visualise spells and hold the mana so I could practice seeing it. It was interesting, I realised - the magic looked different when she used it than when Wynne did. I wondered if each mage was different, or if it was the difference between a Circle mage and an apostate. Or a healer compared to a shapechanger. I'd have to ask Alistair. And pay more attention next time we ran into an Emissary.

 By the evening of the sixth day, when they hadn't showed up, I had to concentrate to avoid panicking. I was almost starting to hope I'd disappear and reappear with them, just so I'd know that Aedan and Alistair were safe. Morrigan scoffed at me, reminding me the six days hadn't accounted for time to chat and fight with Flemeth or rest afterwards. It didn't help. Morrigan offered to take first watch, but I knew I wouldn't sleep anyway so I waved her off. I stayed up, by the fire, and for the first time wished I knew how to knit. Or whittle. Anything to keep my hands busy! At home I would doodle while thinking; I kept a notepad in virtually every drawer with a million different pens so I could doodle whenever I needed. With paper the way it was here...I was going to need something else.

 I traded watch with Morrigan sometime in the night and settled down to try to get some sleep. Every time I managed to doze off, I was assailed by images - Aedan and Alistair, dead or maimed; me, alone, in Thedas, forever. _Because that would just be my luck - the minute they die is the minute I'll finally be stuck in Thedas permanently._ I kept waking, gasping and shivering, and finally gave it up as a bad job. I crawled back out of the tent well before dawn. To Morrigan's credit, she didn't say a word, just sat beside me, shoulder-to-shoulder, and let me brood. She may not have understood why I was the way I was, but she was prepared to support me anyway. I contemplated hugging her. I didn't.


	29. Love and War

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Love and War**

 In the morning I was, unsurprisingly, exhausted. Morrigan and I packed up, just in case, but stayed put. I ended up dozing by the fire, not sleeping deeply enough to repeat the dreams from the night before. I had just shut my eyes, it seemed, when Morrigan was shaking me, one hand clamped over my mouth. I opened my eyes and saw her face, pale with fear. She hissed quietly in my ear.

 "Darkspawn. Scouting party, big one. Need to move."

 I nodded understanding, sitting up quickly but carefully, climbing to my feet, unsheathing my daggers as I followed the witch into the woods. I tried to step quietly, but it had never been my strong suit. I winced at every snap of branches underfoot. Morrigan led me away from the fire for a bit, then bade me climb a tree. She then changed into a bird and flew back towards our camp. I could hear vague sounds off in the distance, as I clung to the tree I was in. I assumed she must have changed into human form, made enough noise to draw the scouting party off, and then changed again to avoid capture. She flew back to me a few minutes later, landing in the tree nearby.

 "Everything okay?" I whispered nervously.

 Bird-Morrigan hopped around a little and cheeped softly.

 "Right. I'm an idiot. I'm going to assume it's a yes, and stop asking dumb questions. Hop around some more or something if I'm assuming incorrectly." I could have sworn that bird face was grinning.

 After a bit she took off and flew away again, I assumed to ensure that they hadn't come any closer. I waited, and waited, and waited. I wondered just how long I would stay stranded in the damn tree before climbing down and going to check on things myself. A long time, if I was honest with myself. _I'm no hero._

I was saved from having to contemplate it too much further by crashing noises down below. I peered down and saw, to my vast relief, Alistair hacking his way through some dense underbrush with his sword, the rest of the group following in the path he'd cleared. Morrigan landed in the tree again beside me.

 "Thank you, Morrigan." I whispered so the rest of the group wouldn't hear.

 I climbed down the tree like it was on fire and threw myself at Aedan, clinging around his neck, voice tight as I tried not to cry. He caught me and hugged me, seeming to understand.

 "Aedan, I swear to God if you ever scare me like that again..."

 "I know, I know. I knew when we camped last night you'd be beside yourself that we hadn't joined you. I'm sorry Sierra, but we were so tired...there just was no way for us to have come any faster. It's okay."

 "Never again, okay? We stay together. Please?" He hugged me tighter and I felt him nod.

 I finally let go, still slightly shaky. I turned and hugged Leliana, Zevran, and Wynne as well, smiling at Sten and earning myself a smirk, and then spotted Alistair. I was still awkward around him, still somewhat angry, but with Aedan's voice inside my head telling me that I avoided him, I couldn't not. I pulled Alistair into a hug, and enjoyed being held a little too much. I even gave Prince a little cuddle, and he licked my face. Shale I ignored, as usual.

 "So?"

 "It's done." _Ding, dong, the witch is dead. Sometimes you are so inappropriate, Sierra!_

Everyone felt able to travel a bit further, and we decided with a large scouting party around somewhere, moving was a smart plan. We decided to wait to repack our gear, so I walked easily with just my light pack. By the time we camped, Aedan figured we were probably another day from finding Bodahn on the road. We didn't spar, we didn't practice; we all sat, near each other, even Morrigan in our midst, and took solace from each other’s company. Clinging to Aedan's hand, inside our little tent, I felt the best I had in ages.

 *******

 I woke back in hospital again. My personal inventory was unchanged - no new tubes, no monitors. I was sharing a room with an elderly woman who was fast asleep in the dim light of early morning. I sat up, feeling only marginally sore and definitely not weak. It occurred to me that this had been my longest streak yet in Thedas, but I still experienced none of the atrophy the doctor had mentioned previously. I collected my clothes, personal supplies, and a towel and set off in search of a shower. I didn't run into anyone in the hallway, and just wandered about, feeling a bit like I'd been trapped inside 'The Twilight Zone' or something, but eventually found a room that appeared to be for patient use, that indeed sported a shower head. I locked myself in, showered, dressed, and as I leaned over to tie my boots, was just able to reach up and pull the help cord that was hanging from the wall as the dizziness hit and I pitched forward onto the wet tile floor.

 ********

 I woke in the same place I must have disappeared from. My bedroll was uncomfortable – I was laying on my armour, which I’d gone to sleep in – but otherwise it would appear as though I hadn’t moved. The bedroll next to mine was empty – Aedan was awake, somewhere. It was light out, and I wondered why everyone hadn’t packed up to leave yet. I could hear faint murmuring in the distance, and I sat up, changed into my armour, and headed out to find the source of the sound.

 I found Leliana, Wynne, Morrigan, Sten, Prince, Zevran, and Shale all relaxing in a clearing enjoying the sun. They chatted amongst themselves, and that had been the source of the noise I’d heard. They all stopped when they saw me, and then Leliana cracked up into a laugh. Zevran smirked and Wynne chuckled; even Morrigan and Sten looked amused. Prince came bounding over to lick my hand and promptly sat on my boot, as usual. I was bewildered.

 “What? And where are the Grey Wardens?”

 Leliana tried to stop laughing, succeeding only for a few words at a time, until Zevran finally took over.

 “Aedan is over there, by the stream.” He pointed to the south. “Alistair is over there, last I checked trying to chop down a tree with his bare hands. We thought it best to separate them before someone got hurt.”

 “Huh?” _I’m always so articulate._

Zevran actually giggled. “They had a, shall we say, difference of opinion about what to do when they woke to find you gone. Then each talked the other into changing their opinions. Much shouting ensued before we sent them off to have a chance to cool down.”

  _Oh God._ “Tell me.”

 “Initially Aedan was planning for us to all pack up and keep moving. Alistair refused, saying we could wait a day or two until you returned. They argued for a while, and suddenly they were each arguing the opposite side. Alistair admitted we should go and Aedan refused. That’s when the shouting really started.”

 I rolled my eyes, cheeks flushing slightly. _Alistair wanted to stay? For me?_ “Alright, give me a minute to get them sorted. Would you guys pack up for me?”

 They nodded, and I headed in the direction Aedan had gone, following the sound of running water. I found him sitting on the bed of a small stream, eyes closed, boots off and feet in the water. He jumped as I sank down beside him.

 “You’re an idiot, you know that, right?”

 He nodded, opening his eyes. His expression was that of someone who’d been through hell. I twisted, putting my arms around his shoulders, and pulled him into an awkward embrace. He rested his head on my shoulder and I felt him shudder.

 “I’m fine, Aedan. Nothing is going to happen to me. If anything, I’m probably safer there than here!”

 I could feel him nod but he didn’t pull away.

 “I don’t want to be left here alone. I don’t think I could do this if you disappeared and didn’t come back.”

 “You could, and you would. You’re stronger than that! And you’re not alone. You have Alistair, Leli, Wynne… Zevran. They wouldn’t let you be alone. We are all a family now, okay?”

 He moved to grab me in his arms. “I love you, dear sister.”

 “And I you, brother. Now put your boots on. I’ve got to go get Alistair, and we’ve got some walking to do. The werewolves aren’t going to cure themselves.”

 I found Alistair slumped on the ground near a large tree whose trunk had been badly abused, as Zevran had warned me. From the shattered branches scattered around, he had tried to use deadfall as an axe.

 “If you really needed wood so badly, there’s a hatchet in my pack, Alistair. This isn’t the most efficient way to chop down a tree.”

 He jumped up when he heard my voice, spinning towards me and crossing the clearing in a couple of huge leaps. He grabbed me and spun me once, dragging an indignant, startled shriek from my lips before he put me down and backed away hastily, cheeks flaming red.

 “I’m, uh, glad you’re back, Sierra. I really hate it when you disappear like that.”

 “You’re not the only one!” I grinned. “Now will you pull yourself together and come back to camp? We should get going.”

 Back at camp, Aedan and Alistair avoided eye contact with each other awkwardly. Everyone was standing, staring back and forth, no one knowing what to say. I finally sighed.

 “Alright. So. In front of everyone, so there’s no confusion next time. If and when I disappear again, you are all to keep going, okay?” I waved my hand impatiently when both Aedan and Alistair tried to object. “Both of you shut it. I will find you when I get back. The important thing is that you two end this Blight. Standing around a campsite arguing about it isn’t going to help.”

 They both flushed, looking sheepish. I pinned them both with stares until they relented and agreed, one after the other.

 “Now shake hands and make up.”

 Aedan shot me a dirty look. Alistair’s face got even redder. Neither man made a move.

 “I mean it! Shake hands and make up, or I swear to God I will smite both of you into oblivion. We don’t have all day!”

 This triggered a laugh from the peanut gallery watching, and finally I saw cracks form in both Wardens’ demeanours. Aedan finally chuckled and held out his hand, and Alistair surged forward to shake it. They grinned at each other, and Alistair clapped Aedan on the back as they headed towards where everyone else was packed and ready to go.

 “She’s scary. I think we should do as she says.”

 Aedan agreed, a little too quickly. “Too right. I’ll watch your back if you watch mine.”

 I stuck my tongue out at both of them in my usual mature fashion.

 After another two days of walking, we met up with Bodahn, all of us happy to be able to tuck our possessions into his cart. Except me, since I hadn’t carried mine the entire time. It was sweet of Alistair, but I was starting to feel really self-conscious about the whole thing. _How will I ever get better stamina and strength if no one lets me try?_ I lightened my pack, but continued carrying it just to make a point. Alistair gave me a look, but I ignored it and kept walking.

 We were a full two weeks of walking from where we expected to pick up traces of the Dalish. We ran into a few ambushes – bandits once, darkspawn a couple of times – as well as a group of Loghain’s men fighting with some of the local Bann’s men. We sided with the Bann’s men, and Loghain’s were driven off. Everyone seemed relieved we didn’t have to kill them all. We took the opportunity to spread the truth of Loghain abandoning the King and Grey Wardens at Ostagar a little further. We even ran into a group of Qunari mercenaries – Tal Vashoth, I remembered, and Sten seemed impressed that I knew the word. They seemed shocked when they saw we had a Qunari with us, and barely even tried to defend themselves. _Qunari are weird, Tal Vashoth or not._

Aedan started acting oddly part way through the journey. At first only I noticed it, but he was becoming somewhat distractible and jumpy. And then there were the times I woke in the night to find myself in an empty tent, and he wasn’t out by the fire, either. It didn’t take much for me to figure what he was doing. _I bet my boots Zevran’s tent is empty too!_ No one else noticed initially, but then I started seeing Wynne and Leliana giving Aedan strange looks. I finally pulled him aside one evening.

 “Hey, Aedan….”

 “Yes?”

 “I…look. You’ve been acting kind of odd lately. I know why. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset by it or anything. But I think you need to decide if you’re going to be honest about it in public. If not, you need to learn to hide it better.”

 “What are you talking about?”

 “Aedan. Really?”

 “But…how did you…”

 “Because you’re not very good at sneaking around? Sometimes I wake in the night and you’re not in our tent. You didn’t think I’d notice?”

 “Does everyone know?”

 “Don’t think so. But they’re going to figure it out. You’ve been distracted lately. You stare at Zev – a lot. Someone is going to put two and two together. My advice? Either just tell everyone, or learn to be a better actor. Otherwise you’re going to get caught with your pants down and it’ll be awkward for everyone.”

 “It doesn’t bother you?”

 “Why would it? You know I like him. And you’re a big boy now, you can choose who to be with.”

 “But…I thought you said that back home, some people frown on two men….”

 “Yep. I also said I thought it was stupid. What difference does it make to me whether my brother has a wife or a husband? If you’re happy, I am.”

 “I love you, Sierra.” He hugged me. “I’m not…quite ready to admit to it yet, not to everyone. Will you help me hide it better?”

 “Of course, brother dearest.”

 After that, Aedan got better at paying attention again. I covered for his absence from our tent the once or twice anyone noticed.

 One day Zevran approached me after dinner when I was sitting off a little ways, just quietly watching everyone in camp.

 "So, cara mia, it has been more than a month, yes? Since our deal?"

 "Oh, Zev. Really? Are you that keen to be self-destructive? I thought you decided you liked your life."

 "Oh, but I do, bella donna. What has that to do with anything?"

 "Well, I told you that if you asked me to have sex with you, I'd tell you why I wouldn't. I know you're not so foolish as to misunderstand how Aedan will react if you do such a thing." He jumped slightly and I grinned. "I'm not completely oblivious, Zev."

 "Ah, yes. Although...the conversation we had when I first met you implied that you did not know who would end up in a tent with whom, yes?"

 "True. The performance couldn't account for free will, I guess."

 "So you couldn't have known how things would be, with Aedan, when we discussed this."

 "Nope."

 "Which means there are other reasons for you to want to decline all..." he gave an arrogant hip thrust and gestured in his own general direction, "this. Yes?" I couldn't help but giggle, half-breathless with amusement. "I was just wondering...if you would tell me why. Even if I don't ask you to share a tent."

 "Oh, dear, the Great Zevran is feeling a little bit self-conscious? His ego cannot take an unexplained refusal to give in to temptation?"

 "Aha, so you do admit to feeling the temptation, then." He covered it well, but I could see the self-doubt behind his eyes.

 "Oh, Zev. Listen. You're a nice man, though you try not to show it sometimes. You're kind, and generally well-meaning when given any sort of choice. You're good looking, and I have no doubt are very talented in bed. Of course that's tempting!" He grinned, arrogance restored, and I laughed, but then my smile faltered a bit.

 "Let's do a little mental exercise, together, shall we? A game, if you will. I like to call this game 'what if'. It's fun to play in many situations. 'What if the sky were green, not blue? What if Maric hadn't died? What if Cailan survived the battle at Ostagar?'" He looked up, and I grinned. "I play this game a lot, as you can see. So let's play one together.

 "What if Sierra fell in love with Zevran? Because that is what it would be for me - I wouldn't be with someone I didn't love. And if you didn't love me, it wouldn't work either, so I'd have to assume you loved me too.”

 “Well, there’s our first problem. I don’t fall in love.”

 “Did you forget who you’re talking to? I know about Rinna, Zev. You’re as capable of love as the next person, and if you weren’t such a coward about it, you’d realise you’re already in love.” I stuck my tongue out for good measure, and Zev laughed, though his smile did not reach his eyes, I noted.

“Anyways. As I see it, at first, all is well. We travel with Aedan, we fight darkspawn. We kill Taliesen when he comes for you. We end the Blight. But then what, Zev? What happens after?"

 He looked at me speculatively. "We live happily ever after?"

 "Ri-ight. So...you're going to settle down with me, and what. Become a farmer?"

 "Well, no..."

 "What then. A merchant? A baker? No? So then, what? You become a self-employed assassin instead of a Crow? You know I'm not okay with that idea. You don't have to be an assassin anymore, and even if it doesn't bother you, you know how I would feel about it. Killing in self-defense makes me physically ill. Killing for money? Couldn't live with it."

 "And the other thing. We will face Taliesen, at some point. We will kill him. What do you think the Crows will do when he doesn't return? Do you think they'll just give up? I think they'll keep issuing contracts, keep trying to kill you for leaving them. And I doubt they'd have any qualms about using someone you love as a pawn, either as bait or to force your hand. I may be learning, but do you think I can defeat a Crow? Even the rawest apprentice could kill me. So you'd have to watch me, all day, every day, forever, and we'd either have to go on the run, which isn't a life I'd choose, or go to war with the Crows. And I'd be a liability in that sort of war. You would get killed trying to protect me, or I'd get killed by the Crows and you'd have to live with feeling like you failed me. And if, by some miracle, we won, Antiva would be destroyed by a power vacuum. So either something worse would step in, or you'd have to run the Crows, and we're back to me not being okay with that.

 "There's no happy ending for you and me, Zev."

 He was silent for a few minutes, and I watched his mask hide the thoughts that must have been going through his head.

 "I can't fault your logic." I nodded, relieved. "I'm impressed that you've thought that much about it, actually. You must have spent a lot of time finding reasons you cannot be with me. One might even think you had to work at it. I am flattered that you spent so much time trying to justify to yourself why it could not work. I hope it does not break your heart when I tell you that you and I were not meant to be, cara mia. I am sorry."

 I giggled, and his eyes flashed amusement.

 "As it turns out, I think I'll live. Besides, it would seem you have other...matters to occupy your mind. And your, um, hands. And things."

 He grinned. "And those other matters...might not be happy if I was to seduce their sister? More justifications. Please, bella donna, do not take it so hard."

 "I'll try. I'm sure with years of counselling, I'll get over it." We sat companionably for a few minutes, watching the rest of our group at camp talk and sit and eat. Alistair was cleaning his sword and shield, and I surreptitiously stared for a few moments before my gaze snapped back to Zevran. I watched his eyes follow Aedan, and saw Aedan stiffen as he felt Zevran's gaze on him. I smiled at the hungry look even his Crow mask couldn't hide. Zevran noticed and grinned back at me.

 "And who are your hands, and 'things', occupied with then, bella donna?"

 "Me? No one. You expect me to believe that you don't know every intimate secret about this group? If I was 'occupied', you'd be the first to know."

 "Ah, true. But I think your mind has not been as circumspect as the rest of you has." He shuffled over to sit beside me, looking where I was. "He is a wonderful specimen, I must admit. So naïve and awkwardly charming! And those shoulders, no?" I blushed and stammered, and he continued on, smirking. "Surely a future with him would not be so problematic for you, yes? You cannot still be holding a grudge. And he has not failed to notice you either, cara mia."

 "Zev! I'm not...He...no! We can't. Ask Aedan sometime, but I'm not having this discussion."

 "Tsk. So inhibited. It's not good for you, you know."

 I ignored him, and we sat quietly again; I closed my eyes, willing the flush in my cheeks to die down.

 "So I have to ask...if you see my future like this, why have you not tried to keep Aedan and me apart?"

 I looked at Zevran and smiled. "First of all, do you think that even if I tried, it would make the slightest bit of difference? I'm his sister, not his keeper." His grin widened. "Besides. The biggest objection I have to a future between me and you is that I think relationships require that the people involved be equals. And I don't mean in the 'I cook better than you' sort of things, I mean overall. You and I wouldn't be equals - I'd be a liability in your life that you would constantly have to protect. It would breed resentment for both of us. Aedan...is your equal. You could watch each other's backs. I think you could be good for each other, as long as you both commit to it. So the real question you need to ask is of yourself: are you committed to Aedan? Because if you aren't and you get him killed, I'll tell the Crows where you are myself."

 "Ah, cara mia, you may claim not to be a fighter, but I am much more worried about what you would do to me than the Crows."

 I laughed. "Good. But you didn't answer the question, amico mio."

 "Your Antivan is better than I would have expected, cara mia. Let's see if you can catch this one: io sono solo per lui."

 "Solo per lui?" _Only for him?_ I met his gaze directly, demanding. His face softened, and I saw the real Zevran peeking out under the mask, insecurities and all. He nodded, serious and scared. "How do I say brother in Antivan?"

 "Mio fratello."

 "Right. Well, mio fratello, when were you going to get around to telling him?" Zev's face cleared in relief and he laughed.

 "Well, with a sister's blessing, how could I wait?"

 "Hang on. I'm going to need to find somewhere to sleep tonight, aren't I?"

 "Only if I'm lucky, cara mia. Only if I'm very, very lucky."

 "Hey, if you call me cara mia, what do you call Aedan?"

 "Amore mio." His grin was sly.

 "He has no idea what that means, does he."

 "Not so much, no."

 I laughed and hugged him gently. "Go tell him."

 


	30. Were?  Where?

**Chapter Thirty: Were? Where?**

 I took over organising the tents when we camped after that, making sure that the one I shared with Aedan was near Zev’s, and both bordered the woods so they could sneak out together. It was cute. I contemplated trying to change tents again – Bodahn had found more canvas, we could do it – but I couldn’t think of a way to do it without arousing suspicion in everyone else. Both Aedan and Zevran were suddenly much more cheerful. I wasn’t sure whether it was knowing that I didn’t disapprove, or just that they were having more sex.

 The woods changed as we left the Korcari Wilds and headed into the Brecilian Forest. It was less swampy, greener, less foreboding. We had already discussed our strategy in dealing with the Dalish, and knew that their scouts could find us at any point, so we avoided talking about anything important. It was kind of fun, wandering through the woods. We chased off a few bears, but otherwise had nothing to worry about. We kept Zevran somewhere prominent, hoping they’d be less likely to shoot us if they saw him first. Aedan and Alistair huddled protectively around me, despite my insistence that they didn’t need to.

 A voice called out from the woods somewhere.

 “Turn back now, Shemlen, or face the consequences!” Startled, we all stopped walking, and were suddenly surrounded by two dozen angry-looking elves with bows drawn and pointed at us. They were all shorter and slighter than even Zevran, wearing armour in greens and browns that would blend into their surroundings.

 Aedan answered. “Hold, friend. We are Grey Wardens, and we need to speak with your Keeper Zathrian. We have information on the…sickness, currently afflicting several of your clan.”

 There was a whole bunch of chatter in Elven, which resolved into two voices, clearly arguing. Aedan glanced at me and I shook my head. _No, I don’t know Elven. How could I possibly?_ Finally one of them turned to face us and spoke in the common tongue.

 “We do not tolerate outsiders, Shem. Either leave peacefully, or we will be forced to remove you. It’s up to you.”

 “As much as I hate to say it, friend, you need us right now. And you may have us outnumbered, but I have two mages, two Grey Wardens, an Antivan Crow, a Qunari warrior, the best archer in Ferelden, a mabari war dog, and a sodding golem. If we’re going to do this by force, we win. Now take me to Zathrian before the golem gets cranky.”

 I had to give Shale credit for looking cranky very, very well. Or very poorly, depending on which side you were on, I supposed. She stomped forward, the ground trembling beneath her feet, right up to the one who’d spoken. She turned to look at Aedan.

 “Is it certain it doesn’t want me to squish this soft creature? It would make such a refreshing crunching sound when it pops.”

 Several of the elves backed away, leaving their leader pale-faced and shaking.

 “We will take you to Zathrian.”

 “Good choice.”

 We followed the leader, but couldn’t fail to notice that his comrades didn’t lower their weapons, keeping them trained on us until Zathrian dismissed them. The Keeper was polite, on the surface, but clearly deeply suspicious of us. He seemed very, very tired, and I almost felt sorry for him. Until I remembered the werewolves.

 We had discussed our options, and no one was okay with us allowing the werewolves to slaughter the elves, but we were equally uncomfortable slaughtering the werewolves. Wrong had been done on both sides, but it began with Zathrian and his need for vengeance, and we had agreed that one way or the other, he needed to end it. Aedan planned to try to talk to him alone, and then call on me to back him up as a ‘seer’ if he couldn’t convince him to voluntarily end the curse. If we were lucky, we might not even have to go into the forest.

 Once Zathrian agreed to speak with Aedan, we were given leave to explore their camp. I decided to aid in my ‘seer’ reputation by going to visit the halla caretaker, looking into the eyes of the unhappy animal and then ‘mysteriously’ coming up with the solution – to check her mate for injuries. The elf was embarrassingly grateful and I hurried to decline any reward. Wynne offered to aid the Keeper’s First, Lanaya, in trying to heal their wounded men. Otherwise we gathered in a small group near the large campfire and tried to look non-threatening. I asked around about Aneirin, and was able to confirm for Wynne that he was alive and well.

 After probably two hours of talking inside the Keeper’s Aravel, Aedan finally emerged. One look at his face and I knew he hadn’t been successful. He gestured to me, and we stepped into the trees, whispering to avoid being overheard.

 “He’s too angry. I’m not getting anywhere. He’s raving about wanting them all dead. Think you can do anything?”

 “I’ll try. Listen, I’ve got an idea, but it’s going to suck for you. I want to get him talking about his children, about wanting revenge. The most expedient way I can think of to do that is to tell him the story of your family and Arl Howe. Perhaps he can see that there is life after something terrible like that. But…it means dragging you through it, making you talk about it. If I can’t get to him any other way…do you want me to try?”

 His expression was pained, and I wished I hadn’t asked, but he slowly nodded. “If that’s what it takes to avoid slaughtering those creatures, then yes. Try it.”

 I hugged him and kissed his cheek softly, and then we went back to the Keeper’s Aravel. Aedan introduced me and I nodded my head respectfully.

 “This Grey Warden expects me to believe you are some sort of seer.”

 “Yes, Keeper.” I was going for humble. Apparently I failed.

 “Don’t you ‘yes Keeper’ me. You want me to believe, you’re going to have to work harder than that, girl.”

 “Very well. Allow me to be brutally honest. You are a several-centuries-old blood mage. When you were a young man, your son was killed, and your daughter raped and left for dead by bandits. You were so enraged when she killed herself rather than give birth to the child of rape that you cast a spell using your own blood. You summoned a spirit and bound it to the body of a wolf, basically inventing lycanthropy. And as long as the curse survives, so do you. Conversely, as long as you survive, so does the curse. The initial wolf you created, who went by the name Witherfang, is now the Lady of the Forest. She, and many of the werewolves, have become sentient again. They are aware of their curse and it causes them agony to remain so, but they refuse to return to their beast-like state.

 “They ambushed you looking for revenge for causing their curse. They thought it would force you to talk to them. The Lady wishes only for death, and the only way for that to happen is for you to decide to release her – and the rest of the wolves – from the curse. Doing that will kill you and her, but the alternative is several of your clan will become werewolves, just like Danyla already has. And shame on you for lying to Athras, by the way. He deserves the truth.

 “Your anger, your need for vengeance, is what is responsible for all of this tragedy. Do you really think your daughter would want all of those people to remain cursed? Would she wish those of your own clan to become so? The men who violated her, who killed your son, have been dead for centuries. Most of the werewolves in this forest were innocents who got caught, and have done nothing to wrong you or to deserve this fate. Unless you release them, more will perish. And all for what? To preserve your own life? To exact vengeance on the world at large for how miserable you are?

 “You would have us kill Witherfang to try to fashion some sort of potion for your own clan members to prevent them from changing. Which may or may not work, let’s be honest. The Lady would see everyone released from this curse, including all of your friends. Which of you is seeing things more clearly? It is not you, Zathrian.

 “If you released the curse, you could join your family with the Creators. Feel at peace again. Wouldn’t that be worth it on its own? Vengeance is a hollow thing to live for. In all these centuries you’ve never found a way to move on. Don’t you think it’s time?”

 I didn’t stop, even when his angry veneer cracked and he was left sobbing, broken. He had caused centuries of tragedy. He needed to hear it. And if I was lucky, breaking through meant I wouldn’t have to drag Aedan through hell.

 He begged to be left alone, and we complied. I stopped, just outside, shuddering. For all that I despised what he’d become, I also understood it. And no matter how necessary, watching someone break isn’t much more pleasant than watching them die. Aedan put his arm around my shoulder and we headed over to join the rest of the group. They looked at me speculatively, and all I could do was shrug.

 We set up our tents out of the way but within the Dalish camp, where Lanaya indicated. Aedan and Bodahn went to chat with the craftsman, and I sat by the fire, trying to let the normal chatter and companionship of camping together soothe me. The Dalish offered for us to join them in their meal, and I managed to convince everyone to just not tell me what the meat in the stew was. It was delicious. Once we had been accepted, everyone in the Dalish camp was at least polite. They seemed a little freaked out about Zevran, but given that he probably offered to have sex with half of them, it was an appropriate response.

 We slept the night in our little area, apart from but within the Dalish camp. In the morning, Zathrian summoned Aedan and me. He had collected himself, and was back to the arrogant attitude that I disliked from the game, but at least he’d apparently thought a bit about things. He agreed to go into the ruins with us and talk to the Lady of the Forest, and if everything was as we said, he would agree to end the curse. My biggest concern was how we were going to avoid slaughtering our way through the werewolves’ ranks. I doubted they’d respect a white flag or similar gesture, but hoped that perhaps if they saw Zathrian with us, we could convince them to talk. We agreed to wait one more day while he made arrangements with Lanaya and the rest of his clan, and set out in the morning.

 A celebration of sorts was held that night, a goodbye party. It was the closest they could come to the descriptions of ancient elven ceremonies used prior to an elder going into prolonged hibernation. I vaguely recalled from a codex entry that in ancient Arlathan, elves were immortal and so after centuries they would go to sleep for a long time. I wasn’t clear on the concept, really, but didn’t want to risk causing offense by pressing for details. Zathrian admitted to the clan what he had done, creating the curse that had led to the werewolf problem they currently faced. He received much more sympathy and understanding than I expected. We tried to stay out of their way, huddling together in our little area, but couldn’t help but hear the singing. I couldn’t understand the words, but it was haunting and beautiful. I could see Leliana trying to memorise what she was hearing.

 We left early, hiking into the woods. I was impressed that we didn’t really have to slow our usual pace so Zathrian could keep up. We were ambushed by a couple of small groups of darkspawn, and my job was to stand back and keep Zathrian out of the fight. He mostly looked nauseous every time we encountered them, so keeping him away wasn’t tough. We ran into Danyla almost immediately after leaving camp. She begged us to kill her, but Zathrian managed to convince her to hold on a little longer. I was happy; it bothered me, in the game, killing her when I knew we would end the curse.

 Zathrian knew how to magically lower the barrier to the inner forest, and was able to pacify most of the sylvans we came across, which meant no messing around stealing acorns from mad hermits or killing tree spirits. We came across a couple of groups of non-sentient werewolves, which we were forced to fight, before we finally ran into Swiftrunner.

 None of us were quite prepared for the level of animosity the enormous creature showed towards Zathrian, and by extension, us. It took all of Aedan’s, Zathrian’s, and my persuasive abilities to even make him contemplate having a discussion. I think the only thing that might have worked in our favour was that I knew enough details about the Lady, and the ruins the werewolves had claimed, to convince him the Lady might want to talk to us. He agreed that if we all stayed put, under the watch of some of the other werewolves, he would go ask the Lady what she wanted him to do. I thought it was quite reasonable, though I knew the others were grumbling about one more delay. If it meant the difference between killing dozens of unlucky cursed souls, I was willing to wait.

 Swiftrunner warned us it would take a day or so for him to return to us, so we settled in and made camp. Zathrian was enraged at the interruption, but between Aedan and I, we managed to keep him calm. We built a fire, and invited the werewolves to join us for our meals, to Zathrian’s horror. He retired to his tent early, and we all breathed a slight sigh of relief. I wandered a little ways away and sat near a tiny creek, picking long grasses from the bank and working to soften them up.

 "So I've never really apologised for...what I said. Before." Alistair sat beside me, and I smiled at him before returning to working on the belt I was braiding.

 "I noticed that, actually."

 "I'm sorry, Sierra. I didn't mean to imply...that is, I just...I know it's not even any of my business anyway, but I..."

 "...have no idea how to get your foot back out of your mouth?"

 "Yes. That's it, exactly."

 "I know. And it's okay. I over-reacted, and it wasn't really even because of you - it's because of something your brother said back before we left Redcliffe on the way to Haven. I'm not angry with you, Alistair."

 "That's a huge relief. Thanks. And I am sorry." I smiled in forgiveness, and his eyes lit up a little. "Hey wait. My brother? What did he do?"

 "It doesn't matter now."

 "Is this what Aedan was asking you about that day?"

 "I'd rather just drop it, really."

 "No way. I want to know. Please?"

 "What's the point? You'd just be mad, it'd make things awkward, because frankly you're a terrible actor, and I'd really rather you didn't try to kill the King, so..."

 Alistair gave me puppy dog eyes, and I sighed. "...suffice it to say he suggested I become his mistress, and I declined. He didn't take it well, and accused me...of exactly the same things you did. I informed him of the error of his ways, and now it's behind us."

 "You're right, I will kill him. Or perhaps just maim him, and leave him for everyone to laugh at."

 "Hypocrisy much?" He grimaced, but I grinned to soften the blow. "Go ahead, at your own peril - you're the heir to the throne, you know. You kill him, and you'll have to become the King."

 "That’s…I…Argh! Let him have it then. He just better stay away from you..."

 "Down boy. Take a breath." I grinned, and he gave me a sheepish smile in return. "I'm just the first woman to say no to him, I think. He didn't know how to deal with it. I don't even think he ever even wanted me, it was...the principle of the thing. He gets it now.

 "Duncan...is like a father to me. I never had a father, and he's a little like the ones from my childhood fantasies. The whole 'relationship' was cooked up to keep Cailan away."

 "Sierra, you-"

 "You know about Cailan. Teagan - well, he's sweet but he's not my type. The closest I ever came to him was dancing that one night. And even if I were inclined, that nightmare sister-in-law of his would make me change my mind." He chuckled. "Plus he's too old for me."

 "You don't have to-"

 "Aedan is my brother. And I don't mean he's 'like a brother'. He actually is mine. Did you know we are exactly the same age? To the day. Bryce Cousland called me 'daughter', back in the temple. We think we were supposed to be twins, which is maybe why I'm here? I was accidentally born in the wrong place. I don't know. It would explain a lot, for sure."

 "So you’re a Cousland, then?"

 “Sort of, I suppose. But no one is going to believe that. Aedan’s parents die, and suddenly some crazy chick emerges from the woodwork trying to claim kinship? I’ll be seen as an opportunist trying to cash in on Aedan’s grief. And I may act like a noblewoman, but my lack of knowledge of protocol and things is sure to be a give away.”

 He thought about it, and shrugged. “You’re Aedan’s twin? Ha, I’m older than you.”

 "How old are you?"

 "Not telling!"

 I smacked his arm and carried on. "Aedan asked me to share his tent to protect me from Zevran. A brother protecting his sister's virtue. Though, to be honest, I'm not sure if he was more scared of Zev trying to worm his way into _my_ bedroll, or _his_."

 Alistair laughed. "Stop, Sierra. You don't have to tell me. It's none of my business. I know that."

 "But I want to tell you, Alistair. I wanted to back then, even, I just...well, you didn't ask quite the way I'd hoped and I lost my temper. But I want you to know."

 "Why?"

  _Oh boy._

"It matters to me what you think of me. I don't want you to have doubts about me." He studied my face, and I looked down, letting my hair hang to hide the blush. "As for the others, well...I prefer men, so Leli and Morrigan and Wynne are out. Shale, most days I wish we could de-activate again. Sten is...Sten. Enough said. And as for Zevran..." I smiled fondly.

 "Zevran is a nice guy. He's funny, and attractive, and he is actually loyal once he decides to be. But he's also mercenary, doesn't see what's wrong with assassination as a career, and only cares about the big picture as it relates to him. He's committed to ending the Blight, but only because Aedan is. And being near him is eventually going to get dangerous. The Crows won't ever stop hunting him, and I am not willing to live my life like that - either on the run or at war. I wouldn't be with him even if I did see him that way. He is my friend, I hope, but nothing more.

 "Besides, he's also rather...taken."

 "Taken with what?"

 "Not with, by. And not what, whom. And if you haven't noticed by now, I'm not ruining it for you."

 "Huh?"

 I giggled. "Nevermind."

 His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "And me?"

 I looked up, startled, and quickly looked away again, hiding behind my hair. "Alistair..."

 "I've heard you say that you'll never be with anyone from Thedas. You've given your reasons for the others; I'm curious what your reasons are with me. I'm neither your brother nor father, I'm not an assassin, and while I may be in danger, anyone with me wouldn't be. I'm not a woman, a golem, or a Qunari. So...why not me?"

 "I can't-"

 "Please? I really need to know. Please tell me?"

 "I'm trying, but you keep interrupting me!"

 He looked sheepish again.

 "It's not about you, Alistair. Between us...it's about me. I can't..." I struggled with the words. "I can't do that to you. Look. I’m not so arrogant to assume that you would even want to be with me. But even if I knew, absolutely, that you did...I don't know how long I have here. Maybe I can stay, but I could be yanked back any time, never to be seen again. I don't know who I am, where I belong. I'm still half convinced I'm just crazy and you don't really exist. If you fall-" I swallowed thickly. "If you fall in love with me, what will it do to you if I disappear and never return? What would that do to me?" I didn't add the concern about what would happen to me after his Calling came. It hurt too much to even think about it.

 "And besides. You may not want to be, but you're the heir to the throne. Anything happens to Cailan, and it's all you. You need to marry someone who can provide noble heirs to the Theirin line. Legitimate ones, with noble mothers everyone recognises. And even if somehow you weren't, it hardly works out well for you politically if I disappear in the middle of a dinner party. And I don't think you having a relationship with some unstable, universe-hopping pseudo-templar will go over well in Weisshaupt, do you?"

 "So the answer is, I can't. Even assuming you had the slightest desire to be with me, I can't." I reached up and touched his face, my finger over his lips, preventing him from saying anything. I smiled sadly, stood up carefully, and walked away, leaving the finished belt behind.

 I carefully avoided being alone for the rest of the evening, denying any chance at getting drawn into the same conversation with Alistair again. I felt his eyes on me from across the campfire and tried not to return his stare. I crawled into bed without a word, letting a couple of silent tears trickle down my cheek. When Aedan came to bed, he had no idea what had happened, but seemed to know something had; he held my hand, and didn’t sneak out to be with Zevran. _Or maybe he just thought the werewolves would try to eat him if they caught him sneaking…_

 


	31. Necessity Rules

Chapter Thirty-One: Necessity Rules

 Before lunch the next day, a very anxious-looking Swiftrunner was back. He was told to bring us to see the Lady, as I knew he would. He added his own stipulation though – we had to have our weapons bound or leave them behind. I knew it wouldn’t be a huge hindrance – they’d never find all of Zevran’s daggers, Shale didn’t use a weapon anyway, and the two mages were hardly helpless while empty-handed, but Sten, Alistair, and Leliana were all less than thrilled with the prospect. But Zathrian pointed out the hypocrisy – we were asking him to go literally into the wolves’ den, because we supposedly trusted the werewolves; was it really that strange that we be asked to show a sign of that faith? I was vaguely concerned about Zathrian turning on us, but allowing that thought to show would only end us up in worse trouble. I tied my daggers into their sheaths as directed, with some sort of thin twine Swiftrunner presented.

 Once ready, we followed Swiftrunner deeper into the forest. When we finally came to the ruin, we were brought through a side tunnel directly into the Lady’s domain, bypassing the undead, spiders, and the dragon in the ruins altogether, to my relief. Though I wondered if we should go in to the rest of the ruin later, since I knew that dragon had quite a hoard, and somewhere down there was a way for Wynne or Morrigan to learn to become an arcane warrior. The number of werewolves had increased as we got closer and closer to the Lady, and they all flanked us, low-pitched growls echoing through the hallways. None of them spoke, they just watched us, and I couldn’t tell if the stares were hostile, hopeful, or just curious.

 Finally we were led to a large, open room that had been breached by nature in multiple places. Roots projected through the ceiling, and a few trees even grew in drifts of dirt that had collected in the rubble. Sylvans, I remembered, though I hoped we wouldn’t have to learn that the hard way. We were ushered into the centre of the room, surrounded by huge, furred, growling werewolves. Suddenly they parted to allow a beautiful, naked woman to approach us. Her skin was an odd, pale, almost grey colour, and was crisscrossed with vines, so dark a green they appeared black, which barely covered her nipples and obscured her sex. Alistair blushed a deep crimson and turned away; Sten looked uncomfortable and also averted his eyes. By contrast, Aedan met her eyes with equanimity and Zevran didn’t even try to hide his appreciative look.

 The werewolves all slightly bowed as she walked between them, and the growling quieted; even I was a little bit awed at the aura of authority that surrounded the Lady of the Forest. Her voice was sweet and melodic but undeniably alien. She spoke briefly with Aedan, and then approached Zathrian. His face was guarded, and the growling began again as she got close to him, but to everyone’s amazement, she walked right up to him, reached out and pulled him into her arms. A gasp echoed around the room, the werewolves who’d spent so long hating Zathrian all apparently gob-smacked. I saw Zathrian’s face falter and then he began sobbing before I averted my eyes. Everyone moved subtly away to allow them some privacy, which was also something I didn’t expect. _Amazing_ _– when you don’t slaughter half of them to reach her, they’re a little more understanding!_

 We huddled together, all of us still somewhat uneasy, eyeing the werewolves and Zathrian with the Lady. The latter two were deep in discussion, to my continued surprise. The werewolves were also uncertain, milling around and talking in deep gravelly voices amongst themselves. I strolled over to a toppled marble column and sat down, Prince at my heels. A werewolf watched me do it and strode in my direction. I wasn’t sure whether I’d violated some unknown rule about sitting in the Lady’s presence, and debated whether to spring back up or remain where I was. Before he could reach me, Alistair was in front of me, sheltering me from whatever the wolf was going to do. He held his hands out, palms forward.

 “Easy, friend.” He nodded towards the Lady of the Forest. “That is your lady; this is ours. Leave her alone.” As he spoke, Aedan, Zevran, Leliana, and even Sten and Morrigan came over to join him, shielding me with their bodies but keeping their postures non-threatening. Prince growled, low and threatening. _I guess he didn’t get the memo about not picking fights!_ I was horribly embarrassed, and extremely pleased all at the same time. The werewolf growled, but backed off when Swiftrunner barked at him. I couldn’t understand the language, but the meaning was clear in any language. He tucked his tail behind him and turned, slinking away.

 Aedan sat himself beside me, Leliana on the opposite side, and Alistair crouched in front of me. The rest stood around in seeming random positions, but the tension was still quite obvious. My companions were a little over-protective, and I was mortified to discover how safe and warm inside that made me feel. Even when I’d just shot down Alistair’s advance…

 Finally Zathrian and the Lady rejoined the group. We all stood to meet them. All traces of Zathrian’s arrogance were gone, and he stood, slightly stooped, face drawn. He looked…old.

 “The Lady has convinced me that she wishes only to be allowed to die. My hate blinded me, for so long…I knew nothing else. It is time to let that go.” He turned to us. “Thank you, Grey Wardens, and you, Seer. I will prepare the ritual to end my curse. Please…please tell Lanaya that I have great faith in her, and that I know she will be a better Keeper than I have been these past centuries?”

 We nodded, solemnly, and he stepped to the centre of the room, sitting down and closing his eyes. The Lady did a quick circuit among the werewolves, not talking, but touching each one as she passed. When she reached Swiftrunner, she took his shoulders in her hands, and he bent so his forehead touched hers. They stayed like that for a few moments, and we all averted our eyes, wishing we were elsewhere. She finally separated from the huge beast, and approached Zathrian. She shimmered, and her skin seemed to suddenly change, and where there had been a beautiful, if unearthly woman, now there was a large, white wolf. It padded over to Zathrian, then settled onto its belly, head resting on Zathrian’s knee. He opened his eyes one last time to lock eyes with the creature, then raised a small, wickedly sharp dagger and dragged it across the palm of his opposite hand.

 The usual tingly crawly sensation went up my spine before he did it, and Alistair and I traded looks. There was a flash of light, and when our eyes cleared, all that remained of Zathrian and the Lady were bones. The next thing we noticed was that all the werewolves had changed back into human form. They were naked, more men than women, and a variety of ages from teens to elderly. They talked amongst themselves for a bit, as we silently watched. Some knew they had family to go back to, while others could be sure their families were either dead or had moved on; those with nowhere to go got sorted out into small groups accompanying those who had homes and agreed to take them; soon, all of the former werewolves had grouped up and made their way out of the ruins. Several pledged to go to Redcliffe and join the forces we hoped to gather there to combat the Blight, and I was impressed.

 We were finally alone in the crumbling ruins. We sat to chat about our options, including confronting the undead and the dragon in the ruins, or just leaving. Aedan was reluctant to leave the dangerous creatures lurking down there in case some innocent stumbled on the place in the future, and so with a sigh we all agreed to clear the ruin out. I climbed to my feet, stopping Alistair before he could walk away from me.

 “I’m your Lady?”

 He flushed slightly, face defensive. “Yeah, well, you are, whether you like it or not. You let Aedan lead, you even make a good show out of it, but we all know we’d follow you in a heartbeat if you contradicted him. And you…remind all of us what we’re fighting for. It’s easy to lose sight of that when you’re in a dark place, surrounded by darkspawn and dragons and abominations.”

 His shoulders squared as he turned to walk away, and it was my turn to be left, standing with my mouth hanging open, looking ridiculous.

 The group gathered around the doors to the rest of the ancient ruin, and I finally joined them, at the back, daggers out. Going backwards through the ruin felt weird, and of course, the first thing we encountered was a room full of undead and an arcane horror. I could feel that horrible, itchy, magic aura from the room next to it, so we were prepared; Alistair drained most of its mana, Morrigan drained a bit more, and then Aedan, Zevran, Sten, and Alistair hacked it to pieces. Once it was dead, the rest of the corpses were pretty easy to defeat.

 A few more rooms of corpses followed, and, clumsy as they were, I was even able to help out a little bit. I got yelled at by Wynne, but ignored her. Alistair was harder to ignore – he took me by the arm and shouted at me angrily. I agreed to stay back with a sigh. We found the room with the odd phylactery containing the spirit that taught the Arcane Warrior abilities. Wynne stepped up and held the phylactery. It was creepy, actually, to watch – her eyes rolled back in her head, her body lifted up slightly as though she hung from a thread on the ceiling, and she convulsed for about a minute. When it was done she slumped down, and Aedan caught her, easing her to the ground. She regained consciousness after a minute, and claimed to feel fine. With no one else who could heal to check her out, we were forced to believe her. She claimed to know all about Arcane Warrior magic now, and we watched her destroy the phylactery on the nearby altar.

 Next we ended up killing a shade in the shape of an elven woman, and managed to complete the elven ritual without the tablet, since I knew the steps from the wiki. The Juggernaut armour was impressive looking, and fit Alistair perfectly. I was relieved that the pieces were actually all together; apparently the hide and seek out in the ruins with tombstones was just for entertainment value.

 There were more skeletons, and then eventually a set of stairs leading up towards the surface. We knew the dragon was at the top of the stairs, and Aedan convinced me to wait at the bottom until he called. I have never been known for my patience, and this was no exception. I stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking balefully up, anxiously fidgeting. _I’m going to take up nail biting, at this rate!_

 I heard the clashing of metal, the roaring of a dragon, and knew the fight was on. It lasted for an eternity. Frustrated and afraid, I couldn’t wait; I took the stairs two at a time as I raced to the top to check on my friends. Barging through the door, which someone had closed, the scene before me was something out of my worst nightmare.

 The air smelled like sulfur and made my eyes water. The source of the smell, an enormous fire-breathing dragon, was in the middle of the room surrounded by my companions. Off to my right, Wynne was down with blood trickling from a wound in her head. Her eyes were closed, and I didn’t know if she was unconscious or dead. Sten, Shale, and Alistair faced the dragon, who would alternate snapping and clawing at one then another. Zevran and Aedan were nowhere to be seen. Leliana was back in a corner, firing arrow after arrow, but most of them just bounced off the creature’s thick hide. Morrigan stood over Wynne’s prone form, alternately shooting frost spells to slow the dragon down and keep the fire from causing too much damage, and trying to rouse the elderly healer at her feet.

 As I watched, the dragon spun, its tail arcing through the air, connecting with Shale and tossing her towards Sten. Both went down in a tangled pile of limbs and rocks, and I briefly wondered if Sten could survive being landed upon by Shale. Stopping the turn, Alistair was left alone facing the dragon. And then I realised it was taking a deep breath, which I could only assume foreshadowed a blast of flame; Alistair, being the only nearby target, had nowhere to run. He was going to burn. He raised his shield, but even from across the room I could see that his shoulders had slumped; he knew he couldn’t survive.

 It was like the world suddenly quit spinning, like time just…stopped. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could only stare helplessly at the man I was stupidly in love with and watch him die. Alistair spotted me, and smiled a slow, sad smile, and I felt my heart shatter into thousands of tiny pieces. I suddenly realised that everyone I’d ever cared about was in that room, and at least one of them was going to die. Something inside me snapped. I had not risked my life at Ostagar to save Duncan and Cailan for Alistair, only to watch him burn.

 And then suddenly time caught back up, and before I even had time to think, I was running. I pulled my daggers from their sheaths, and shouting at the top of my lungs, pelted towards the dragon, whose profile faced me. I waved my arms like a crazy person, trying to get the beast’s attention, and it seemed to work. Suddenly faced with a new adversary, the dragon’s head turned towards me. It seemed to be moving in slow motion, but I realised that was just my perception heightened by fear. Realising what I was up to, Alistair shouted something at me, but it was too late.

 The dragon’s mouth opened and a great gout of flame erupted from its maw. It started before the head was facing me, splashing harmlessly against the stone walls of the ruin, but as it continued to turn the heat grew more and more intense. I opened my mouth to scream in agony, but the air was so hot I couldn’t even draw a breath. I felt my skin start to burn, my armour blackening, and mercifully began to lose consciousness. The last thing I saw as I fell was Zevran climbing up the beast’s back, and Alistair leaping at the neck, digging his sword in and hanging on. And then everything went black.

 ********

I dreamt of home. I was quite sure it was a dream – I couldn’t look around, couldn’t sit up. How I could dream when I should be dead was beyond me, but apparently rumours of my demise must have been exaggerated. My doctor was there, trying to talk to me, but my mouth was full of cotton or something, and I couldn’t make any sound. _So this is what a lucid dream feels like_. I would have pinched myself but I couldn’t move. I tried to think of things that should wake me up – the smell of my own roasting human flesh, my fear of what happened after I passed out, the incredible pain I had felt, even tried imagining Alistair kissing me, anything to shock my mind into waking up. It didn’t work. My heart was pounding as I worried about my companions in Ferelden. _Not a good time to be sleeping, Sierra. Wake up!_

 I briefly wondered if I could be in the Fade again, but figured the answer must be no if I was able to have that coherent a thought. When I’d been in the Fade before, I’d felt very confused, unable to think clearly. This felt different.

 I tried concentrating on what my dream doctor was saying, but it was like I was hearing underwater; I caught every third or fifth word, and my lip-reading skills weren’t strong enough to fill in the blanks. He started shining a little tiny flashlight into my eyes – _ow!_ – and then proceeded to pinch my hands. I’d have screeched and pulled away if I was capable, but my arms felt like they were cooked spaghetti, which coincidentally had the density of lead. I couldn’t even twitch. But my assumption that this was a dream went out the window – I’d never dreamt of pain before, that I could remember.

 My eyes drifted closed, and when they opened again, Aedan was there. He looked afraid. He was shaking me, and I couldn’t understand him, but knew enough to guess he was calling my name. I still couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Wynne came into view, and Aedan was talking to her, arms waving in jerky gestures. Wynne’s face was calm, but the confusion was clear. She didn’t understand either.

 The next time I blinked, I was back on Earth. It was dizzying and confusing, and I wanted to cry. Maybe this was what I’d feared since first realising I was travelling to Ferelden – I was stuck somehow, between worlds. I’d never wake up again, never see Alistair smile or ruffle Aedan’s hair or tease him about Zevran…The one part of my body apparently under voluntary control was my eyes, and tears welled up before I could blink them away. I could feel them trickle down my cheek, but couldn’t brush them away. It seemed a major indignity, somehow.

 The doctor noticed the tears, and was immediately back in my face. I concentrated, and he finally tried to speak slowly and clearly.

 “Sierra, can you hear me?” He face-palmed. “Sorry, that was dumb. Listen, if you can understand me, blink once for yes and twice for no. Okay?”

 I slowly, deliberately blinked once.

 “Okay I just want to test our system. Lemme think…uh, is the sky purple?”

 I blinked twice. He smiled.

 “Excellent. Alright listen. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on – you started convulsing and your skin blistered, then cleared again a few minutes later. Now you’re not moving. Can you feel things?”

 I blinked once.

 “Huh. So, I guess…some sort of locked-in syndrome. I’ll have to try-“

 I interrupted with two emphatic blinks.

 “No? No to what? Not locked in?”

 “I…okay, I’m not even sure what to start asking, with such limited response possible. Do you understand what’s going on?”

 Two blinks.

 “But you don’t think it’s locked in syndrome.”

 Two blinks.

 “I…well I suppose you wouldn’t be able to blink if it was. Alright, well I’ll do some research. See what I can figure out. Are you in pain?”

 Two blinks.

 “Okay. Do you need anything? Hungry, thirsty, need to use the bathroom?”

 Three blinks.

 “Uh…oh. You need something, but none of those things?”

 One blink.

 “Um…are you cold? Need a blanket?”

 Three blinks.

 “Not a blanket? Something else?”

 One blink. He looked stumped. I wanted to scream. Something flickered behind his eyes. Enlightenment?

 “Oh, let me guess. You want your clothes on.”

 One very relieved blink.

 “Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

 I settled in to wait, and my eyes drifted shut again. _How can I be tired? All I’ve done is sleep._ When I woke again, I was in Ferelden. I was being carried, but I couldn’t turn my head to see who carried me. I recognised the ruins we walked through, and realised we must be leaving them, since we were heading through the werewolf lair and up the stairs. It made sense – with at least Wynne injured, and me unconscious, staying around as prey for spiders and undead wasn’t very appealing. I was desperate for the ability to look around, so I could reassure myself that everyone was safe. Whatever happened to me, I wanted to know. Sadly my prayers went unanswered, and the back of Aedan, in front of me, was all I succeeded in seeing. _At least he’s safe_. I closed my eyes and let the tears come.

 The next time I opened my eyes, I was lying on the ground, blue sky shining down on me _. Ferelden, still. Maybe I_ _’m stabilising again._ I was highly relieved to find myself able to turn my head. I felt weak, but at least capable of moving to some extent. On one side, there was nothing but trees, but the opposite side showed me Aedan’s sleeping face. I could feel his large warm hand gripping mine, and squeezed gently. His eyes popped open, and a huge smile broke out when he saw me looking at him.

 “Wynne! She’s awake!” He hollered across what I assumed was our camp, and then turned back to me. “How are you, sweetheart?”

 I tried to talk, but a croak was all I managed. “Water?”

 Wynne dropped down beside me, already prepared with a water skin. She carefully poured me a tiny mouthful of what tasted like the best thing ever, though my brain informed me it was just cold water. I swished enough to moisten the cotton balls filling my mouth, and then opened for more. After a few swallows, I was finally able to clear my throat and talk.

 “Wynne? You okay?”

 She smiled at me. “It’ll take a bit more than a head wound to keep me down, child.”

 I sighed in relief. “Alistair?”

 “Sleeping right now. But he’s fine otherwise. You saved him, Sierra. He carried you out of that nightmare place, if that tells you how well he is.”

 “Good.” I smiled dreamily. “Sleepy.”

 “Rest, child. You’re safe and all is well.” She stood, and the last thing I heard before I fell back asleep was her saying “I need to go check on Morrigan. Stay with her, Aedan.”

 


	32. Road to Recovery

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Road to Recovery**

 I woke with the memory of what Wynne was saying as I fell asleep. What was wrong with Morrigan? Had something happened as they exited the ruins? I groaned as I sat up, and immediately felt an arm wrap around behind me, supporting me.

 I turned towards the source of the support. “Aedan? Wha…” I cut off. It wasn’t Aedan with his arm around me. It was Alistair. His handsome face looked down at me, closer than I’d ever been, and I was momentarily struck dumb. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

 “Your eyebrows are gone.” _Oh, smooth, Sierra. Why not just ask him if you can have his babies while you’re at it?_

 Said badly singed eyebrows were raised, and he smirked slightly as he responded. “Ah, so that’s why you did it. Couldn’t stand to see me looking silly without eyebrows?”

 I was saved from having to reply to this by the timely arrival of Wynne and Aedan. Alistair backed off and let Wynne check me out, while Aedan supported me and fussed over me.

 “How do you feel, Sierra?” Wynne gave her professional, bland smile as she checked my pulse.

 “Weak. And hungry. Like I ran a thousand miles and haven’t eaten in a month. Where are we?”

 “We’re still in the Brecilian Forest, on our way back to the Dalish camp. What you are feeling is normal, given what you’ve been through the past few days.”

 “And what exactly have I been through? Oh, and what happened to Morrigan?”

 Alistair laughed. “You happened to her!”

 Wynne shot him a dirty look, and he shut up. “She’s fine. She…well, she’s insisted on learning a healing spell. And a mana rejuvenation spell. So you never have an excuse to do that again, or so she said. And she rather…overdid it, trying to learn. She’ll sleep for a while, but she’s fine.”

 I flushed. “For me? Wow. I’ll have to thank her. Once she wakes up, that is. You, uh, didn’t answer my first question. What exactly happened?”

 “You don’t remember?” Wynne looked concerned, and her hand went to my forehead.

 “I remember the dragon. Nothing after that.” Wynne, Alistair, and Aedan exchanged glances. “Now you’re freaking me out. Just tell me!”

 Aedan spoke. “Sierra, you…almost died. The dragon almost burned you alive. You distracted it enough that Alistair and Zev were able to kill it. Morrigan put you under with a sleep spell until Wynne recovered and could heal you, but then you wouldn’t wake up. We carried you out unconscious.”

 Alistair cut in. “And my eyebrows will grow back.”

 Wynne rolled her eyes at him. “Sierra, I very nearly didn’t get you back. We’re lucky my spirit seems to have taken a liking to you. I’m still not sure why it took so long for you to wake up, though. What, in Andraste’s name, were you thinking about, charging a dragon?”

 I felt a little bit guilty, looking at the concern written on my friend’s faces. I didn’t want to die, but given the choices I’d had…Ferelden needed Alistair. _I need Alistair. I just need him to live. Is that too much to ask?_

 They were all looking at me, Wynne’s expression concerned, Alistair’s now confused. _Oh, I’m supposed to say something?_ Aedan looked amused, like he knew where my mind had wandered to.

 “Um. Sorry?”

 I had no idea what the right answer was. Did I feel bad for scaring them all? Yes. Did I regret my actions? Not in the least. And I’d do it again, a thousand times, to keep any one of them alive. Especially Alistair. Not that I was hoping I’d have to. Suicide was never something I’d considered.

 “Just don’t do it again, Sierra.”

 “I can’t promise that, Wynne. If it comes down to it…if it’s life or death…I’ll do it again.”

 “You could die, child.”

 I shrugged. _I really don’t care. Huh._ “That’s a price I’m willing to pay. I’m…I won’t say expendable, that’s not what I mean, but…I’m not the important one, here. You guys are. If you don’t end the blight, a whole lot more people are going to lose their lives. If the cost of keeping you all alive is my life, then I accept that.”

 There was a veritable explosion of shocked, angry come-backs after that declaration, and Aedan behind me shook me slightly. Alistair stalked off, apparently too angry to even shout at me. Leliana came over, and when she overheard what I had said, she started in as well.

 “Hey. I didn’t save Duncan and Cailan for Alistair, just to watch him die instead. You might as well stop, because you’re never going to convince me it was the wrong thing to do. I’m grateful I survived – I don’t want to die, you know – but I won’t feel sorry for saving him.”

 I closed my eyes and let it wash over me, half-reclined against Aedan. I was still hungry, but the fatigue seemed more important, especially when fighting it meant listening to people scold me. It had the intended effect, but not in the way I expected – the scolding stopped, and all of a sudden everyone was falling all over themselves to make me more comfortable. Wynne did some sort of magic thing that tickled – some sort of diagnostic, like a CT scan, I guessed – and Leliana ran off to find me something to eat. I tried to eat it, but my arms were so tired that Aedan actually had to help me finish the soup. Afterwards, I was pleasantly muzzy and slumped back into Aedan’s arms, drowsing. Leli sang, something Fereldan for once, and it was nice just to relax.

 After a bit, Morrigan emerged from a tent and came over to the campfire. Her steps were slow, halting, and her posture stooped; she wasn’t feeling well, clearly. I struggled to sit up, and grabbed her hand once she sat nearby.

 “Morrigan, are you alright? I was worried when Wynne told me what happened.”

 She looked at me haughtily, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by the dark circles under her eyes. “I doubt that, somehow.”

 “No, I really was. I don’t wish for you to make yourself ill trying to learn new spells.” I squeezed her hand lightly. “Thank you. I know healing isn’t your preferred type of spell. I want you to know I’m grateful.”

 She studied my face for a moment, and finally nodded.

 I pitched my voice low, so that only Aedan and Morrigan could hear. “How bad was it, honestly? Learning from Wynne?” I almost thought I saw a smile twitch.

 “Let’s just say the old bat did not miss the opportunity to lecture me on how she has been trying to teach me healing since we met.”

 I winced. “Thanks for taking one for the team, Morrigan.”

 Her lips twitched again. “You are welcome. ‘Twas lucky it was you who was injured, actually – had it been the Chantry boy, I most certainly wouldn’t have bothered…or perhaps I’d have turned him into a toad when I recovered.” She said it loud enough that Alistair, just returning from wherever he’d stormed off to earlier, could hear; he tried to shoot her a dirty look, but wasn’t successful due to the audible gulp of fear. I giggled and Aedan snorted.

 “Morrigan! You do have a sense of humour!”

 Aedan’s comment solicited giggles from Leliana and me, and even Alistair smirked, though her joke was at his expense. Morrigan simply sniffed and turned to her own dinner, though I saw her lips twist wryly when she thought no one was looking.

 I dozed off, head on Aedan’s shoulder, with my friends around me, talking and joking around the campfire. As exhausted as I was, the only thing I could feel was contentment. When I woke, I was in a dark tent, and as always when I woke somewhere I didn’t fall asleep, I wondered who had put me there. It was the tent I shared with Aedan, though his bedroll was empty. I figured out why when I heard his voice, whispering outside.

 “No.”

 “Aedan-” Alistair’s voice was surprisingly forceful, even if pitched quietly.

 “I get it, Alistair. I do. But she’s not ready. She can barely feed herself. It’s going to have to wait.”

 They moved off together, and I sighed heavily once they were out of earshot. I wasn’t looking forward to the next private conversation with Alistair. I fell asleep again, thankfully not remembering my dreams.

 In the morning, we packed up and decided to try to head to the Dalish camp. At first I tried to walk; Alistair took my pack, as usual, and I smiled gratefully at him. It quickly became obvious, however, that even unburdened I wasn’t going to get very far. My feet were dragging before I’d gone fifty steps, and at one point I actually fell asleep on my feet, and collapsed, waking with a start when my face hit the dirt. Dreading what was next, I sat huddled into a ball. As I expected, Alistair shifted both my pack and his own to Sten’s broad shoulders, then reached down and picked me up. Again. I didn’t even protest; I knew I’d just be threatened with being thrown over Sten’s shoulder like so much luggage. At least the upside of being carried was that I could eat while we travelled; I found myself quite ravenous.

 We stopped for lunch so that Alistair could eat as well; his hands were sort of full, and I was far too embarrassed to even think about feeding him as he carried me. Afterwards, Shale approached me, and to my surprise, offered to carry me for part of the afternoon. I would have declined, but after carrying me for hours, Alistair was rubbing his shoulders and trying to stretch when he thought I wasn’t looking, and I couldn’t turn down the chance to give him a break, even as I acknowledged I’d be disappointed not to be cradled in his arms for a while. Instead of cradling me, like Alistair did, she placed me up on her shoulder, and then allowed me to brace myself with feet wedged into cracks in the stone.

 “Is this how Wilhelm used to force you to carry him?” I took the resulting rumble as a yes. “I’m sorry, Shale. I would never have asked you to carry me.”

 “I…believe It means that. I find myself feeling oddly grateful for being treated like a person, in this strange group.”

 “I can understand that. Although, you are a person, it should just go without saying that you be treated as such.”

 “I…would ask a question, if It would permit me.”

 “Of course. Ask me anything.”

 “It said….that I was once a dwarf. A female dwarf.”

 “Yes. Shayle, a warrior of House Cadash. You volunteered to be made into a golem to try to save your Thaig.”

 “Does It know…why golems were created?”

 “To fight darkspawn. A long time ago, the Dwarven Kingdom was much larger than it currently is, covering hundreds of miles underground, with roads leading between each Thaig. Then the darkspawn came, and many of the Thaigs were overwhelmed. Those who could, fled eventually to Orzammar. Caridin created the Anvil of the Void to create golems – the ultimate weapon against darkspawn. It started with volunteers, like you, but then the King started forcing criminals and his political enemies into it too. Unfortunately, the golems required activation rods to function, and as the dwarves fighting with them died, the golems became deactivated.”

 “And how did I end up property of _him_?” The last word was hissed.

 “That I don’t know. I can only assume at some point he entered the Deep Roads and found you and your activation rod. Shale…why did you decide to believe me now? When I tried to tell you before…”

 “I…in the temple. Where we found the ashes of the squishy ones’ prophet? I met…myself, I think. My dwarf self.”

 “Oh! I wondered what happened to everyone.”

 “And It has not pried into everyone’s visions? I find myself surprised.”

 “Yeah, yeah, I’m nosey. I know. But I figured if no one mentioned it, I was best to leave it alone. I didn’t want to talk about it either.”

 “I am…sorry. For not believing It.”

 “Thanks, Shale. If you ever…” _I can’t believe I’m saying this_. “…want to talk, I’m always willing.”

 She rumbled something that I couldn’t interpret, and I let it slide.

 We spent the rest of the afternoon walking in silence. I was exhausted, and clinging to Shale’s shoulder sapped all of my energy. Stopping early, both for me and Morrigan, Aedan actually had to help me down or I was sure I’d have fallen. He fed me again, and I started to feel like a hobbit, with second breakfasts and elevensies. Tired as I was, I muttered something about not having furry feet before falling soundly asleep on Aedan’s shoulder.

 When I woke in the morning, I was being carried again. I’d apparently slept through the night, then the usual morning activities, and then being picked up by Sten, of all people. When I opened my eyes, Sten’s expression was one of amused disbelief, as if he couldn’t figure out how he’d been talked into this, and I didn’t want to think about the conversation Aedan must have had with him to convince the Qunari to carry me. And actually carry me comfortably, instead of thrown over his shoulder. My respect for Aedan’s diplomacy went up a couple of notches.

 He was walking with Alistair on one side of him, and Aedan on the other; both Wardens were tripping over themselves to encourage Sten to keep going, and to tell him not to hurt me or wake me up. In fact they were so engrossed in telling Sten what to do that neither noticed I was actually awake. I listened for a few minutes, and Sten’s expression became downright smug when he saw me watching. I finally broke down laughing when Aedan nagged Sten not to wake me, for the third time in two minutes.

 “I appreciate the thought, brother, but I’m quite certain you and Alistair were far more likely to wake me with talking than Sten was with walking!” Both of them blushed furiously, and Sten actually laughed out loud. _I rule! I made the Qunari laugh!_

 They gave me a break for personal needs, and after I insisted on walking at least for a while. I scarfed some bread and jerky while we walked, and realised that I actually was feeling dramatically better, though still a bit fatigued. I walked all the way back to the Dalish camp, ending up really, really annoyed by the combination of Aedan, Alistair, and Wynne all hovering around me and checking on me every five seconds. I tried walking with Shale or Sten, hoping that would be enough for them to leave me alone, but no such luck. By the time we reached the Dalish, I mumbled some excuses, left Aedan to talk to Lanaya by himself, and took off into the woods a little ways to throw myself down on a rock and sit in blessed silence for a little bit.

 I’d sat only a few moments, when I got an uneasy feeling, making my muscles tense and my hands reach for my daggers. I realised what it was in a couple more seconds and called out.

 “Might as well sit, Zev. Hovering is only going to irritate me more.”

 “Apologies, cara mia. You always seem to know when I’m lurking nearby. Aedan made me promise to keep an eye on you.” He settled on the rock beside me, and I leaned against him slightly.

 I sighed. “I know. And part of me is rather thrilled to have a brother who cares about me; the rest wants to strangle him to death.”

 “I’d prefer it if you didn’t. I’ve never been interested in necrophilia, particularly, and I don’t have the desire to start now.”

 I laughed. “I’ll make you a deal then. I’ll resist the urge to kill him, if you help me distract him from fussing over me.”

 “Oh, this sounds interesting, no? Any limits on how I distract him?”

 “Not from my perspective, Zev.” I shot him a naughty grin and he responded. “Have fun, just keep the details to yourself. Now, how am I going to get Wynne and Alistair off my back?”

 “Alistair would be too easy, bella donna…you have many ways to distract a handsome templar, I’m sure, and if not I’d be willing to teach you-”

 “Thank, Zev, not quite what I had in mind. I’ll let you know if I ever reconsider.”

 He tsk’d at me. “You’re as bad as a Fereldan.”

 We sat quietly until the sun started to set and it got colder, then headed back to our campsite within the Dalish camp. Aedan was back, the Dalish were mourning, but Danyla was back with Athras and as I sat in a circle with my companions, I was pleased with life for a bit. I knew I’d put up with a lot worse than everyone fussing over me to stay this happy. Again I fell asleep on Aedan’s shoulder, drowsing comfortably in the warmth of the fire.

 ********

 I woke in hospital, back in my skimpy gown. Given that I never soiled myself, I was truly wishing that they would leave me in my clothes. I thought I might have a chat with the next nurse I ran into. Sitting up, I pushed my call bell and then stood, fishing around in the little wardrobe by my bed for my clothes. A calm-looking, older nurse arrived as I was finishing dressing, and she smiled.

 “They weren’t lying! You’ve got to be the only coma patient who stays strong enough to get up on your own.”

 I blushed, embarrassed at the thought of rumours circulating about my bizarre condition. “Yep, that’s me. The freak.”

 She smiled kindly. “Well, now I don’t know about that, but you’re a little bit of a marvel, I’ll give you that. The doctor is going to want to talk to you, and I imagine you’d like to get cleaned up after…”

 “Yeah, about that. Is there someone I can ask for permission to leave me dressed in my clothes unless I’m being bathed? I really dislike the gowns you all keep making me wear.” I waved my hand in the direction of the skimpy piece of fabric on the bed.

 She laughed. “I can understand that – they’re a bit drafty for my tastes too, deary. I’ll see what I can do.”

 She reminded me of Wynne, and I thought the two would actually get along quite famously. She went off to find the doctor, and I wandered over to the nearby sink to check the mirror. I now looked almost exactly like my Fereldan self. The only difference was the nose…and I vaguely recalled a story where I got hit in the face with a ball as a kid, and wondered if perhaps I’d broken it at some point. My clothes were slightly baggy, with extra space in the ass, chest, and stomach, but a bit tight around the shoulders. Yet somehow my skin didn’t sag like I thought it would after weight loss. Every time I thought about that my head threatened to explode. _My clothes change size in Ferelden but the ones here are now too big, yet somehow my skin still fits right?_ I was interrupted in my self-inspection when my doctor wandered in, still looking worn out.

 “Do you ever sleep, doc?”

 He smiled, but the expression was forced. “It’s hard to sleep with you scaring the pants off everyone all the time, Sierra.”

 I felt somehow guilty, which made me scoff. _Like I want to burn to death?_ I tried not to, but blushed anyway. “What can I say? I guess I like the attention.”

 He scowled at me, and I scowled back. “What? I don’t exactly enjoy the convulsions and things either! I don’t control it, you know.”

 His face softened and he sighed. “I know. It’s not your fault. It’s just so damned…frustrating, to have no idea what’s going on with you. Those burns…I thought you were going to die.”

 “I…think I probably was supposed to, really. Being anchored here might have been what saved me, even. I don’t know for sure, but it was like I got stuck between the two places. I don’t know. I’d rather not do it again, I can tell you that.”

 He studied my face as I spoke. “I get the impression that given the choice, you’d stay there. You’d never come back.” I nodded, somewhat sheepishly. “Is it really that much better there?”

 “It’s…different, I guess. Some things are definitely worse – no showers, no toilets, no toilet paper…but there’s also magic and dragons and a family. I’m important, there.”

 “You’re important here!”

 “No, I’m really not. Let me demonstrate. How many visitors have I had here?” He shook his head, unsure. “I’d wager it’s none. I bet you’ve never walked in on anyone sitting with me. I don’t have any friends, here. There, well…there were eight people gathered around me trying to take care of me when I was burned. And not because it was their job, but because they care about me. I have a brother! Here the only people who’d notice if I died are you and a guardian whose paycheque would stop coming. Where would you rather be?”

 “And if it isn’t real?”

 “Then I guess I’m the happiest delusional patient in the psych ward.”

 He laughed then, and looked ten years younger.

 “Listen. I know this is a pain in the ass for you. I just want you to know I’m grateful for your help, and if something happens, it’s because of what happened to me over there. It isn’t your fault.”

 He smiled, squeezed my hand, and took his leave as I was getting dizzy. “Say hi to your brother for me.”

 


	33. Rejection and Acceptance

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Rejection and Acceptance**

 When I woke, I was in Alistair’s tent. For the second time. I mostly could tell it was his tent on account of the fact that he was lying in it, right beside me. There’s not a lot of room in a bedroll, really, so I was plastered to his side while he was on his back, arms up and hands behind his head. He jumped like he’d been shot when I opened my eyes, and I sat up and scrambled away from him. My skin felt like it was burning again where it had been in contact with him, and though I knew that was all in my head, it made a lick of heat curl through my insides, made me long for… _inappropriate, Sierra!_ I’m sure my face was purple, Alistair’s was as well, and I suddenly wondered how long I’d been lying there. Before he could overcome his shock to say anything, I fled, pushing through the tent flaps, stumbling to my feet and hoping to rush out of camp before having to speak to anyone.

 Aedan’s mouth dropped open when he saw me emerge, and he gave me a sympathetic look and let me run. Leliana happened onto my path just as I was about to escape into the woods, and she grabbed my hand and stopped me.

 “I think perhaps the Maker is sending you a message, no? He has placed you in the handsome templar’s tent twice, now…”

 I got angry. It wasn’t her fault, and I knew it wasn’t, but I was sick of my emotions being jerked around.

 “Your Maker can just keep his opinions on my love life to himself!”

 I yanked my hand out of hers and stormed off. Her hurt expression ate at me, and I knew I’d owe her a huge apology later, but I couldn’t right then. I needed air, and alone time. And preferably somewhere I could scream until hoarse, far enough away that no one would hear me and question my (very questionable) sanity. I strode off into the woods, finding a small clearing close enough to be safe, but far enough that I could melt down unseen. I threw myself down on the ground, eyes closed, fingers massaging my temples as the tears came.

 As I lay there, I heard the sounds of Aedan and then Zevran ease into the clearing, then leave again, giving me my space. The tears finally dried, and I just stared up at the blue sky, feeling wrung out. It had probably been a half hour since I fled from Alistair’s tent, and I had no intention of going back to camp anytime soon. As I lay there, I heard steps I knew could belong to only one person, and I shot up to my feet like I’d been launched from a cannon. _No way am I being caught by him lying down!_ I turned instead and found a rock to sit on, facing away, waiting for his steps to draw close. When he reached me, he fidgeted for a couple of moments, and I just sat quietly. Finally he sighed and stepped into my line of sight. I kept my gaze on my boots.

 "So..."

 "I don't want to talk about it, Alistair."

 "Too bad. You know what Leliana tells me, all the time? I'm too much of a gentleman. So this time, I'm not being gentlemanly. I insist. We are going to talk about this."

 "Alistair, I've told you how I feel. What happened doesn't change that. What more is there to say?"

 "Oh, but you haven't, Sierra, not by a long shot. You've told me what you think, in that logical brain of yours, not what you feel. Ignoring, for a moment, the fact that you almost killed yourself trying to keep me alive, let's start with this: you saved Duncan and Cailan for me. Not for Ferelden, not because of the Blight, but for me."

 I opened my mouth to object, point out all the other reasons I wanted them to live...but he had me. I'd admitted it, and though I’d never planned for him to hear it, I had no argument that would convince him. I finally nodded.

 "Yes." I whispered the admission so quietly that I doubted he could even hear it. The answer, however, was obvious.

 "Why?"

 "I...Cailan's the King, and we need all the Grey Wardens..."

 His hands clamped down on my upper arms and he lifted me off the rock then shook me; gently, considering his strength, but my head still snapped back and forth. "No. Don’t tell me why everyone else is glad they're alive. Why did you do it specifically for me?" I saw Aedan approach silently from behind Alistair, a question in his worried eyes, and I knew if he was there, Zev was too, somewhere. I signaled to my brother with my eyes and my fingers to back off. He did, but only to the edge of the clearing. Alistair set me on my feet, but didn’t let go of my arms.

 "Alistair, I..." I looked into his eyes _deeply_ , possibly for the first time, and suddenly felt like I was drowning in them. I bit my lip, tried to look away, and failed. When had those hazel eyes become so piercing, so mesmerizing? I shook my head as my traitorous mouth spilled the truth I wanted - no, needed - to hide.

 "I didn't want to see you unhappy." I tried to stop myself, but there was too much pressure behind the words and the rest came rushing out. “I couldn't stand to see that look on your face. I know how much Duncan means to you. And I didn't want you to be forced to become King. I wanted you to be free to choose your fate. Plus this way, maybe...maybe you won't have to die. Not that I want anyone to have to die to kill the Archdemon, but...not you.”

 His hands gripped my arms tighter, and I stifled a gasp of pain. He didn’t know his own strength, but I knew he'd leave bruises, and I didn't care. I wanted it to hurt. His voice was low.

 "You gave me all the reasons I should stay away from you, why I shouldn't fall in love. But, Sierra...I don't care about any of that. It was already way too late. Now I need to know.

 "Do you love me?"

 I stared at him, mind reeling, searching for anything that I could say, anything to make this go away, but his eyes caught me again and I knew I couldn't lie. Not to his face. It would break me.

 "Yes.” It burned my mouth to say it. “And that's why I can't...we can't..." He shook me again, and my sentence trailed off.

 Emotions flickered across his face - fear, longing, anger, amazement. It settled on one that could only be described as 'in love': a goofy smile, eyes too bright, skin practically glowing. I gasped as he pulled me closer, seeing the intent in his eyes, and started mouthing the word 'no’. My mouth was dry, my tongue felt sluggish, and I couldn't get the word out, couldn't even shake my head. Agonisingly slowly, he tilted his head down, and our lips met. They barely brushed once, and then he licked his lips and was back for more. He wasn't demanding or rough, just sweet and soft and perfect, and whatever flimsy wall I had tried to construct over my emotions shattered. I could feel him tremble, and I wondered what his self-control was costing him.

 My hands, the only part of my arms that could move, fisted as I struggled against him. I wasn't strong enough to stop him forcibly, but I knew this man. I knew he would stop if he was aware that I wanted him to. He did, pulling back with a shattered breath. The trembling increased.

 I swallowed, trying to get some moisture back into my mouth. All I wanted was to throw myself into his arms. I resisted. Mental images of myself, at home, alone, broken, flashed through my mind, followed by memories of me sobbing into my pillow after the first time I accidentally allowed him to sacrifice himself in the game to kill the Archdemon. At last I realised just how truly selfish I was. I wasn't saving him. I was saving myself. I didn’t want to have to live with myself if I loved him, for real, and he died, or I disappeared for good. He didn't deserve to be stuck with someone like me. A single tear silently slid down my cheek. With a growl, he let go of my arms, turning to walk away, shoulders hunched like he'd been sucker-punched.

 I managed to stay on my feet until he was out of sight, and then Aedan was there to catch me as I collapsed, Zevran behind me to hold me between them. I cried until I couldn't anymore, until there were no more tears. They held me and whispered platitudes which I didn't even hear. They tried, briefly, getting me to talk, but it just brought on a new round of tears every time. Finally back in our tent, I watched Aedan sleep all night, my eyes closing only for seconds the whole time.

 The next day Alistair acted like it had never happened. We left the Dalish, heading towards Denerim. Leliana and I sang, and he barely even acknowledged me. It was worse than if he'd yelled or screamed or...anything. I sucked it up, knowing I'd brought it on myself, that I deserved it. I let him get too close, I was too weak to stop it, and then I couldn't even tell the lie that would keep him away. And still I wanted him, painfully so. Twice while we walked I teared up and had to run off into the bush, pretending to need to pee, so I could cry it out. I'm sure I looked like hell; my eyes were probably red and puffy, my nose swollen from blowing it. I didn't care except to think that Alistair might think I was doing it to make him uncomfortable.

 I realised that without thinking, I had begun teaching Leliana Sheryl Crow songs. _Oh, this is going to go over well_. I suddenly knew what she'd be singing over the campfire at supper some night. I sighed and carried on - I was halfway through it anyway.

 That evening, Alistair avoided me when we would normally have Templar practice. Wynne sat with me as I worked, patting my knee kindly when I lost my concentration over and over again. When I finally gave up and returned to the campfire, Alistair was laughing at something Leliana said, the two of them leaning in to each other and smiling conspiratorially. It hurt, but I forced myself to smile at them brilliantly before escaping into Aedan's tent. No matter how much it hurt me, I wanted Alistair to be happy. If Leli could give him that, I'd never get in the way. That didn't stop me from crying myself to sleep, clinging to Aedan's hand.

 After a couple of days of walking, we found a campsite not too far from one of Bodahn’s by now famous swimming holes. We split into shifts to head down to the water and clean up, and Leliana and I drew the longest straw – we got to go first. I grabbed some clean clothes, my soap and shampoo, and a comb, and the two of us headed off. I stripped in seconds and submerged, the feeling of the water on my sweaty body invigorating even if it was cold. Leliana joined me and even had me giggling as she sputtered and shivered in the cold water. I got myself scrubbed off, and handed the shampoo to her as I stood up to climb out of the water, just as we heard voices approaching. Male voices, and coming from the wrong direction. I dropped back into the water, just as the owners of said voices came around the rocks piled on the bank. Four young men, I’d guess not quite my age.

 “Well, well, what have we here? Look boys – it seems we caught ourselves some rather large fish before we even cast our lines.”

 Leliana and I traded looks; my expression was frightened but hers was fierce. I admired her aplomb. _What is it with random Fereldan men and attempted rape? Are Alistair, Duncan, and Aedan the only non-rapists in the blasted country?_ I looked longingly at my daggers, still sheathed and in a pile with my clothes on a rock. Leliana spoke.

 “Gentlemen, we didn’t know this was your fishing spot. If you’ll just turn your backs, we’ll get out of your way, no harm done, yes?”

 They actually laughed, but the sort of laugh that didn’t feel funny at all.

 “Orlesian bitch, you think you can just tell us what to do because you’re from Orlais? I think perhaps you need to be taught a lesson.”

 “Now, now. I’m not actually Orlesian. I was a slave there, as a child. I escaped and came here…I just haven’t lost the accent yet. I’m Fereldan!”

 I could tell she was stalling, looking for a way out of the mess we were in. By unspoken agreement we both floated towards the bank furthest from the men, and closer to our things. I decided that if they tried to come in after us, I’d make a run for my daggers. I pulled my feet up under me without lifting myself out of the water, poised to run, and realised Leliana had done the same. The men stood on the bank, none of them seeming willing to get their clothes wet, but they clearly knew that if they stopped to strip, we’d have the opportunity to run. I had just about decided to run anyway – they’d have to swim through the deepest water to get to us, which should have bought us plenty of time, when another voice joined the conversation.

 “I suggest you just leave before things get ugly.” I looked behind me and saw Alistair, in full plate, armed, standing on our side of the bank. His expression was confident and full of rage; he would have scared the hell out of me if I’d been on the receiving end of that look. Apparently six plus feet of armoured, cranky warrior was enough for our would-be rapists as well, and deciding discretion was the better part of valour, they slunk off into the bushes. They’d have run, I was sure, if Alistair had been on their side of the river. I saw a black bird take off from a branch behind Alistair, and then come swooping back, chirping, seeming to urge Leli and me out of the water.

 “Morrigan, cheep once for yes and twice for no.” I’d learned some things from my doctor when trapped between Earth and Thedas. “Are they gone?”

 The bird cheeped once.

 “Is it safe to get out now?” Another cheep. “Alright. Alistair, could you turn around for a second, please?”

 Leliana and I got out of the water and dressed quickly. I was shivering, a combination of fear and cold, and after giving Alistair the best smile I could manage under the circumstances, I thanked him and crawled into my tent, curling up in my bedroll and falling apart. Aedan came in with a bowl of some sort of stew – which I ate mostly for warmth, without tasting much – then stayed with me and held me while I shook.

 I didn’t know what to say, how to express my feelings. I was scared of what could have happened if Alistair hadn’t shown up, embarrassed to have needed to be rescued yet again, and ashamed of myself for being so grateful – and surprised – that despite turning Alistair down, he protected me. A small, cynical part of me thought maybe he was only protecting Leliana, but even I knew that was just jealousy and despair talking. I wanted to run to him, bury my face in his shoulder, and beg him to take care of me forever, but knew I could never do that. _I don_ _’t deserve him._

 I guess everyone took turns guarding the swimming hole while everyone else washed up, and we set off early again, figuring we were about a ten day walk from Denerim. A couple of days later, after watching Leliana and Alistair flirt shamelessly as we travelled, I was glad I didn't have a larger mirror. I wasn't sleeping, had barely eaten, and spent every minute of alone time bawling my eyes out and hating myself. I could only imagine how pathetic I looked. At various times, Aedan, Zevran, and Leliana had all tried talking to me about what was happening. I shut them all out – or at least I tried, but Leli was extremely persistent. One day while setting up the tent I shared with Aedan, she showed up, helped me set it up, and pulled me inside, giving me a dirty look.

 "You look like something the cat dragged in, Sierra. This can't continue. Talk."

 "What do you want me to say, Leli? I can't."

 "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

 "Doesn't make it less true."

 "You know, talking to you sometimes makes me want to scream and tear out my hair. Listen. Do you find him attractive?"

 "Have you looked at him, Leli? Where I come from, there's a place called Greece. Hundreds of years ago they used to worship a whole pantheon of Gods - kind of like the Dalish, I guess. One of them was called Adonis - he was the God of beauty and desire. As far as I can tell, they based him off Alistair, and they don't do Alistair justice! Hell yes he's attractive. And I damn well know you're aware of that. I've seen you look at him."

 "Good, jealousy. That I can work with. But humour me for a moment. Is he interesting enough? Smart enough?"

 "He may not be cleverly manipulative, like, say, Zevran, but that doesn't mean he isn't smart. You don't come up with witty one-liners in the worst situations if you're stupid. And not manipulative is a good feature, of course. Leli, none of this is about him."

 "Then what is it about? Tell me."

 "It's...I..."

 "Say it, Sierra. Tell me. By the ass of the Maker himself, why?" She was shouting, and I almost gasped at the obscenity. I scrunched up into the tiniest ball I could fit into, face hiding in my knees.

 "It's me. It's not him. I don't...I don't deserve him. I don't want him to be stuck with someone like me. He should be with someone like you. And I hope you can both be happy."

 "Oho, now we're getting down to it. What exactly is someone like you?"

 "Someone weak. Incapable of taking care of herself. Possibly insane. Someone... _feeble_." I hissed that last word, the true sting of Shale's nickname finally hitting me. "Someone who can't even lie to him for his own good, who might not even stick around. I can't saddle him with someone like me forever. I won't. I..."

 "Love him."

 I nodded, dejected, and curled in on myself again. She shuffled over and put her arm around my shoulder. "You're not feeble, dearest. You're not a burden. You're a beautiful woman who could have curled up in hysterics until this was all over and no one who knew what was happening would think the worse of you. Most people who’ve been through what you have in the last months would be lucky just to live through it, never mind change the course of history, kill darkspawn, and survive rapists, lecherous Kings, and abominations. You are the strongest person I know, Sierra. That is why he loves you, whether you wanted him to or not. And that's why you should let him." She hugged me one last time, and then left to get supper started.

 I was proven right about the Sheryl Crow music, finally, when Leliana grabbed her Lute during supper and started belting out songs. It was fine for a couple until she came to "Strong Enough".

                 _God I feel like hell tonight._

_Tears of rage I cannot fight._

_I'll be the last to help you understand._

_Are you strong enough to be my man?_

_When nothing's true and nothing's right,_

_Just let me be alone tonight._

_Cause you can't change the way I am._

_Are you strong enough to be my man?_

_Lie to me._

_I promise I'll believe._

_Lie to me._

_But please don't leave._

_I have a face I cannot show._

_Make the rules up as I go._

_It's try and love me if you can._

_Are you strong enough to be my man?_

_When I've shown you that I just don't care,_

_When I'm throwing punches in the air,_

_When I've broken down and I can't stand,_

_Would you be man enough to be my man?_

 As usual, all of us listened avidly as Leliana sang. Alistair's face was impassive, Aedan's expression a mix of shock and horror. Everyone else seemed to enjoy it, cheering her on when she finished. I couldn't take it. I'd known it was coming, but still I felt sick. Standing, suddenly, I took off from the small circle of firelight, stumbling and tripping as I hurried into the woods near the camp. _Why am I always running off into the woods alone? Drama queen._

 I stopped, probably less than fifty feet from camp, but feeling disoriented in the dark. Unwilling to go any further away from safety, I found myself a mostly dry tree root to sit on and cried for a while. Again. _I’m so sick of crying._ I finally heard footsteps in the underbrush and knew I'd been found, even as I hoped the ground would swallow me. As the sound grew closer, the blurry shadow resolved itself into Alistair. _Of course. Why not?_ He carried my kinetic flashlight, setting it near me so it cast eerie light through the woods; it stayed lit, so he'd obviously been charging it for a while. He must have realised I was an inch from bolting again. He held his hands up, trying to look non-threatening, while I sat, muscles tensed for a run.

 "Sierra. Please. Don't run, not from me." He took a breath and then just blurted the rest. "I love you. I don't have any idea how to be suave, how to persuade you if you don't want to be convinced, but I love you." He gulped air, expression uncertain in the dim light. "I didn't say that before, and even if you send me away tonight, I wanted you to know.”

 The look on his face was intense, frightened. While part of me thrilled at the declaration, part of me shrivelled and died. _I am a terrible person._ I pulled my legs up in front of me, hiding my face in my knees. I couldn’t look at him as he continued.

 “You are the most wondrous thing in this dark world, and you have no idea. From the first time I met you…I was grateful, sure, but you were so funny, and always so positive, and you saved the only person in the world who mattered to me. I loved you right then, I think. But I thought you were spoken for. So I suppressed it, content that if I couldn’t be with you, at least you were with someone worthy, someone who deserved you. And then you were suddenly with Aedan. And I was so…angry; I thought you had betrayed Duncan, and if you were going to betray him, dammit, why couldn’t it have been with me?”

 I looked up, shocked. He’d…been interested in me? He kept going, emboldened by my gaze.

 “Every time Cailan, or Teagan, or Zevran looked at you, I wanted to punch someone, and I didn’t. I took it out on you, instead. Made the only woman I’ve ever loved feel like a whore. I heard you crying, that night, in your tent. I did that to you. I wanted to just curl up and die…I couldn’t even apologise. Leliana finally told me. That you weren’t with Duncan, or Aedan, that you were so afraid of being here that you couldn’t sleep; that they made you feel safe. I wanted to be that guy, and instead I was the Maker-damned fool who treated you like a prostitute.

 “And still you were…nice to me. You helped us, when you didn’t have to. You tried to learn to fight, tried to help out more – as if anyone could give us more help than you already had – and you’re still trying to protect me, risking your own life to save mine. When you should have showed me the pointy end of your dagger long ago. I’d have let you, you know. I knew I’d deserved that, not for you to be kind to me.

 “You say you might disappear, you might hurt me - but I'm not giving up on you, on us, because you 'might' hurt me, especially when you've already saved me. I know that not trying would be worse. Maybe we only have a little bit of time, or maybe we have our whole lives...any amount of time would be better than living without you because of fear."

 I stared at him, wondering who this eloquent, sweet man was, and what on earth I did to make him love me. And I couldn't help but believe - the look on his face, the shy, tender smile - that he loved me. He truly did. I gazed into his hazel eyes, and this time I didn't feel like I was drowning - I felt like I was being carried.

 I looked down and saw a rose in his hand. Alistair's rose. _Oh no, now I'm screwed._

 "Do you know what this is?"

 I was breaking. I knew it. "Your latest weapon of choice?" I heard my voice saying those flip words, dialogue options I had chosen in the game, and it was so surreal, it felt like I was hearing someone else, watching someone else.

 "Yes, that's right. Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!"

 I couldn't help it. I giggled. On the verge of hysterics, my laugh must have sounded more like a cackle, and he jumped slightly, then let out a quick gasp. He'd pricked himself on a thorn.

 He opened his mouth to speak again, but I held out a hand to forestall it. I saw disappointment flash across his handsome face, until I stood, slowly, and took a step towards him. He watched me take another step, and another, and then I was directly in front of him. I reached out for his hand, feeling his strong fingers, calluses from years of sword practice rough against my own softer skin. Taking the rose from him and setting it down beside the flashlight, I lifted his injured finger to my lips and kissed away the tiny dot of blood that had welled up through the wound. Looking up at him, I stretched out my other arm, cupping his cheek, scratching at the stubble on his chin, ghosting my thumb over his full lips.

 "Are you...are you sure?" I locked gazes with him, expression serious. "Because I'm not strong enough to send you away twice."

 It took a moment for the words to filter through his fear and actually make sense. Instead of a look of hope, or joy, or relief, like I had expected, his eyes just darkened with desire, with possession, and whispering my name, once, almost reverently, he slid his arm around my waist, pulling me up on tiptoes for the most intense kiss of my entire twenty-four years. His lips were moist and soft, his stubble tickled my chin, and my free hand tangled in his short, sandy blond hair. Without parting his lips, without even touching me anywhere other than my hand and my waist, the kiss was nothing like the soft, sweet one from the few days before. It was needy and demanding and heady, and I shivered with the sheer expectation it conveyed.

 If I hadn't known from the moment I woke up and realised I was in Ferelden, I knew it now - I was his. Always and forever, damn the consequences. It didn't come as a surprise.

 I whimpered in a combination of passion and terror, and it finally broke his iron control. His hand released mine and wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling me to him again, a soft groan vibrating across our lips and I couldn't be sure whether it came from him or me. His lips parted gently, and mine rushed to accommodate him without any conscious input. He tasted of cheese (no surprise) but also cinnamon and camp smoke and home. Some part of my brain realised I'd never again call Earth - that pale shadow of an existence I lived there - home. I didn't go home when I blacked out. I was already home, in Ferelden.

 Shakily we pulled back from the kiss, and I looked into his eyes again, their hazel depths warm and welcoming and full of wonder. I thought I might look the same.

 "Maker, Sierra, I...that was..."

 Every time he said my name in that accent it sent a shiver of arousal down my spine. "I agree."

 "Is that what it's always like?"

 "Kissing? Not as far as I know. It's how they describe it in those smutty books Wynne likes. I always thought they were lying."

 “Was that too soon? I don’t want to push you-“

 “I think I’ll need more testing to be sure.”

 His gaze darkened even more, and I shivered. "Hmm. I guess I’ll have to arrange that, won’t I."

 "After everything, I’d be very, very disappointed if you didn’t.” I’d have begged, if he wanted me to. His mouth met mine again, and I was lost, a gasping, panting ball of arousal and raging desire.

 “I could just do that forever.” His face was dreamy, a shy smile curving his generous lips.

 “I won’t decline that offer. But, um…could we get comfortable first?"

 Alistair looked confused, so I turned him and encouraged him to sit on the root I'd cried upon what seemed like a lifetime ago. I briefly contemplated straddling his legs to sit astride his lap, but decided against it in favour of keeping the poor Chantry boy's head from exploding. I sat sideways in his lap instead, and let him pull me into another soul-shattering kiss. When I finally pulled away, panting, I rested my forehead against his, just enjoying the proximity. His fingers explored my face, the curve of my ears, and my hair, and I closed my eyes and hummed with contentment.

 When I thought about how hard I’d fought to stay away from him, I shook my head. _I’m an idiot._ I looked at him silently for a moment, and finally whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the wasted time. And for letting you believe, even for one moment, that I didn’t care for you.”

 He kissed me again, and this time it was the sweet, hopeful, soft one our first should have been, had I not been too frightened to respond. It felt like it lasted for days, and I was still disappointed when it ended. He held me in his lap, and I cuddled into his shoulder comfortably.


	34. Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief, fluffy chapter posted early, as I'm going to change my regular update day to Tuesdays. As always, I don't own Dragon Age. And many thanks to Kira Tamarion and Bookwyrm for their invaluable advice and editing.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Complications

 "So...now what?"

 I leaned away again to look up at his face, one eyebrow raised. "Alistair! If you suggest that we skip past the awkward part and go straight into the steamy bits, I'm going to take you up on the offer, out of spite if nothing else. You just be careful what you say next."

 "I...well, the thought did cross my...hey, wait! I told you to stop stealing my lines." We giggled together. "What I actually meant was, what do we tell everyone? They all gossip, you know that."

 "First smart comment and I feed them to the darkspawn." It had to be said. And I wanted to hear him say it again. _Yeah, I'm fishing._

 "See? This is why I love you."

 My heart skipped a beat when he said it, leaving me with a queer butterfly sort of feeling that was horribly wonderful. My face turned serious. "I love you, too. I've never said those words before, to anyone. I love you, Alistair."

 "We're quite the pair, then, aren't we? We have to fight for months to admit we love each other, and we can both barely say the words without our heads popping off."

 I grinned. "I've been thinking it long enough, I'm sure I can get comfortable saying it. Eventually."

 "How long, exactly, have you been thinking it?" Even with a shit-eating grin he was gorgeous. _Damn you!_

"So, totally, not telling. Ever. And you can just put those puppy-dog eyes away, because it's not going to work. No, no, no!" I closed my eyes, refusing to look, and he broke out laughing.

 "So you didn't really answer the question. About what we're going to do about everyone else."

 "Well, I guarantee Aedan and Zevran already know."

 "They do? Damn that sneaky assassin-"

 I cut him off with a kiss. "No, no. He might be out here too, but I'd bet my boots Aedan is. I'm his sister, remember?"

 "Riiight. I sort of forgot about that for a moment. So...is he going to kill me?"

 The subject of our discussion stepped out of the woods to stand over us, and we both jumped. "Not unless you hurt her, Alistair." Aedan made a serious intimidating face. I giggled and he scowled.

 "I, uh, will try very hard not to."

 "See that you do." Aedan grinned, leaned over and kissed the top of my head, and disappeared again.

 "Does he know how creepy that is when he does that?"

 "I heard that!" came floating back to us faintly.

 "Sod off, brother dearest!"

 We listened until the laugh faded into the woods, then looking at each other, made an unspoken agreement to whisper.

 "I suspect Leliana knows. That song tonight was a setup if I've ever seen one."

 "Yeah...about that. The flirting? Utterly faked. I was upset and sort of...whined at her, and she suggested jealousy might work. It was...stupid. And it totally failed; you didn't get jealous."

 "Oh, yes I did. I wanted to rip her hair out. But...if she'd made you happy..." I trailed off. "It hurt, but you deserve it."

 "And you don't?" He saw the truth written on my face when he tilted my chin up so I couldn't hide. "Oh, Sierra. You do. And I'm going to do my damnedest to prove it to you.” He pulled me into a tight hug, and I realised we fit together, somehow, my head tucked into the curve where his neck met his shoulder, his arms wrapped around me. I was quite content to just sit like that for as long as he'd let me. Suddenly we were in the dark as the flashlight lost its charge.

 "The song was a setup,” he confirmed. “So was your conversation in your tent earlier."

 "What?" That got my attention. I sat up, frowning.

 "She...I didn't realise it until after, but she made sure my tent was close enough to hear what you guys talked about. I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have eavesdropped, really, it was all Leliana."

 "So you...heard all that?" I was glad the flashlight had died, so he couldn't see how purple my face had become.

 "...yeah."

 "Oh, uh. Now that's embarrassing. I'm going to kill Leliana. You weren't supposed to hear that."

 "So I gathered. I'm glad I did though, and I know why she did it. My, uh, self-esteem wasn't exactly doing well - you didn't seem to be getting jealous the way she said you would, and you worked so hard to avoid me, and...I started to think that maybe you were just trying to let me down slowly, that you just didn't want me..."

 "I admitted that I loved you!"

 He shrugged. "I know. I just...was so down on myself, all of a sudden, I didn't believe you, I guess. Leliana was trying to convince me, and it wasn't working, so...she arranged that little tent chat."

 "I'm still going to kill her."

 "Seems fair. Although...it worked. I would never have had the confidence to come out here, otherwise."

 "Fine. I'll give her a hug, then I'll kill her." We both chuckled and returned to talking about our companions.

 "Wynne isn't stupid, so if she doesn't know, she will in five minutes, even if we tried to hide it."

 I nodded. "Agreed. And the rest aren't going to care one way or the other."

 "So we just...tell everyone?"

 "Nah. We just act like nothing happened, like we've been together forever, and act stupid if anyone draws attention to it."

 He grinned. "Sounds like fun. But...do we have to go back yet?"

 Even in the dark I could feel his puppy dog eyes on me.

 "No, love. Not yet." I let myself be pulled into another kiss, moaning softly as his hands returned to my hair, kneading my scalp. His tongue touched my lip softly. I pulled back, briefly channeling Bridget Jones. "Nice men don't kiss like that!"

 "Oh yes they sodding do," he growled, and pulled me back in again as I giggled.

 After an eternity, certain that my lips were swollen from kissing and my hair disastrous from him running his fingers through it, I suggested we head back to camp. He sighed heavily, but agreed. I grabbed the rose - Alistair admitted he’d bribed Morrigan to preserve it after Lothering - and the flashlight, and we carefully worked our way back to camp. We had to climb over multiple roots and fallen trees - how I'd gotten through here in the dark without falling was a mystery - and Alistair held my hand, helping me over each one. I was practically dizzy at how fast I'd gone from lonely and heartbroken to in love and taken care of.

 Everyone was still gathered around the campfire, and Alistair held my hand firmly as we walked up. He encouraged me to sit on the only unoccupied log, and he sank to the ground at my feet. I took my hand from his and set it on his broad shoulder; he tilted his head slightly to brush his cheek against my arm. No one said a word, and we settled and got drawn into listening to Leliana sing. Another one I’d taught her, and unsurprisingly appropriate – originally by Dusty Springfield, I always thought of the Vonda Shepard version.

  _I don't know what it is that makes me love you so._  
                I only know I never want to let you go.  
                'Cause you've started something,  
                Oh, can't you see?  
                That ever since we met, you've had a hold on me.  
                It happens to be true, I only want to be with you.

_It doesn't matter where you go or what you do._  
                I want to spend each moment of the day with you.  
                Oh, look what has happened with just one kiss.  
                I never knew that I could be in love like this.  
                It's crazy but it's true, I only want to be with you.

_You stopped and smiled at me,_  
                And asked me if I'd care to dance.  
                I fell into your open arms,  
                And I didn't stand a chance.  
  


 _Now listen honey,_  
                I just want to be beside you everywhere.  
                As long as we're together, honey, I don't care.  
                'Cause you've started something,  
                Oh, can't you see?  
                That ever since we met, you've had a hold on me.  
                No matter what you do, I only want to be with you.

_It happens to be true, I only want to be with you._

 

I grinned at Leliana and stuck my tongue out; she almost missed her next line. Alistair squeezed my hand, and I knew he was listening to the lyrics too.

 At bedtime, he walked me to my tent - sort of hilarious, as his was only three feet away - and paused. I blushed, he blushed, and we both stood sort of awkwardly until he made a move. He lifted my chin, leaned in slowly, and kissed me oh-so-softly on the lips once, and then again. I set my hands against his chest, feeling the warmth of him, and moaned very quietly with pent-up desire.

 "I love you, Sierra. Maker, it feels good to say that. I love you."

 "I love you too, Alistair."    

 "I am a lucky man."

 It took me at least an hour for the arousal and butterflies in my stomach to calm enough for me to fall asleep. I wondered if the kissing had had such a profound physical impact on Alistair, which naturally led to me thinking about him, maybe naked, aroused, and… _inappropriate, Sierra!_ I was still fidgeting when Aedan crawled into our tent, and he grinned at me, waggling his eyebrows. Knowing Alistair’s tent was close enough to hear anything that was said, I shushed him with one finger over my lips, trying to prevent him from embarrassing me any further. I shouldn’t have bothered; my brother was a practical joker, and I should have known there was no chance I’d escape this without harassment. He tugged his bedroll over closer to mine, and encouraged me to snuggle up to his side when he lay down beside me.

 “So. When is the wedding going to be?”

 We heard a surprised ‘urk’ sound that tried to hide under a cough from the tent next door, and Aedan grinned broadly. I punched him in the side.

 “Aedan! Not funny.”

 “Who says I’m being funny? You’re a Cousland, Sierra. You have a reputation to uphold.”

 I laughed. “No one in Ferelden even knows I exist outside of this group. I’m pretty sure my reputation will be fine.”

 “Still! No one can besmirch the honour of my sister, without-“

 “No!” I could hear more choking from the tent next door. “No besmirching. I don’t want to talk about besmirching!” At this I could hear giggles from the opposite side, and I realised I hadn’t done very well at self-regulating my volume. I face-palmed, and the giggle became a guffaw.

 “Shut up, Leliana! You’re already on my shit list!” Chuckles started breaking out all over camp, even Sten’s deep rumble obvious under the cacophony. “I hate you all!”

 Alistair kept quiet throughout this, and I couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or grateful that he hadn’t added his blushing Chantry-raised embarrassment to the debacle.

The laughter finally died down and everyone settled in to sleep. Aedan stayed right by my side, one arm around me protectively, and I only spent a little bit of time wishing for a different arm around me before falling asleep myself. I woke early, needing to use the facilities, such as they were, and I realised I’d been so wrapped up in Alistair that I hadn’t gone pee or brushed my teeth or anything at bedtime. _How is it possible for one man to addle me so completely? I’ve never been one of those girls. So embarrassing!_

I wriggled out of Aedan’s grasp and snuck out of the tent with my little bag of personal supplies. Alistair was at the fire with Wynne and Leliana, slumped on a cut log. He sat up straighter when he saw me emerge, shining a brilliant smile in my direction, but before I could even return it his face fell and the smile was replaced with a wooden, neutral look. It didn’t take much to see the anxiety behind his eyes. _Ah. Either worried I’ll have next morning regrets, or worried I’m upset about the teasing last night. Or both._ I knew how to fix that.

 He stood as I approached the campfire. I kept my face neutral, and stopped a few feet away from him, not taking my eyes off him as I spoke.

 “Wynne?”

 “Yes, dear?” She looked up from her book.

 “I owe you an apology.”

 “For what?”

 “I lied to you.”

 “You did?” She looked confused. “When?”

 “Back on the boat from the Circle Tower to Redcliffe.”

 Her confusion cleared and she smiled tolerantly. “What lie did you tell me?”

 “In my own defense, I didn’t know it was a lie back then.”

 “Of course you didn’t, dear.”

 “I told you I’d never be in a relationship with anyone from Thedas.”

 “I recall that, yes.”

 “I lied.” With that, I strode confidently up to Alistair, dropping my bag on a nearby rock. I reached up to grab his shoulder as I stepped up onto the log he’d just vacated. His height was such that I could just barely look him in the eye from the top of the log. I put my other hand on his cheek, leaned in, and kissed him soundly. There was barely a moment’s hesitation before I felt him respond, wrapping his arms about my waist and pulling me in closer as his lips started moving against mine. I broke off before it could get inappropriate for public consumption, smiling up at him. I completely ignored the cheers and applause from Leliana at the campfire.

 “Good morning, Alistair.”

 “Good morning, Sierra.” His eyes twinkled, and I shivered as my name rolled off his tongue. _Damn accent. Gets me every time!_ He kissed my forehead softly, and I closed my eyes in contentment.

 “I need to, uh, do something. I have morning breath. I’ll be right back.” I pulled away from him, stepped down lightly, grabbed my bag, and headed off in the direction of the stream. I left him there to put up with the teasing for once.

 


	35. We're having a picnic...

Chapter Thirty-Five: We’re having a picnic...

 Once finished with my personal morning details, I returned to the campfire. Alistair was about to stand up, no doubt to offer me his seat, but I shook my head, pushing down on his shoulder, and then just parked myself in his lap. I’d never have been brave enough to do that before, but I’d never been so utterly confident about how someone felt about me before. Besides, he had literally carried me in his arms for hours – I was pretty sure he could take my weight. Leliana shot me a grin as Alistair flushed bright red, and I giggled back. Once settled, I turned to her and Wynne, and Zevran who had just emerged from his tent as well.

 “Alright. Out with it.”

 They looked at me, confused, and Leliana spoke. “Out with what?”

 “The teasing. The ‘I told you so’s. The lewd comments. Get them out of your system, would you? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

 Wynne rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and continued reading her book. Leliana rubbed her hands together gleefully, and Zevran sat nearby with a mischievous look on his face. Leli had just opened her mouth to speak when a voice from the tents behind me piped up.

 “Wait! If it’s a free-for-all teasing session for my sister, you can’t get started without me!” We all laughed as Aedan stumbled out of the tent we shared.

 Seeing me sitting in Alistair’s lap, he drew up short, and I saw his eyes flash from me to Zevran and back. He paused, just for a moment, and then seemed to make a decision. Taking a deep breath, Aedan sat down beside Zevran, drew the shorter man’s face towards himself, and kissed him. I think he thought everyone would gasp in surprise, because when he pulled out of the brief kiss, his eyes flew open and he examined each of us in turn. No one looked shocked, and in fact Leliana and Alistair both had pleased smiles on their faces. Aedan’s eyes narrowed.

 “You all knew?”

 Leliana, Zevran, and Alistair all responded at once.

 “We’re not blind!” “Of course they knew, amore mio.” “How dumb do you think we are?”

 I howled with laughter, and Zevran snickered in my direction. Aedan’s face was sort of purple, and he shot me a nasty look.

 “I didn’t tell anyone! Don’t look at me.”

 Wynne piped up. “If you didn’t want everyone to know, dear, you could have tried to be a little more… discreet.”

 Aedan shook his head, looking despondent. “So we could have just…you wouldn’t have cared?”

 “Well, we’d have teased you. Like we will now.” Leliana looked smug, and we all laughed.

 The good-natured banter continued all morning while we took a much-needed break. Even Sten didn’t complain too much about the delay, and he and Shale wandered off to explore around the camp a bit. Aedan watched them go, his expression both speculative and disturbed.

 I laughed. “I don’t think so, brother. But then again, who knows?”

 Aedan shuddered and muttered under his breath. I couldn’t hear the words, exactly, but the tone was obvious. I was quite certain he’d said “Maker help us.”

 Returning to the fire after a trip to the stream again, I found Alistair and Leliana talking together quietly, looking secretive. Alistair’s face was red, and Leliana touched his arm and then said something that made him laugh. My jealousy flared, but I was able to squash it. I trusted them both. Nothing was going on. Seeing me, Alistair wandered over with a sweet smile on his handsome face. He held out his hand somewhat hesitantly, and I gave him mine, fingers intertwining instinctively. He had a bag over his shoulder, his sword and shield slung on his back.

 “Come on.” He tugged on my hand, and I followed him out of camp. We hit the stream and then followed it up a ways, until we found a little clearing right nearby. He let go of my hand, placed his shield and sword on a rock, and then started rummaging through the bag.

 He pulled out a blanket, which he spread on the ground, and then sat down, patting the area beside him. “Picnic?”

 I smiled down at him and plopped down on the blanket. He pulled out some bread, some cheese, and the ubiquitous jerky.

 “I wish I could have brought something special to eat, or at least some wine or something, but…”

 I interrupted. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Alistair.”

 “I thought…we could spend some time together. Just us.”

 “I’d like that.”

 We sat on the blanket, eating lunch, talking about nothing much, until the last of our meal was cleaned up. Alistair reclined back on the blanket beside me, and I lay down beside him, shoulders just touching.   Our hands found each other again.

 “I thought you might be angry with me this morning.”

 “Why?”

 “The teasing? I thought you might be upset. I didn’t say anything, didn’t protect you.”

 “Oh, I didn’t mind.” I blushed a little bit. “I kind of liked it, actually.”

 “You did?” He rolled to his side, head propped on one arm, watching me.

 I nodded. “I’ve never had anyone care enough about me to tease me, before now. I probably could have gone to school with no pants on by mistake, and no one would have noticed, never mind teased me about it. The teasing doesn’t bother me – at least it means they care.”

 “They do. We do. There isn’t a person back there who wouldn’t put their life on the line to protect you, Sierra.”

 “I know.” My blush deepened. “And I feel the same way. I’ve never had a family before. I like it, even if it means I have to put up with some teasing.”

 “Well, I’m sorry anyway, for what that’s worth.”

 “Oh, don’t worry Alistair. You’ll get your fair share. Just wait until Wynne tries to tell you where babies come from.”

 “Wha-? Babies?”

 “Wynne’s right. You are cute when you’re all red and mottled.”

 Alistair flopped back down with an exasperated sigh. “Maker, what is with you women?”

 I giggled. “Do you still like me?” I went up onto my elbow to look down at him.

 “No, Sierra. I don’t like you. I love you.”

 “You’re just hoping I’ll kiss you.”

 “Not just…but I mean, if you wanted to-“

 I leaned down and softly pressed my lips to his. It was interestingly different being able to look down on him, and I spent a few minutes teasing him, dropping tiny kisses on him quickly, then nibbling his lower lip for a brief moment before backing off again. Finally with a growl he grabbed me, and flipped us both over, so I was on my back and he leaned over me. He pressed me down and kissed me firmly, his tongue tasting my lip, and then, when I opened my mouth, plunging in to meet my own. I moaned, aroused and amused, letting him be in control, my hands fisting in his shirt.

 Something occurred to me, and I nudged him to stop. “Hey, you’re wearing a shirt.”

 He panted softly, breath warm on my ear. “Um, yeah…shouldn’t I be?”

 “No, I just mean no armour.”

 “Ah, yes…Leliana convinced me that plate armour wasn’t exactly romantic.”

 “Too bad she didn’t say anything to me! I could have worn clothes too. Instead of armour.”

 “I don’t mind. Your armour is…uh, well, it looks…nice on you.”

 “I’m gonna go with ‘thanks’, and not examine the rest of that statement too much.”

 “I appreciate that.”

 He kissed me again, and I didn’t think for a while. After a bit, he rolled onto his back again beside me.

 He spoke. “So can I ask you something?”

 “Anything.” I rolled over to my side again, admiring his profile.

 “Really? Anything? Huh. I’ll get back to that. But what I wanted to ask about was Zevran.”

 “That I wasn’t expecting. What about him?”

 “I just don’t understand. You seem to actually…like him.”

 I laughed. “I do. But it’s because I understand him.”

 “How could anyone understand him? He’s so aggressively…I don’t know. Sexual. It’s creepy. I mean I guess Aedan doesn’t mind it because he actually wants to be seduced by him, but…how does it not drive you crazy?”

 “Hmm. How do I explain this? He’s…he’s like where I came from. You have to understand what life is like, there. It’s so busy, everyone running around and working too much and not taking time to talk or even see others. They hide behind machines, even use them to communicate – I’ve seen two people sit side-by-side and use their machines to talk to each other instead of turning their heads and speaking. People are so…lost. They don’t know who they are, or what they’re supposed to be. They’re in pain and they don’t even know why. So some of them overcompensate. They go out at night to have anonymous sex because at least then they can feel something other than empty. They use sex to sell things, they sell their bodies without even thinking that they’re doing it. Some of the women wear these incredibly revealing, skimpy clothes, just because someone might notice them, finally. Morrigan would fit right in. It’s all a mask to hide what’s really happening.

 “Zevran is like that. He uses sex to protect his feelings, to avoid getting hurt. He makes everything a perverted amusement. Even the assassin stuff. It’s a costume. And he does it for shock value; if you’re so busy being horrified by what comes out his mouth, you’re less likely to question his motives, notice his pain. So I can understand where it’s coming from. Honestly, he wouldn’t know what to do if a tenth of those he propositioned said yes…behind the mask, he’s still that six year-old boy who grew up without a mother, who was bought and paid for by bastards who tried to steal his soul.

 “You two aren’t so different, Alistair. You use sarcasm to do the same thing he uses sex for. The difference is you were raised by people who, while they treated you abominably, had morals, and so do you. Zevran probably never even met anyone with morals until he met us.

 “Besides, the suggestive stuff he does? It’s not very over-the-top compared to people where I came from. If I went out on a weekend dancing, someone would do something far more inappropriate than what Zev tries to pull. So he doesn’t shock me. It’s actually kind of funny.”

 He was quiet for a bit, pensive, and I spent my time openly staring at Alistair. From his somehow always-perfect hair, to his ever-present stubble, strong jaw, and muscular body, he was a dream come true. He could make a nun think twice about her vow of chastity. And he had no idea.

 “You said ‘some women’ dress scandalously and have casual sex. And…what about you?”

 “Oh, no. Not me. I uh…well, this body isn’t quite like mine, back there. I was considered ugly, there. No one wanted to see me in skimpy clothes. I was always quite modest.”

 “This body? Your body there is different?”

 “Yeah, well…it’s a much more sedentary existence. I looked sort of similar, but definitely had more insulation.” I patted my smooth stomach.

 “And that was enough for you to be considered ugly?”

 “Well…it changes how you look, when you’re fat. Even my face looked different. And the standards of beauty there are very different than here. It’s all about being skinny and wearing tight, revealing clothes. They don’t even really care what your face looks like – it’s easy enough to change that, between make-up and cosmetic surgery…”

 He looked disgusted. “I think I’d hate where you come from. I don’t care if you were twice as big around as you are now, you’d still be beautiful.”

 “You, sweet man, are biased.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek softly. “But thanks.”

 “So, if you weren’t into the revealing clothes and anonymous sex, have you...ever…”

 “What? Have I ever…had a good pair of shoes? Seen a basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Licked a lamppost in winter?”

 “You know, it’s really unfair that you know all my lines.”

 “I’m very sorry, love. But the answer is, yes I have. Once. It was…awkward.”

 “Can I ask?”

 “Are you sure you want to?”

 “I…yes, I think I am.”

 I sat up, facing him, and reached out and took his hand again. “It was nothing really to write home about. Honestly…I was a dumb kid, and so was he; we were friends, and I knew I was about to be forced to move again, because my foster-mother, the only one who’d ever cared about me, was ill. We were just…fumbling in the dark, really. And then I moved, and I never saw him again. My next home was…well, it was bad. I moved three times after that, until I left the foster system. And after that I was so busy, working to pay for my education, going to school, and then trying to pay off the debt I’d accrued during my schooling…”

 “I’m sorry, Sierra.”

 “Don’t be. I honestly didn’t feel like I was missing anything, until…well, you happened.”

 “I just can’t imagine what it was like, to have grown up like that. I mean, Isolde hated me, and I hated the Chantry, but at least I wasn’t blown about like a leaf in the wind.”

 “Sort of normal, there, though. Even for people with families. I like it here better. And…I get to have a new start with all that now. I never…I never thought I’d be with anyone, never mind someone like you.”

 “What does that mean?”

 “You know. You overheard me, yesterday…”

 “It never hurts to hear it again.” He grinned up at me.

 “Someone…kind. Sweet. Funny. Strong. A real-life hero. Gorgeous…you name it. Actually, this will tell you. Where I came from, you have a fan club. Several, actually.”

 “A _what_?” He blushed.

 “Yep. Thousands of women who get together and talk about how they wish you were real, and how they wish they could meet someone like you. If anyone back there figures out where I am, I’ll probably be assassinated by some raving fan-girl on the off-chance that whoever kills me gets to take my place…”

 He was almost purple now. “Tell me you’re joking. Me? I’m not one to complain about ridiculously good fortune, but I don’t deserve to be with you, never mind have a fan club.”

 “That’s one of the things everyone loves, Alistair. You don’t even know how desirable you are.”

 I leaned in and kissed him again, hoping I could show him how I felt that way. I was suddenly very passionate, needing him to understand. Without breaking the kiss, I managed to find my way from my butt to my knees, leaning over him, reaching one hand around to hold him to me by the hair, the other stroking his cheek. His hands came up from underneath, one settling on my waist, the other crushing me down to his chest. Arousal poured down to my centre like little licks of flame and I moaned, helpless.

 Finally breaking away, we both panted for breath. _I need to stop, or I’m going to rip his clothes off on the spot. Down girl!_ I concentrated on breathing, sitting up again to give myself some space. He looked dazed, a goofy grin plastered to his face, lips slightly swollen from our activities. My gaze travelled over his still form, eventually landing on the obvious bulge in his trousers. _Not just me then. Good to know._ I fought the urge to touch him, to beg him to touch me, and won. Part of me was disappointed.

 “It is very, very” _hard – don’t say hard_ “difficult to keep my wits around me when I’m with you, Chantry boy.”

 “All part of my defense mechanism, my dear. If you’re witless, you won’t be able to get a plan together to ditch me.” He grinned, laughing at his own joke, but it was obvious he wasn’t entirely kidding. _Really? How can he still be insecure?_

“Alistair.” I pulled him up so he was facing me, then knelt beside him so we were face to face. I put one hand on each cheek to make sure he was paying attention. “I will never ditch you. Never on purpose. I don’t know what will happen to either of us, and maybe this will end in heartbreak, but I’m not going to leave you if I have any say in the matter. You’re stuck riding this tiger with me, buddy.”

 He leaned forward and kissed me breathless. “I don’t even know what to say. Except, I guess, I love you too. But um…what’s ‘riding a tiger’ mean?”

 I laughed. “It’s a saying from where I grew up. Are there tigers in Thedas? Huge, predatory cats? Fast, dexterous, fierce…been known to eat people? Anyway, the point is that riding a tiger, as challenging as that is, isn’t the hard part. The hard part is that once you’re on the tiger, you have no choice but to keep on riding, even if you don’t like where it’s headed, because if you try to get off, you get eaten.”

 “You plan on eating me if I try to get off? Did I seriously hear that correctly?”

 I howled with laughter, and Alistair laughed with me. “I’m not the tiger! Goof.” I giggled again. “Zevran would be so proud right now.” I pulled myself together. “Besides. If I were you, I wouldn’t tease me about eating you.” I put on my best, predatory evil grin, and licked my lips slowly just for effect. The look on his face was priceless – like a deer in headlights. A very aroused, very red-faced deer.

 I leaned in, eyes locked with his, and just before our lips met, I gently stroked his bottom lip with the very tip of my tongue. He groaned and crushed me to him, pulling me into his lap and attacking my lips. How long we sat like that, talking and giggling and making out like teenagers, I don’t really know. It felt wonderful. We didn’t really get past kissing – it was too new, too sweet, and though part of me truly did want to devour him, I didn’t want to push it. So I moaned and wriggled on his lap and lost myself in Alistair.


	36. Ambush and Aftermath

Chapter Thirty-Six: Ambush and Aftermath

 We wandered back to camp for supper, as we didn’t have enough food in our picnic to stay away, and enjoyed more general teasing and banter while eating. Aedan and Zevran actually took the brunt of the teasing, much to my enjoyment. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Aedan blush so red. I refused to budge from Alistair’s lap, sitting with my back to his chest, his arms around me, and his chin on my shoulder. Periodically he would turn and kiss me on my cheek or whisper something in my ear, and that kept me so distracted I barely noticed any teasing that came our way. At bedtime, he walked me to my tent again, and it was less awkward this time; he kissed me deeply, leaving me breathless yet again. As I lay in my bedroll, frustrated and horny, I desperately hoped he would make a move soon, or my head might explode. _At least this time I managed to pee and brush my teeth before bed!_

We continued on to Denerim in the morning, but suddenly travelling was a whole new thing. I walked hand-in-hand with Alistair, and got to talk with him the entire time, instead of avoiding him like I usually did. He was hilarious, his ‘witty one-liners’ keeping me in stitches most of the time that we walked. It made the day pass faster, and the little rest we’d taken the day before meant we actually made better time than normal. We chatted with Aedan, Zevran, Leliana, and Wynne periodically as we walked, but never let go of each other’s hand. It was a heady feeling. _He’s mine. I’m his. What did I do to deserve this?_

Camp got back to a semblance of normal, and I started sparring again with Aedan, with Zevran’s help and advice. Alistair looked pretty tense until it became obvious that Aedan was pulling his punches, not allowing me to get hurt, and Zevran even kept his hands to himself. _Will wonders never cease?_ After supper, Alistair and I decided to train a bit. I got my focus fast, was able to do the exercises he’d showed me, and his pleased smile was worth every ounce of concentration I’d spent and the headache I knew I’d have afterwards. It was a little more distracting trying to practice while holding Alistair’s hand, sitting where I could feel the heat radiating off his body, but I managed not to jump him and called it a victory. After practice, we cuddled and kissed for a while before reluctantly parting to go to sleep.

 The next day brought the ambush from Marjolaine’s hired goons that I’d been waiting for. I huddled in a ball, frightened as usual, while the rest of my companions decimated the little group of mercenaries. We got the address to Marjolaine’s hideout, and Alistair rushed over to me to make sure I was okay. Which, of course I was – _it’s hard to get hurt when you lay down and cry every time violence breaks out_. I was embarrassed; he thought it was sweet. He’d have cuddled me, but his armour was covered in blood spatter and I had to look away until he’d cleaned up. Zevran rolled his eyes theatrically in my direction, but I noticed he hadn’t wasted any time getting the gore off his own armour. I stuck my tongue out at him and earned myself a chuckle.

 As we walked, Alistair, holding my hand, slowed us until we were a dozen steps behind everyone, then pitched his voice low.

 “I’m sorry, Sierra. I hate it when you see me like…that.”

 I looked at him quizzically. “Pardon? Like what?”

 “Well, I know the violence makes you sort of sick. I hate the thought of you associating me with that. I wish you didn’t have to see me fighting. And stuff.”

 “Oh, honey. I’m not bothered by it. I may abhor the violence, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to defend us when we’re attacked. I don’t think you will turn into some sort of psycho and go murder people in their sleep, or anything. I don’t have anything against self-defense. I’m just too much of a pansy to help out, which is disgusting, actually. I need to harden up a bit, I know that.”

 “Don’t. Please.” His expression was sincere, his hazel eyes piercing. “You wouldn’t be you if the bloodshed didn’t bother you. I don’t want you to become that cynical person who is immune to it. I wish I hadn’t. It weighs on me, even when I know it’s necessary to kill someone to defend us. I don’t want you to live with it. Let us defend you.”

 I pulled him down for a kiss, and felt his armoured arms wrap around my waist gently. “So what you’re saying is you have a thing for pansies?”

 “Just one.”

 I gave him an Eskimo kiss, rubbing his nose with mine, which made him chuckle, and then took his hand again and pulled him along to catch up. “I haven’t agreed not to try to learn how to defend, just so we’re clear.”

 He rolled his eyes. “I’m aware.”

 I actually skipped for most of the rest of the day, much to everyone’s amusement. Alistair just grinned at me indulgently, which got him teased by Aedan and Zevran, but he didn’t even seem to notice. And I certainly didn’t care. I hadn’t been that happy since…ever, actually. Even Morrigan’s dirty look when I bounced around her at lunch couldn’t dampen my mood, especially since I was half-convinced it was fake. And I was pretty sure the scorching kisses Alistair kept laying on me periodically when he thought no one was looking were causing dampening elsewhere… _so inappropriate, Sierra!_

We made decent time over the next couple of days, even if I got definitely insufficient sleep. Between staying up late cuddling and canoodling with Alistair, and then lying awake in my tent, horny and unable to do anything about it because of Aedan right next to me, I was strongly wishing for a Diet Coke to give me the caffeine boost I needed. Coffee had never been my thing, and the tea in Ferelden tasted largely like ass. Despite that, leaving my tent every morning to see Alistair waiting for me with a smile that could light up the night sky kept me energetic and perky. _I guess love really is all you need._ I had to admit I was jealous of the Grey Warden stamina though – Alistair didn’t even look tired, though I assumed he’d been getting as little sleep as I. Maybe more though, if he was able to take care of the… _oh, that’s a mental image I don’t need right now Sierra!_

We hit one darkspawn patrol on our way to Denerim. Aedan and Alistair had been feeling a group of them slowly coming closer for hours, and realising we weren’t going to be able to skirt around them, we decided to ambush them for once. Morrigan scouted around and found the darkspawn, then led us to a defensible position in the trees where we could wait for them. I was behind everyone, protected; Morrigan had changed into a spider in the trees somewhere, and Zev was hiding somewhere to hit them from behind. Alistair pulled me directly behind him; had it been practical, I think he’d have had me holding onto the back of his armour the entire time. It was sweet, but still frustrating.

 Finally the group of darkspawn emerged in front of us, somewhat shocked to see our entire group arrayed out waiting for them. They outnumbered us, but that wasn’t uncommon, and didn’t really concern me. What did concern me was a large group of archers in the back, and the aura of magic I could feel prickling my spine, even though I couldn’t see the source.

 “Emissary. Maybe more than one.” I rubbed my arms, trying to settle the goose bumps that had formed. It was definitely a stronger aura than just Wynne by herself.

 Leliana immediately began picking off archers, while Wynne protected the group from their arrows. The front line smashed into the melee-weapon-wielding darkspawn, both genlocks and hurlocks, and Morrigan and Zevran came out of hiding to bite into their backs. Useless, frustrated, I scanned the field hoping to at least pinpoint the caster before he could throw any major offensive spells. Frustrated, I slipped out from between Alistair and Wynne, ignoring Alistair’s hissed warning. I snuck into the bushes, watching closely for any signs that the darkspawn noticed my movements; it seemed they were still ignoring me. I crept forwards, past those engaging Alistair, past Zevran, and over towards the archers, where I could feel the aura emanating.

 Leliana had done a good job; only two archers remained, and one of them dropped with a well-placed arrow as I snuck around it. I pulled my daggers and slashed at the other archer, jumping out of the way and avoiding the spray of blood as it fell. I finally found the Emissary, huddled behind the body of one of the archers. I wasn’t sure why it hadn’t attacked, but it was casting something, chanting in a strange tongue, and I assumed it was either protecting itself or buffing its companions. It didn’t seem to see me approach, and without even thinking, I reached out with my mind and seized its mana the way I had thought I had done previously with the Emissaries at Ostagar and with Uldred and friends. But instead of releasing it in an explosion accidentally, I continued to hold the mana as I pressed my dagger against the darkspawn’s throat.

 The creature hissed at me as its eyes widened in shock.

 “Hello pretty.”

I forced it to stand, and, still holding its mana, I marched it back towards my companions at knife point. It tried to talk to me in its strange hissing voice, but I ignored it. I wanted to see if Alistair could do what I was doing, and without risking harm to one of our mage companions, this was the best way that suddenly presented itself.

 My friends were mopping up the rest of the darkspawn as I approached with my hostage. Suddenly the creature, still without mana, was surrounded by half a dozen blades in addition to my own.

 “Sierra!” Alistair shouted, and I winced slightly. “Andraste’s flaming sword, what do you think you are doing?”

 “Look, yell at me later. I need to show you this. You asked me to train you if I figured out how to do what I do. Well, this is the only way I could come up with. Can you feel this?” Somehow, I released a tiny trickle of mana back into the Emissary. Alistair’s brow wrinkled as he concentrated on what I was doing.

 “I can…how are you doing that?”

 I pulled the tiny amount of mana back into myself as he paid attention, and then did it again. Surrounded as it was, the creature didn’t even try to take advantage of the trickle of mana, but just sort of slumped its shoulders and stood still.

 “Can you feel it? Can you try?” I released a tiny amount of mana, and watched as Alistair was able to get a handle on it. Slowly I transferred more and more of the power, until we each held half.

 Alistair’s eyes were wide, his mouth open in wonder. “I don’t think the Chantry knows about this ability.”

 Aedan snorted, and traded a grin with me. “I vote we don’t tell them.”

 “Okay, so…now what? What do you do with it, once you have it like this?” Alistair still looked dumbfounded.

 I grimaced. “That part I’m not totally clear on, to be honest. It’s always been borne of necessity, so I never had a chance to see what I was doing. But after practicing with you, I thought I could do this on purpose to show you, and I was right.”

 “So what are we going to do with all this?” Alistair gestured, helplessly, and I shrugged.

 “No idea.”

 Aedan spoke. “Kill it and then we don’t have to worry about it?”

 Before anyone could even reply, Sten had swung his massive great sword over his head and decapitated the Emissary. He’d aimed well; not a drop of blood landed on any of us. I turned to wipe my blades off, when I was suddenly grabbed by two different sets of hands, one on each arm. I looked up to see Aedan on one side, Alistair on the other, both with very, very angry expressions.

 I tried to forestall the scolding. “Hey! I’m probably safer not standing with you guys, okay? They can’t see me, so my chances of being hit by a stray arrow go down. And we needed that Emissary dead.”

 Aedan ran one hand through his hair roughly, then started rubbing his temples like he had a headache.

 “I can’t even talk about this right now. But this conversation isn’t over.”

 He turned and walked away, and Zevran fell into step beside him as they disappeared through the trees. Prince, oblivious to his master’s distress, licked my hand with a bloody muzzle and then trotted away after them. Disgusted, I looked around for something to wipe the mess off my hand – and my daggers – when I met Alistair’s eyes again.

 His expression was haunted, and before I could do anything else, he grabbed me and crushed me to his chest. I relaxed into the hug and sighed, hugging him back despite the gore it smeared across my armour. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke.

 “For my sake – please, please don’t do that again?”

 I hugged him tighter. “I can’t promise that. But I can promise to try to stay safe. I wasn’t in any danger. Less than you, anyway.”

 “You don’t know that.” He sighed. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know.”

 I grinned up at him impishly. “Then I guess we’re even.” He rolled his eyes ostentatiously. “Now would you help me clean up? I wasn’t even messy until you and Prince came along…”

 We found a couple of rags and quickly cleaned our weapons and armour. I poured some water from the water skin over my hands, and scrubbed at them as much as possible. Heading back to the road, Bodahn’s wagon, and the rest of the crew, everyone agreed we could use a bath. Bodahn recommended a hot spring just off the road a few hours further along, and we all hurried somewhat, eager to reach it before nightfall. Aedan avoided me the entire walk, and I knew I was in trouble later. At one point when Aedan was distracted talking with Sten, Zevran approached me.

 “Ah, cara mia, you do have a way of…how should I say…”

 “Pissing Aedan off?”

 “Colourful, and perhaps not quite the way I would describe it, but yes, in essence.”

 “So what do you think? Did I do something so horrendously stupid?”

 “Ah, I would not like to be in the middle of this particular conflict. But I think, perhaps, you both should wait to discuss it until cooler heads prevail, no?”

 I sighed and nodded. Alistair squeezed my hand, and I was glad at least he had decided it wasn’t worth the scolding. _I’ve never had anyone scold me out of love before. Maybe it won’t be so bad._ I wasn’t even able to convince myself of that.

 We made the hot spring, and settled in to make camp. The girls decided to let the men go first, and then Leliana, Morrigan, Wynne, and I headed down and soaked in the hot spring until I finally felt almost human again. We passed around the soap and shampoo, and then just let the warm water ease the muscle aches that had become constant companions.

 “This sleeping on the ground thing sucks.”

 “Well, Sierra, you could always try sleeping on the handsome templar…I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being a comfortable mattress for you to rest upon.”

 I splashed Leliana indignantly, and Wynne laughed while Morrigan just sniffed, but I saw a grin under her aloof façade. That led to a long, rather embarrassing discussion with Wynne and Leliana about how Alistair and I had not progressed to that point yet, and yes I knew he was inexperienced, and yes I knew where babies come from.

 “Wynne! You’re supposed to have that discussion with Alistair, not me!”

 “Oh, now that does sound like fun.” I arched an eyebrow at the evil grin on her face. “Oh hush, let an old woman have her pleasures while she’s still alive.”

 That earned her an eye roll and a splash from me, and we all laughed. We soaked a bit longer, before hearing someone crashing noisily through the bushes.

 “It’s just me,” Zevran shouted, and all of us sank a little deeper into the water (though it occurred to me he could have crept up on us without anyone the wiser, had he really been trying to peek). “I have my eyes covered.” I looked up to see not very covered eyes, and a smug grin. “My beautiful damsels, I have been sent to tell you that supper is ready. Or at least, so Alistair informs me.”

 A chorus of groans went up at the news that Alistair had been allowed to cook, but after shooing Zevran away we all climbed reluctantly out of the water and dressed. I threw on my simple peasant dress – my armour was damp from me scrubbing it – and headed back up to camp. Grabbing a bowl of the grey mush Alistair claimed was food, I tucked myself onto a small upturned log beside Alistair and tried to convince myself to eat the grey lumps floating in the grey mush.

 “Someday, love, I am going to teach you how to cook. Better than this, anyway.” There was a general chorus of agreement as everyone reluctantly dug into the food. Aedan still avoided me, but I found him in our tent, waiting for me, after Alistair walked me there and kissed me a very sweet, very passionate goodnight that made my toes curl.

 I sighed and curled up on my bedroll. “Aedan, I know you’re angry with me. But listen. I’m not going to sit by and do nothing when I can help us all survive. And I really did need to get Alistair’s opinion on a templar thing. And I was probably safer on my own than standing with you guys anyway. I really…”

 He interrupted me and dragged me into a tight hug. “Just shut up, Sierra! I wasn’t angry. I was scared.”

 “Aedan, I…”

 “No. I’m your brother. I’m allowed to be scared. I realise I can’t stop you, that I probably shouldn’t even if I could, but you have to realise that I’m going to go crazy every time it happens.”

 I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him to me. “I love you too, Aedan.”

 We curled up on our bedrolls and went to sleep holding hands. I woke in the night when my arm was suddenly pulled, somewhat violently. I opened my eyes to see Aedan’s face, by moonlight, sweat rolling off his brow and his mouth open in what looked like horror. He was twitching, kicking and rolling around, but eerily silent. I crawled out of my bedroll and over to him, shaking his shoulder.

 “Aedan. Wake up. It’s just a dream! Aedan!” I finally shook him hard enough that his eyes flew open, unseeing, and he shouted wordlessly. As his wits returned, I saw him focus on my face, hyperventilating, and then the tears started. I sat beside him, wrapping my arms around him, and he curled into me, ending up with his head and shoulders in my lap, his arms locked around my waist while he sobbed. I stroked his hair, murmuring soothing noises, and just let him shudder. I noticed a small earring in one ear lobe, and smiled as I knew what that meant. _About time. Go Zev!_ When he calmed a little, I spoke.

 “Darkspawn dreams?”

 He shook his head, a fresh round of shudders rolling through him. “No. Those are horrible, but not like this. This…Mother and Father, and then…you were…oh, Maker, and I couldn’t save you…”

 I hushed him, holding him tighter to me, not particularly wanting to hear the details of how I’d been mutilated or killed in his dreams. With his history, I knew his imagination had more than enough fodder to come up with something truly horrific. I started humming, Billy Joel again since it was the only lullaby I knew, and after a while his shaking stopped and I heard the soft, regular breathing that I knew meant he was asleep. I wanted to be content to stay like that and let him sleep, but I was exhausted too, and the position wasn’t exactly comfortable for me. I suffered through it until my bladder spasmed, and I knew I needed to move.

 “Zevran? A little help?” I hissed, hoping he’d heard Aedan’s shout and was lurking within earshot. I was right, and it was only moments before I heard rustling at the tent flap.

 “What do you need? Oh.” Without further comment, he crawled in to the tent, gently disentangled Aedan from my lap, and eased him back onto his bedroll. His expression was shockingly tender, and I smiled at the surprisingly strong elf.

 “Will you stay with him? I need to…uh…do something.” He grinned at me and nodded. “Actually, I think he could benefit from you staying all night, if you don’t mind. I think he’d sleep better, you know, cuddled with someone. Would you?”

 He nodded again and squirmed into the tiny space behind Aedan, wrapping his arms around the bigger man. I pushed my bedroll up against him to give him a bit more space, covered them both with a blanket, and crawled out of the tent as quietly as I could. Sten was watching me with an unreadable look, as I staggered off into the woods to take care of business. When I returned, I sat down beside the big man at the fire.

 “And where will you sleep, Kadan?” I was ridiculously pleased at the honorific. I wouldn’t have thought that a feeble girl would ever earn a Qunari warrior’s respect.

 “I guess I could go in Zevran’s tent…he can’t complain, since he’s in mine…”

 I reflected that it was past time that Aedan and Zevran shared a tent every night. I was going to need a better long-term solution to my sleep disorder. I had hoped that resolving things with Alistair – the good way, for once – might help, but so far no such luck. I was still afraid to sleep. As I pondered my options, Alistair walked up to the fire, startling me. He nodded at Sten, and I realised he must have been doing his two-hourly check for darkspawn. He sat down beside me and took my hand.

 “I…maybe you wouldn’t be comfortable with this, I don’t know, but…you could share with me, for now, if you want. It’s probably inappropriate, and your brother might murder me, but I swear I’ll be a complete gentleman.” I was almost disappointed. “I know you don’t like to sleep alone. I can make room…”

 He trailed off, his face beet red but completely earnest. I had to admit, there was strong appeal to sharing a tent with a gorgeous man – _my gorgeous man_ – even if there wouldn’t be any hanky panky. I studied his eyes, looking for any sign of reluctance or worry, and found none. And I certainly wasn’t afraid of being alone with him – _in fact, it might take a miracle for me to keep my hands to myself._ I wondered if he’d mind, but then reminded myself that I was going to wait for him to come to me. I needed to be damn sure anything we did was his idea, not mine.

 After just a brief hesitation, I smiled and nodded.

 “You sure that’s okay?”

 “Yeah, I’m sure. What, you expect me to give up my chance to wake up beside you? No way.”

 “I’ll just grab myself a blanket from Zev’s tent then.”

 He smiled, looking genuinely pleased. He crawled into his tent as I grabbed two blankets from Zev’s and then followed him in. He was lying on his back, on the ground, leaving the bedroll for me. I shook my head.

 “If we’re going to do this, we’re both going to be at least vaguely comfortable. You lay on the bedroll. Squish to the side as much as you can. I…can we…that is, could we cuddle? It will just make this easier.”

 He nodded, looking amused. I stuck out my tongue and he laughed, then tried to comply with my instructions. Apparently someone Alistair’s size has trouble squishing, but I used the extra blanket to pad the dirt along his side, and then carefully lay down beside him. I encouraged him to put one arm around me, and I put my head on his shoulder. It felt…perfect. I was beyond being surprised that we fit together so well. I hummed happily and he kissed the top of my head. I thought being so close to him might be distracting, keep me from sleeping, but no sooner had we covered ourselves with blankets, I was asleep.

 


	37. Sleeping Arrangements

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Sleeping Arrangements

 When I woke, we had shifted positions; Alistair was spooned behind me, and his arms were around me tightly. It was extremely comfortable. And then it occurred to me that one massive hand had settled, unknowingly I was sure, on my left breast. I was wearing armour – I had gotten used to sleeping in it, sadly – so it wasn’t like he was feeling much of my actual boob, but it made me blush anyway. And if nothing else, I could feel the heat of his hand through my leathers, and knew my nipple was probably hard as a rock just from the principle of the thing.

 I had only a moment to reflect on that, however, before the whole tent shook and I heard angry shouting.

 “Sierra!” Aedan sounded pissed. Or freaked. I wasn’t sure which. “You better be decent, because I’m coming in.” My brother’s head popped in through the tent flap. “Andraste’s sodding ass, Sierra, what do you think you’re sodding doing in this sodding tent?”

 Alistair woke with a start and a muffled oath. I laughed, and Aedan narrowed his eyes at me.

 “Aedan, as you can see, we’re both dressed. We’re even under separate blankets, okay? Get it under control.”

 My lack of remorse seemed to be aggravating the situation. Aedan’s face was purple, and I couldn’t tell for the life of me what that expression meant but it clearly wasn’t good. I could vaguely hear Zevran whispering, behind Aedan, and Leliana was saying something too, but I ignored them and stared Aedan down. I may have been thrilled to suddenly have a family, but I wasn’t about to let him humiliate me into feeling bad about this situation. And I was suddenly sure – Alistair hadn’t moved his hand, and he must have realised where it was by now – that the level of intimacy was going to be increasing, and soon, and I wasn’t going to let Aedan ruin it for me. Fortunately his hand was hidden by blankets, otherwise I thought I might see what human spontaneous combustion looked like.

 Finally, with another oath, Aedan looked away. He backed out of the tent and stormed off, and I assumed Zevran would follow him and prevent him from doing anything stupid. I squirmed around until I was lying on my back, Alistair’s arms still around me, hand still cupping my breast through my leathers. I sighed.

 “Sorry, Sierra. Knew he’d be angry but I didn’t think…”

 “Don’t worry about it. He needs to learn to cope. I’m not a child, and he may be my brother but that doesn’t mean he gets to judge my decisions.” I couldn’t believe we were just going to talk about Aedan, and not discuss the hand. His face was sort of flushed, but not a word? Not one to point out the elephant in the room, I waited to see what would happen.

 “Sorry I didn’t speak up. I’m not the brightest first thing in the morning, so at first I was just confused, and then after, I didn’t even know where to start.”

 “Nah, it’s good. He’d have lost it if you’d piped up, I think. And it isn’t about you, it’s about how he sees me. We need to figure that out between us. So actually, thank you for letting me fight my own battles.” I smiled, and his hesitant face broke out into a sunny grin that melted my heart.

 “I like waking up with you in my arms. Even if it involves Aedan shouting.”

 His smile faded and changed to something more intense, his eyes darkening as he leaned in for a kiss. I closed my eyes and surrendered to it, opening my mouth and moaning as his tongue immediately took advantage. It occurred to me to wonder who taught him to kiss – _I really should send whoever it was a thank-you note_ – but decided I’d just enjoy it rather than worry about it. Especially since I knew jealous-Sierra was never far from the surface when it came to Alistair. And then the hand on my breast flexed slightly – I suspected it was involuntary – and suddenly I couldn’t think about anything except his lips, his hands, and how to get closer to that gorgeous body I knew was under there somewhere. My passion seemed to have rubbed off on him and he rolled forward, trapping me half under him, pressing my hip into the bedroll and kissing me savagely.

 I lifted my one leg that had mobility, curling it around his hip, my free hand running down his sculpted chest, feeling the curve of hard muscle. He gasped and clutched me harder, setting up a feedback loop of pleasure and accidental boldness until he broke away with a low growl, rolling to his own back beside me and releasing my right side. I couldn’t quite stop a disappointed whine from escaping as his weight left me and his hand extracted itself from my breast.

 “I am such an ass.” He lifted his arm up to lay across his eyes, as if shading them from the sun, but given that we were in a tent, it was sort of obvious he was just avoiding eye contact.

 “Alistair?” His tone frightened me, and I tried to prepare myself for what I thought would come next – the apology followed by ‘I made a mistake’.

 “I offer you a place to sleep and promise to be a gentleman, and then I jump on you the first chance I get. Do you think…you could forgive me? I swear if you give me another chance I won’t take advantage. I-“

 I cut him off, almost laughing in relief. I rolled to my side and pushed up to kneel beside him. I stretched out across him, self-conscious about the weight I was laying on him, but needing the intimacy and wanting to be nose-to-nose before I spoke.

 “Nothing to forgive, love.” I reached up and moved the arm he’d flung over his eyes, putting his hand back on my now-chilly breast, then leaned down and kissed him lightly, teasingly flicking my tongue across his lower lip. He opened his eyes in surprise, and I smiled down at him.

 “Besides. Even if something had really happened…” I leaned closer to whisper directly into his ear, “…it most definitely would not have been one-sided.”

 I gave him a moment to process what I’d said, then sucked his vulnerable, perfect earlobe into my mouth, teasing the sensitive skin with the tip of my tongue. His reaction was electric, and he clutched me to his chest, hand again involuntarily squeezing my breast, gasping my name as he sort of convulsed. His voice was low and husky, and made me shiver. Before I could do anything else I promised myself I wouldn’t do, I pushed up and off him and rolled away, straightening my hair and adjusting my armour.

 “Sierra?” His tone was still husky and I had to steel myself against pulling off my armour and attacking him on the spot.

 I turned my head to face him, and gave as lascivious a grin as I could. “Rise and shine, sweetheart; time to face the music.” I winked. “I’m going to go deal with Aedan. Do you mind packing up the tent? I promise to help tomorrow.”

 His face was thoughtful as I scooted out of the tent.

 Out by the campfire, Leliana was making breakfast. “Good morning, Sierra! Breakfast?” Her eyes were twinkling, and I knew the teasing later would be intense. Wynne had her nose in a book, as usual, and didn’t even notice me. I wondered if avoidance was her way of not being judgemental about us. Or maybe it was just a good book.

 “Hey, Leli. Um, I’ll eat in a minute. Seen Aedan?”

 Her grin widened and she gestured off towards the hot spring. I sighed and headed that way. I found Aedan, sitting on the bank, his feet soaking in the warm water. Zevran sat silently a few feet away on a rock, and I wondered if Aedan had even noticed he was there. The assassin smiled at me and squeezed my hand as he headed back to camp, leaving me alone with my brother. I sat down next to Aedan, legs curled beside me, and after a silent minute, leaned my head on his shoulder.

 “So. Do you truly object, or are you just being a protective big brother?”

 He sighed. “I don’t know.”

 “Okay, then, let’s start with something easier. Do you think Alistair is a bad choice for me?”

 “No. Not at all.”

 His immediate response to that made me smile. “And do you doubt that I love him?”

 “Any idiot can see that you love him. Except him, I suppose.”

 “Do you believe he loves me?”

 “Any idiot except you can see that one.” He grinned slightly, and shifted to put his arm around my waist.

 “So let’s see. He loves me, I love him, and you approve of the match. You didn’t know any of those three things the first time you snuck off into the bushes with Zevran, did you?”

 His cheeks coloured. “No.”

 “So it’s just a double-standard then? Cousland men are allowed to sleep with anyone, anytime, but Cousland women are expected to remain celibate even after they’ve found the person they love?”

 “Sierra…”

 “Don’t ‘Sierra’ me. It’s going to happen, if I’m incredibly lucky, and I’m not going to turn him down because you’re being an over-protective freak, but I really would like your blessing. Not to mention that if you don’t give it, things are going to get awkward at dinners in camp…”

 He sighed. “Oh, you have my blessing. You knew you would. But you could have, I don’t know, warned me or something.”

 “It wasn’t like it was a plan! You fell asleep on me, and Zevran heard me struggling and helped me get you to bed, and you stopped thrashing and having nightmares when he held you, so it just made sense for him to stay. So I went out, and realised I didn’t have anywhere to sleep except alone in Zev’s tent, but you know I don’t sleep well alone, and so Alistair was awake and he offered…”

 “Okay, okay. Fine. Does that mean it goes back to normal tonight?”

 I looked at him, simultaneously amused and irritated at his stubbornness. “…No. I think it’s way past time that you and Zev had a tent of your own. And frankly, it turns out Alistair makes a comfortable pillow, which is hard to find on the road. Nothing is happening between us – yet – but I’m not giving up waking up in his arms to assuage your weird feelings.”

 “You don’t make it easy, do you? It’s hard enough watching my best friend and my sister together, but now I can’t even tell you to ‘be careful’ the way I should, because I know damn well he won’t hurt you. It’s just…awkward.”

 “I love you too. And I’ll be fine, you know I will. And I know that you and Sten will beat Alistair into next week if he hurts me, so I think I’m safe.”

 Aedan grinned. “Who knew the big guy would turn out to be such a softy, hey?”

 We both laughed, and Aedan shook the water off his feet before stuffing them into socks and then boots. We walked back to camp, laughing and teasing each other, and both cracked up when Alistair’s face, abnormally pale and sweaty, came in to view. Aedan let me go and walked up to Alistair. He held out his hand, and they shook. Alistair’s look of relief was comical, and I plopped down beside Leliana to giggle as we watched them. Breakfast was a rowdy affair, even Morrigan joining in the general revelry, before we packed up and headed out again.

 As we walked, Alistair took my hand and then proceeded to drag his feet until we were well back from the rest of the group. When he thought no one was looking, he dragged me off the path, pressed me up against a tree, growling, and kissed me. It was sudden and unexpected and intense, and left me panting.

 “So what exactly did you mean when you said you’d help me pack up tomorrow?”

 I blinked, confused. “Uh, I thought that was sort of self-explanatory. After we wake up, I’ll help you pack our tent and stuff.”

 His voice cracked slightly. “ _Our_ tent?”

 My cheeks coloured and my heart dropped. “Oh, I, uh, didn’t think. And I wasn’t planning on having sex or anything. I just sort of assumed you’d…” I trailed off, embarrassed and mortified. “…but if you’d rather not, then I can find somewhere else to sleep. I understand. I’m sorry, Alistair-“

 He silenced whatever I was planning to say next with another intense kiss. He pressed me against the tree, pulling my arms up around his neck, grinding his hips against mine. His tongue ruthlessly invaded my mouth, and I moaned, tangling my hands in his blond hair. His armour was hard and uncomfortable squashed between us, and his hands roamed down my sides, one of them dipping down to stroke the curve of my hip.

 He finally pulled away, resting his forehead against my own. We were both breathless, and I could feel the puffs of air leaving his mouth blowing across my lips. I moaned again, confused, and at the same time, completely aroused. When he spoke, his voice was that low, husky tone that I couldn’t resist, and it sent waves of heat washing through me.

 “I can’t wait until tonight, then. This is going to be a long day.” He rubbed the tip of his nose against mine and I giggled. “Maker’s Breath, what did I ever do to deserve you? I am a lucky man.” He kissed me again, soft and sweet this time, and then broke away, catching my hand and pulling me back out onto the road.

 We were less than two days from Denerim, Aedan informed us as we caught up to the rest of the group. Two days to figure out what the hell we were going to do once there. We needed to confront Marjolaine, see if we could sneak into the Alienage and check on things, talk to Wade and get some armour made, and then hide out while he worked on it. I imagined we’d do some good deeds, some chanter’s board stuff to make money, that sort of thing. I’d also had a thought about having a chat with a particular dwarf in the market district.

 The problem was, we had absolutely no idea what to expect heading into Denerim. The world had changed from what I knew, and it was possible they were barring the gates, or searching those who entered, or had lookouts trying to spot Aedan and Alistair. We batted around ideas – trying to sneak multiple small groups in, or having everyone try to dress as servants with me as a noblewoman, but none of the ideas were fool-proof. We decided to wait and see what the situation at the gates was before entering. There was no one else on the road to ask for an update, which in itself was a bit of a bad sign – there should have been at least some traffic this close to Denerim.

 We had decided long before that Sten, Shale, and Morrigan would remain outside the city. There was just no way to hide a golem or a Qunari in a human city, and I had always been amazed in game that no one commented if you were strolling through the Denerim market as, say, an elf, with only a Qunari, a golem, and a mabari for company. And between Morrigan’s clothes and her temper, it was probably best that she stay away from heavily inhabited areas. None of the three seemed upset at the idea, though I figured we should buy Morrigan something shiny, and get Sten some cookies, just in case. I had no idea what to get Shale, really.

 Alistair and I spent the rest of the day watching each other. Whether we walked together or apart, every couple of minutes I’d glance over to ogle the handsome man I was going to be sharing a tent with that night, only to catch him staring at me with dark eyes. We’d both blush when our eyes met, and look away, only to have it happen again five minutes later. Before long, even Leliana wouldn’t walk with me anymore, and Alistair and I were banished to the back of the group to walk together. I barely noticed, all my attention trained on the mouth-watering Warden at my side.

 The day passed quickly, and we soon found ourselves putting up a tent together, using the extra material from Zevran’s to enlarge it, laying our two bedrolls side by side with blushing smiles. There was a small stream – barely deep enough to get wet, and ice cold – that would be the last chance we had to clean up before arriving in Denerim. After sparring with Aedan as usual, I took the opportunity to bathe as well as I could, hurrying back to the fire in a simple linen dress as fast as possible to warm up. Alistair, who’d also cleaned up, was in trousers and a shirt instead of armour, and for the first time, when I sat in his lap and he wrapped his arms around me to help me warm up, I couldn’t help but feel the heat of him burning through both layers of thin clothing. I could feel the hardness of his impressive muscles when I curled into him, trying to leech heat, and I was sure he could feel the curve of my hip under his hand, my ass against his lap.

 “Maker’s Balls, Sierra! Your hands are cold!”

 For fun I stuck them down the back of Alistair’s neck, thoroughly enjoying his wriggling attempt at escaping. He finally managed to grip my hands in his own, rubbing them and blowing warm air on them, which was strangely erotic. _Right now everything he does is erotic, if I’m honest._ I smiled appreciatively and tried not to let my mind climb down into the gutter. Leliana served the ever-popular stew for supper, and I laughed as I watched Aedan and Alistair wolf theirs down like mabari pups and then ask for more. We skipped templar practice – I was a hot mess, all edgy in anticipation, and I doubted Alistair was in much better shape. As soon as it was practical, we retired to our tent, faces crimson with embarrassment and desire. I heard laughter coming from the campfire after we left it, and couldn’t even bring myself to care.

 I discovered a problem once we were in the tent – changing into sleep clothes. Neither of us planned to wear armour, but I didn’t intend to sleep in my linen dress, and I wasn’t about to get naked in front of Alistair just yet. I sat on my bedroll, legs tucked under me in a most lady-like fashion, and looked up to find Alistair staring at me. _Awkward!_

 I cleared my throat and tried to think of something to say, failing miserably. Alistair just kept looking at me, and my mind went completely blank. We stayed like that, both blushing, me fidgeting with the shift I planned to sleep in, until I’d finally had enough.

 “Oh, for the love of God. Forget this!”

 I uncurled from my bedroll and flung myself into Alistair’s arms. He caught me without hesitation, and the awkwardness faded to nothing as our lips met. He pulled me into his lap again, my arms around his neck, hands fisting in his short, golden hair, and I felt his hands, one splayed against my back, the other on my thigh just above my knee. I immediately opened my mouth, and he took the invitation, stroking my tongue with his own, making me groan softly. I was dizzy with the intensity of the kiss, and some part of me realised I wasn’t breathing, and I pulled away. Alistair grunted, disappointed, until I used my grip on his hair to pull his head back and attacked his jawline with my lips and tongue. He tasted like soap, of course, but also camp smoke and sweat and something that was just all him. It was intoxicating, and I kept going until I reached his ear, relishing the sounds I was dragging out of his mouth.

 I could feel his hands, fisted in the material of my dress, the one stubbornly, frustratingly staying on my knee, the other behind my back. I wanted those hands elsewhere; I wanted to rip off my clothes and have my way with him. I wanted to break the iron control that was allowing him to hold position. I squirmed in his lap, aroused and unsatisfied, and he gasped and clenched his hands. I grabbed his earlobe between my lips, nibbling it gently, before running my tongue up the outside of the sensitive skin. He was shivering, now, but I wanted more. I stroked my tongue back down his ear, only to continue down his strong neck. I lapped at his skin, enjoying every hiss and moan, and then gently bit him in the crease where his neck met his shoulder.

 I finally got the response I was looking for. With a feral moan, the hand behind me slid up to tangle in my thick brown hair, pulling me back from his neck so he could ravage my mouth with a kiss. The hand on my knee crept to my waist, settling just below my heaving breast, tantalising me with its proximity. Impatient and unable to wait any longer, I grabbed the hand in one of mine and dragged it, unresisting, to cover my breast.

 When he’d touched my breast that morning, it had been through leather armour. This was nothing like that. His hand was almost hot, and I shivered at the temperature differential as he engulfed the small mound. My nipple was hard, and scraped across his palm as I dragged it into place. We both moaned, and his hand convulsively clutched me again, squeezing my breast. I almost came on the spot, feeling his hardness under my lap, his fingers toying with my erect nipple. I bucked up into his hand, and he gasped out loud.

 I had just enough time to enjoy the sensation before I heard something coming from the direction of camp. Through a haze of desire, part of my mind tried to sort out what I was hearing. There was the bounding sound of a large animal running, and I pulled away from the kiss with a look of total confusion on my face. And then Aedan’s voice came into focus.

 “Prince, no! Bad dog!”

 Suddenly anticipating what was next, I wrapped my arms around Alistair’s head and threw my weight into him. Surprised, he fell back, avoiding banging his head by a narrow margin. He instinctively pulled me close, which turned out to be a bad move because when the ton of enthusiastic mabari – and a few pounds of oiled tent cloth – landed on me, I fell forward to head-butt Alistair directly in the face. I heard a shout and a muffled swear, and felt blood pouring down his face, running into my hair and streaking my own face in the process. Preparing to jump, Prince transferred his weight to his back paws, and I let out a scream as I felt something pop under the weight. A rib, I assumed, from the fire racing through my chest and my sudden inability to breathe without pain.

 Prince yelped – I could have sworn he actually said ‘sorry’ – and finally managed to get off; I hoped someone corralled the silly animal before he stepped on me again while trying to apologise. When my head finally cleared, I could feel Alistair wriggling around under me, and hear a panicked Aedan shouting my name. I tried to respond, but ended up emitting only a pained moan. Suddenly the material of the tent was lifted, and I turned my head to try to see the worried face of my brother peering down at me. A glance behind him showed Zevran smirking, and Leliana covering her mouth as she tried not to break out laughing. Wynne’s face was disapproving, but somehow still both concerned and slightly amused, while Morrigan’s typical sneer just added to the overall hilarity I could somehow see.

 Without further ado, I absolutely lost it. I howled in laughter, my sides shaking, the heaves jarring my sore chest, but I couldn’t stop. I heard Leliana’s refined giggle, and Sten’s snort of disgust, and then Alistair and Aedan joined in and shortly we were all cracking up. I cackled until I felt the soothing aura of Wynne’s healing as she repaired my rib, and then Alistair’s nose, which was still pouring blood. Alistair gently held me as he rolled to the side, depositing me on the remains of the tent, and scrambled to his feet. He gave me an embarrassed grin as he bent down to pick me up and set me down on a nearby log.

 I buried my face in his shirt as he held me, relieved to have the pain gone, amused by the ridiculousness of the situation, and frankly disgusted by being covered in Alistair’s blood. He finally pulled away, and I looked up to see our tent being reassembled by Zevran and Leliana, while Aedan just glowered at Prince. Or at least he tried to glower; it was difficult, with Prince sitting by me, chest puffed out proudly, looking quite pleased with himself.

 “Aedan? What on earth was that about?”

 My brother walked over and settled beside me with a sigh. “I’m going to guess that Prince didn’t want anyone touching his human.” Prince woofed happily, giving me what looked like a grin. Aedan face-palmed. “And it would seem he’s a misogynist – he didn’t do it to me and Zev.”

 “Hey!” Alistair protested indignantly, and Prince gave him a look that said ‘you know you deserve it’. I couldn’t help but laugh, earning myself a glare from Alistair. I schooled my expression as Aedan called Prince over. He slid his huge head into Aedan’s lap, almost purring. Aedan cupped his face and lifted to make eye contact.

 “Bad dog, Prince. You hurt Sierra badly today.” Prince whined and tried to look away, but Aedan maintained the position. “Sierra can take care of herself. You don’t need to protect her from friends. Only from darkspawn and bandits. Alistair is a friend.”

 Prince rolled his eyes over to look at Alistair, crouched nearby, and sneezed in his general direction, before looking back at Aedan with disgust. He whined again.

 “Friend.” Aedan said it firmly, right in Prince’s face, and the furry monster finally made a noise that sounded vaguely like acceptance. “Now you better think of some way to make it up to Sierra and Alistair. You owe them both an apology. And if you do something like that again, I’ll chain you to a tree in camp from now on.”

 The fact that he was talking to his dog like normal parents might to a six-year-old was too funny, and I had to laugh. Aedan finally released Prince, and he came over and tentatively licked my fingers. I scratched his ears and he chuffed happily. Turning to Alistair, he looked back once at Aedan, like he was checking to see if Aedan was joking, and when he got nothing but a glare in return, he stepped up to Alistair, lowered his head in an oddly submissive pose, and whined. Always a softy, Alistair snorted but then reached out to stroke the soft fur on Prince’s head. Satisfied that he’d been forgiven, the mabari wandered back over to the fire and laid down.


	38. Spidey Senses

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Spidey Senses

 Leli and Zev had finished with our tent, and I stood up, taking Alistair’s hand. As I stood, Aedan pointed down towards the river.

 “Get cleaned up again, both of you. You look like you’ve been rolling around in a battlefield.”

 I looked up at Alistair and realised his face and neck were covered in dried blood; reaching up, I recalled that so was I. My hair was crusted with it, and I was suddenly thoroughly disgusted. His expression mirrored my feelings, and after grabbing soap we headed down to the stream hand-in-hand, barely able to see in the last light of dusk. I knelt on the bank, carefully using a cloth to wash my face and neck. Alistair just waded right in, fully clothed, to my amusement. When he assured me I’d gotten the blood off my face, I cast about awkwardly trying to figure out how to wash my hair without climbing in entirely.

 “Let me.”

 “Huh?” _I’_ _m always so eloquent._

 “Roll onto your back, and I’ll wash it.”

 “I’ll fall in!”

 “Not with me right behind you. I won’t let you fall, Sierra.”

 I trusted Alistair, but was still a little nervous. I reluctantly turned, sitting with my back to the stream, and he waded up behind me. He put his steady hands on my shoulders and eased me back; I gasped as the cold water crept down my neck as my hair submerged. His fingers were strong, his hands warm, and he leaned over me, concentrating intensely, as he carefully lathered my long thick hair. His fingers massaged my scalp, and I moaned, the sensuousness contrasting strangely with the cold.

 He smiled softly at me. “You are so beautiful, Sierra.”

 “Flattery will get you everywhere.” I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the intimacy.

 I was surprised when, a moment later, I felt his lips press gently against mine. It was like some weird moment from a chick flick – I recalled a scene from the Bourne Identity or some such where he was washing her hair and they ended up kissing – but it was better. He was Alistair, and he was real, and it was happening to me. The kiss ended and he pulled away, still supporting my head.

 “All clean, I think. And it’s cold – we had better get you dry and warm.”

 He helped me sit, and I quickly wrung the excess water out of my hair and twisted it into a bun to prevent it dripping too much. He climbed out of the water, and I was momentarily dumbstruck. Despite being fully clothed, the water meant that nothing was really hidden. He was six feet of gorgeous, and I moaned again in spite of myself. He glanced at me curiously, and I was intensely grateful for the near-darkness that covered my blush. I shook my head, trying to gather my wits, and scrambled to my feet.

 Suddenly aware of how cold it was, we instinctively clung together, though his wet clothes were probably not helping me any. Reaching the tent, I insisted he crawl in first and change his soaked clothing, and I went to huddle by the fire. Zevran, on watch, was the only one left outside, and he had thoughtfully tossed some extra wood on the fire. I wiggled as close to the fire as I could tolerate and sat with my wet hair towards the heat. I knew it wouldn’t dry that fast, but the warmth felt wonderful.

 Zevran raised his eyebrows with a smirk on his face as he dramatically glanced over at the tent I shared with Alistair and then back at me. His thoughts were plain – why was I out here when there was a perfectly naked, gorgeous templar in there? I scowled at the elf and shook my head. I’d had enough unintentional embarrassment for one night – I didn’t need to add walking in on Alistair while he was changing. I wanted to get naked with him, more than I was comfortable admitting, but I wasn’t going to have the first time be sort-of accidental and awkward and in a tent with everyone listening. We weren’t ready. Zevran just shook his head, amused.

 Alistair saved me by emerging quickly, dry if not yet warm, and I slipped into the tent to change into a light shift for sleeping. I looked critically at the dress as I took it off – it was probably a lost cause, with all the blood around the neck, but I put it aside to ask Leliana’s opinion later. _I wonder if they have bleach in Ferelden_. I called out softly when I was ready, and Alistair crawled back into the small space.

 Neither of us spoke; I think we both knew that the mood had been well and truly broken, and I for one was freezing. Our bedrolls were pushed up side by side, and as he laid down, I snuggled up to him. I could feel myself start to shiver, and he wrapped a warm arm around me as we pulled both blankets up to cover both of us. Cuddled in his arms, finally starting to warm up, I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

 “Love you.” I mumbled. I felt more than heard him reply, but I was asleep before whatever he said penetrated.

 I woke in the same position I’d been sleeping in, snuggled up to Alistair’s side. I opened my eyes, expecting to see morning light filtering through the tent fabric, but it was mostly dark outside and very, very quiet. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had woken me, though I couldn’t imagine what; Alistair slept peacefully, so obviously it was only me. I tried to settle back down and get more sleep – my eyes were gritty with fatigue, and I clearly needed the rest – but I felt like I was going to crawl right out of my skin, and the sensation wouldn’t let me rest. It was a familiar sensation, the more I thought about it, and I realised that it was similar to the feeling I’d had early on after meeting Zevran when he’d been trying to prank me while meditating with Alistair. In fact, it suddenly occurred to me, it wasn’t similar – it was exactly the same.

 I would have slapped myself upside the head if I thought I had time. I jerked upright, and let out the loudest yell I could manage.

 “Wake up! We’re under attack!”

 I heard a startled Leliana scramble to her feet out by the fire, grumbling about bad dreams, just in time for the whistle of an arrow to be heard flying through the camp. It thunked into something, and from Leliana’s sudden shriek, the something was her. Moments later I felt Wynne’s magic flare, and then a few seconds later Morrigan’s, and I hoped one or the other had taken care of Leliana.

 Alistair, more alert than I despite having just woken, grabbed me with one arm, his sword – which I hadn’t realised was right beside his bedroll – with the other, and with a grunt, rolled us. We hit the side of the tent and stopped, just as a couple of crossbow bolts pierced the spot we had been sleeping in. Releasing me, Alistair bolted from the tent with a growl, and I heard his shout at the same time as the clashing of metal from the other side of the camp.

 I scrambled for my own daggers, our tent no longer under attack since Alistair had exited, and tried to follow him out, but he was blocking the exit, engaged in furious combat with someone whose legs I could only glimpse briefly between Alistair’s. There was enough moonlight to see, but barely. It was just as well; as I ducked back into the tent, I felt the aura that could mean only one thing – our ambushers had a mage with them. It was different from Wynne’s soothing presence, and similar to Morrigan’s, but I could tell Morrigan was on the opposite side of the camp, in spider form I guessed, and this was much closer.

 Closing my eyes to concentrate, I found the source of the mana and reached out, as I’d shown Alistair on the hapless darkspawn Emissary. I heard a scream as I seized that power, but then had no idea what to do with it. Crawling back to the tent flap, by the wan moonlight I could see Alistair bleeding from a slash to the arm, and all of a sudden instead of being afraid, I was angry. _How dare these bastards try to hurt my family?_ I growled and felt the power I held change, move somehow, and suddenly Alistair was surrounded by a brief flash of white light. I catalogued what I had done with half my mind, comparing it to what had happened at Ostagar, while the rest still watched Alistair. The next time his assailant got a hit in, the sword stopped an inch from his skin as though he wore his usual armour, and a spark flared; the sword seemed to rebound up and fly away, and I heard a curse as the man lost his grip. Alistair slashed his neck easily, and the would-be assassin dropped, hands trying in vain to close over the wound.

 When Alistair stepped forward, I could finally see Aedan, dancing between two men with great swords, and my anger flared again; another flash of white light, and I knew he’d be similarly protected. I was able to crawl out of the tent and climb to my feet, turning to see the terrified visage of a young man in robes, clutching a staff ineffectually, and chanting frantically. I was amused to note that what he was chanting wasn’t an attempt to cast a spell, but rather a prayer to the Maker. I looked away from him and spun, picking out my friends in the darkness, seeing flashes of light as shields went up. Alistair was relieving some of the pressure on Aedan, while Zevran fought to keep Leliana safe near the fire. Prince and Sten were finishing off the archers that had started the whole thing, and Shale protected Wynne as she circled, looking for obvious injuries. I couldn’t see Morrigan, but her aura had last flared at the edge of the woods, and a number of writhing, screaming attackers demonstrated the power of her bites. None of the people I could see near her were capable of standing, never mind fighting, so for the moment she was safe.

 As I completed my circle, the rest of my group finished off the last of the enemy; Zevran and Aedan went around slitting the throats of those still breathing. That left just the mage near me, now completely devoid of mana. I caught Alistair’s eye and then put up one of the shields I had finally figured out, and he nodded. Aedan walked up to the mage, who had fallen to his knees, dropped his staff, and held his hands out to the sides in an effort to look non-threatening. His frightened eyes were fixed on me until Aedan stepped into his line of sight.

 I didn’t stop to watch the encounter between the mage and Aedan; I turned and rushed over to where Leliana had fallen by the fire. Zevran had her propped up against his chest, his hands holding her shoulders still, while Wynne slowly, methodically worked an arrow out through the back of her leg. She’d cut away the leather of her armour, revealing an expanse of pale thigh. I was relieved to see not much bleeding – the arrow hadn’t hit an artery – but one look at Zevran’s too-blank face and I knew I was missing something. When I looked closer, I could already see the edges of the wound blackening, and Leliana didn’t even seem to notice the pain as Wynne pressed the arrowhead deeper into her flesh. _Poisoned, damn it._ Leliana’s face was pale, and I didn’t think she’d notice our conversation.

 “Wynne?”

 “I see it, child. I tried, but I don’t know enough about poisons.”

 “Zev?”

 “Two or three possibilities come to mind. If I knew which, I could make an antidote – maybe, if I have the supplies available – but if I give her the wrong one, it will be worse than the poison.”

 I swore. “Zev, can you…look, don’t hurt anyone, but can you find out what the poison was?” I gestured with my head to the mage behind me.

 Zev nodded grimly, grabbing Leliana’s blanket and wrapping it around her now-shivering upper body. I stayed with her, but watched Zev as he stood and headed back to the apostate, still kneeling in front of Aedan. He reached down into the grass near my tent and picked up one of the daggers that I’d dropped there. Steeling myself against what I had asked him to do, I watched him walk up behind the mage, grabbing a rough handful of his hair and tilting his head back. His hair fell back, and I realised he was an elf. I hadn’t even noticed. Zev held the dagger at his throat.

 “Zevran…” Aedan murmured, warningly.

 He must have winked at Aedan, because his body language subtly relaxed. Zevran spoke.

 “I’m afraid your sad story won’t sway me, little mage. My friend is dying. So either you tell me what poison they used to tip their arrows, or you die.” He pushed his head down, and looked at Aedan, who nodded, ever so briefly _. Like he’d actually kill someone. Oh wait..._ “Think carefully, little maleficar. I’ve seen your friends – they were nothing more than thugs. I’d be willing to bet that you made the poison for them. Tell me now, and I might be inclined to allow my friend here to continue with whatever soft-hearted plan he has that will allow you to keep your pathetic little life. Refuse me, and I will use you to refresh some skills I haven’t practiced in a while.”

 I almost felt sorry for him, felt sick for torturing him even if only emotionally, but we needed to know what poison they used. I left Leliana, wrapped tightly in a blanket, with Wynne, and walked over. The apostate’s eyes went wide as I approached. Zevran shook his head, pulling at his hair – enough to hurt, not enough to damage.

 “Speak.”

 “I don’t…I don’t know what it’s called. Please. I’ll tell you everything I know. There used to be another mage with us – he died a few months ago – but he taught me how to make basic poisons and poultices. I don’t know what it’s called, but I can tell you how it’s made. Or, I can make the antidote. I know how. One of the guys accidentally cut himself once on an arrow. There might even be some of the antidote back at my camp. Please, please. Don’t hurt me. Kill me if you have to” – his eyes opened, tears streaming, looking at Aedan, pleading – “but don’t let her hurt me.” I was fascinated that it was me he was concerned about, despite Zevran’s dagger at his throat. He was babbling, and I figured about ten seconds from soiling his robes.

 The assassin shook the young mage’s head again. “Tell us how the poison is made, and then the antidote. Lie, and you’re mine.”

 I looked at Zev skeptically, and tried not to grin. Zev crouched down and listened to a list of ingredients and instructions flow frantically out of the terrified elf’s mouth. Zev nodded every now and then, and I was encouraged to see that he seemed to recognise the poison. After a few minutes, he stood up.

 “Can you fix it?”

 Zevran shook his head. “There’s no way to get what I need, here. But it sounds like they’ve got some of the antidote, and probably the supplies I’d need to make it, back at their camp. He says this was all the men with them, that the camp is deserted. I’ll go check it out, and if it’s not a trap, I’ll get the antidote.”

 “Can you trust that it’s the right one?”

 “I’ll know it by smell. It’s quite distinctive. If it’s wrong, I’ll make some myself with their herbs.”

 Aedan’s voice rang out. “Take Morrigan with you. She can scout by air, and if you get in trouble, come get us.”

 I heard the cawing of a crow overhead, and knew she was one step ahead. Zevran handed me my blade and took off after her at a run. I walked away from the hapless mage with a disgusted snort and headed back over to where Wynne was hovering over a grey, sweaty Leliana. With nothing else to offer, I sat beside her and held her hand. I briefly wished I was religious – any faith would do – so that I could at least pray and believe it might help. Wynne spared me a sympathetic look and continued to fuss over Leli, checking and rechecking on her condition. Alistair had dressed, and came to sit behind me, his enormous plate armour giving me something to lean against, and held my other hand in his.

 Aedan joined us, and I realised he’d left the mage alone and unbound. Well, alone except for Prince, who obviously shared my dislike and stared at the young man with an almost disturbing intensity. Shale and Sten were piling corpses for burning off in the woods. I shot Aedan an incredulous look, and he shrugged.

 “How long can you keep him from casting?”

 “No idea, actually. Though if I lose it, Alistair can take over. Why isn’t he at least tied up?”

 “There’s extenuating circumstances, Sierra.”

 “Of course there are. And so we’re going to do what with him? Let him go? Ask him to join us?”

 Aedan spoke defensively. “It’s what you had us do with Zevran, I’ll remind you. Sten too, for that matter.”

 “Because I knew what would happen! I don’t know this kid. He wasn’t in the performance. He could turn around and slaughter us in our sleep. Or turn us in to Loghain or Howe for the bounty. Best case scenario he’s an extra apostate to deal with, and one who can’t turn into a bird and disappear when the templars show up. I’d never have taken Zevran or Sten either, if I didn’t know the future. You’re really shocked I don’t trust him?”

 “Are you even going to hear his story?”

 I sighed. “Of course I will. I’m probably the softest touch of all of us. Just don’t expect me to like it.”

 Alistair squeezed my hand and Aedan grinned. By unspoken agreement, we would wait until Zevran returned and Leliana was safe before discussing anything further. Sten and Shale returned, Sten favouring the young mage with glares that rivalled Prince’s. The apostate stayed put, curled in on himself, shaking every time he looked our way. I steeled myself against his pathetic sadness and stayed with Leliana, resting against Alistair’s armoured chest.

 As we sat I could feel the mana in the mage regenerating, and I gradually drew more of it in as it did. If he was uncomfortable, he wisely kept it to himself. I don’t know how long we sat, waiting for Zevran to return, but it felt like hours. It felt like a death vigil. Everyone was jumpy, startling at every noise, and I had to restrain myself from heading off after Zev half a dozen times. _If he’s fine, you’ll just slow him down; if he’s not, you’re not the one who can help him. Steady girl._ We sat, and Leliana got paler, her breathing more laboured. The sun peeked out over the horizon as dawn arrived.

 After an eternity, I could hear rustling, and then the caw of a crow, and Zevran burst out from the trees. He was sweaty and panting, obviously nearly exhausted, but he carried a pack full of herbs on his shoulder and a small vial triumphantly in his fist. Morrigan transformed right in front of us and plucked the vial from the wasted elf’s hands, and proceeded to rattle off instructions to Wynne that she’d obviously been given by Zevran. The former assassin made it to the fire and then collapsed, spent. Aedan found a blanket and covered him, curling up behind him for good measure. Morrigan sat beside me and I favoured her with a grateful smile.

 “Any trouble?”

 “None. Though the camp was a little further than he said. ‘Twas abandoned and the supplies were right where they were supposed to be. There was nothing there worth scavenging besides the herbs and the antidote. Even the food…” Her disgusted look gave me all the explanation I needed. She paused. “I admit to being impressed; the elf can run.”

 I felt a flash of warmth at the thought of our companions working together to save Leliana; I’d never really seen them come together like this before, though I supposed they had when I’d been burned. But Zevran had run himself into the ground to get the antidote, and Morrigan didn’t even try to hide the concern she felt. I contemplated teasing her, and decided to pass. I couldn’t do it after everything she’d done. I reached over and squeezed her hand, once, then settled back against Alistair to watch Wynne work.

 She’d apparently administered the antidote already, and I saw the empty vial roll away from her in the dirt. Leliana was still pale and sweaty, and I felt Wynne’s magic flare again as she tried another healing spell. It felt weaker than normal, and Wynne herself started to look a bit peaked. She reached into a nearby pack, and I saw her pull out a Lyrium potion. Worried about my favourite grandmotherly mage, I stirred to object, but Morrigan cut me off.

 “Allow me to try. It can’t hurt.”

 Wynne nodded, and Morrigan shuffled to her knees, reaching out to place her hand over the wound. I felt her magic flare, but again nothing changed. Leliana looked the same, and Morrigan, sniffing, tried again. And again, each time weaker than the time before. I squeezed Alistair’s hand in a death grip, and he squeezed back. I met Morrigan’s eyes, and she shook her head.

 Both of our mages were tapped, and Leliana still looked like death.

 Finally beyond guilt, I got up and approached the apostate. “You lied.”

 His face was white as a sheet, looking up at me. He practically squeaked as he spoke, and I wondered just how old he was. “I didn’t. I swear! It should have worked. I’ve used that antidote before.”

 “You’d better come up with a better answer than that. You know what I am, don’t you? I don’t think you want to be on my bad side.” I felt bad using the templar card. _Almost_.

 “I…look, I’m a healer. If I had any mana, I could maybe come up with something. Like this, I’m less than useless to you.”

 I looked over at Wynne, who met my concerned gaze with a similar expression. Morrigan broke in.

 “Let him try.   If he attempts to attack, or escape, we will end him. ’Tis simple; even were he a blood mage, we have him greatly outmatched.”

 Wynne nodded reluctantly, as did Alistair. I glanced at Aedan, but he was busy with Zev, who must have been in even worse shape than I thought, to have my brother so absorbed. I closed my eyes and released the mana I was holding.

 Hesitantly the apostate climbed to his feet, taking a few steps then kneeling by Leliana’s unresponsive form. I felt his magic flare, and a blue light seemed to pass from his outstretched hands into Leliana’s wound. Wynne and Morrigan both watched, apparently fascinated, as time stretched. After another eternity – which was probably only a minute or two – he nodded.

 “May I see the arrow you removed?”

 Eyebrows drawn in puzzlement, Wynne handed the arrow she’d fished out of Leliana’s leg to the elf. He stared at it for only a couple of moments, before holding it out to her again. “There’s a piece broken off. I’m guessing it’s still in there.” He gestured to the wound.

 Wynne accepted the arrow skeptically, squinting in the dim light. “Good eyes. If you’re right, we need to get that piece out.” She looked around, grimacing. “This isn’t going to be fun.”

 We shifted Leliana to lie back on the ground, and I went over to lie beside her, one arm holding her shoulders at Wynne’s direction. Alistair shifted his own weight to hold down her legs. We recruited Sten to boil a pot of water, and then, in the fire, heat a slender piece of metal Wynne produced from her pack. Morrigan, Wynne and the apostate hovered over the ugly, blackening wound, Morrigan providing a magic light to supplement the sunrise, holding strips of cloth we’d torn up to make bandages in the other hand. Wynne took the cooling piece of metal and began probing into the wound gently. The elf held the edges back, and blood oozed out of the wound. I looked away and tried not to vomit.

 Wynne almost jumped when the probe clunked softly against something hard, and we all shared a look of mixed relief and concern. Relief that we knew what the problem was; concern, because we had no good way of removing it. _What I wouldn’t give for a scalpel and a pair of tweezers_. Wynne muttered a warning to Alistair and I, closed her eyes briefly in what I assumed was some sort of prayer, and then carefully slid one finger into the hole the arrow had left.

 I’d vaguely expected it, at some point, but Leliana’s scream still caught me completely off guard. Alistair, fortunately, was not as surprised as I and managed to continue to hold her down as she thrashed. I pressed harder on her shoulders, murmuring soothing endearments that I doubted Leliana could even have heard, never mind understood. Wynne just grimaced and kept digging, more and more of her finger disappearing into the small hole. She finally must have bumped into something, because she grunted and shifted her hand, removing the probe.

 Now came the hard part – getting the rest out without letting it fragment into pieces. It felt like forever, as Wynne gently wiggled and teased the fragment of arrow out of Leliana’s inflamed flesh. Periodically Leli would half wake up, screaming and trying to thrash, but then pass out again for a while. With a triumphant gasp, Wynne finally lifted a hunk of black, nasty looking stone out of the wound. Nodding to the elf, she whispered.

 “Could you check?”

 He closed his eyes and the blue light resumed. In a few moments, I gasped as the wound edges drew together and sealed. The blackness around the entry was gone, and the skin came together like, well, magic.

 The wound in Leli’s thigh was closed. The skin was puckered awkwardly, and I felt sad about the unfortunate scar it would leave, but the bleeding had stopped and the skin had sealed completely. Shifting my glance to Leli’s face, I noted she wasn’t shivering quite as much, and the sweat on her brow was drying. With a sigh, Wynne ran her hands across the scar, and I felt her magic flare once more. It lasted only a few seconds, but the smile I saw on her face was the most beautiful thing I could imagine.

 “She will recover.”


	39. Choices

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Choices**

 With Wynne, Morrigan, and Zevran all exhausted and Leliana still asleep, we decided to delay travel for another day to allow for recovery. I climbed into our tent, grimacing at the two new holes in the canvas. Aedan, Alistair, Sten, and Shale set up some sort of watch schedule, and after a few minutes to fix trampled tents and settle in, every quieted down and slept. I cuddled into my bedroll and was asleep in moments despite being alone in the tent.

 When I woke, the sun was shining fully down on the canvas, and the air inside the tent was stiflingly warm. Sitting up and scooping my tangled brown hair into a quick pony tail, I crawled out of the tent in my night dress, too worried to care who saw me. Alistair was sitting right outside, and he smiled sweetly at me as I emerged. A quick look around showed Morrigan sitting by the fire making poultices, Aedan and Zevran leaning casually back against a fallen tree trunk talking quietly, and Sten and Shale, still vigilant, watching the woods suspiciously. The mage was awake, huddled in a ball near Morrigan, with Prince still staring at him balefully. Of Leliana and Wynne, there was no sign.

 I plopped down beside Alistair, leaning in to rest my head on his shoulder. He handed me a hunk each of bread and jerky, and I took them gratefully.

 “You okay? You look tired. You should have woken me.”

 “I’m fine, love. Just sick of worrying. We need to figure out what to do with him.” He nodded in the direction of the young elf cowering by the fire. “You should have seen his face when he realised both of us were templars. I thought he’d soil himself.”

 I allowed myself a brief moment of satisfaction, and almost immediately felt guilty. I shrugged and changed the subject.

 “Wynne? Leli?”

 “Wynne was out a few minutes ago. She told me she’s keeping Leliana asleep to help her recover. She went back in there just before you came out.”

 I sighed with relief. “Thank God. If she…if we hadn’t…” I was unable to voice the terrible thought of a world without Leliana. Alistair wrapped his arm around me and squeezed slightly.

 “I know. We all love her too. But she’s going to be fine. And by the way, that thing you did last night was amazing. I’m impressed.”

 I heard a rustle, and Aedan and Zevran appeared, settling in beside us. Aedan squeezed my hand. “Me too, little sister. You’re amazing.”

 I blushed crimson, stuttering, trying to demur. “I didn’t…it’s not…Look, any of us would have done it if they knew how.”

 “Yep. But no one else did, did they? I’m assuming that’s how you saved Theron and Tomas?” Aedan squeezed again.

 I nodded, and Alistair kissed the top of my head. The blush just wouldn’t go away. I was embarrassed by their praise, embarrassed to be embarrassed, which just made it worse. I ducked my head and tried to interrupt the vicious cycle of blushiness.

 Zevran spoke up. “How did you even know we were under attack, cara mia? Even our lovely Orlesian Bard did not realise until it was too late.”

 I giggled. “It’s your fault, really, Zev. I woke up and had this itchy feeling down my spine…sort of like when Aedan makes you follow me, or when you try to play pranks on me while I’m meditating. Apparently living with a Crow has given me a sixth sense about these things.”

 I grinned as Zevran puffed out his chest. “Excellent! Then I shall claim the victory as my own, yes? Without me, you never would have known what that sensation was.”

 We all laughed, but I could see the underlying insecurity in Zev’s smile. He was feeling responsible for Leliana’s injury, thinking that as an assassin, he should have known we were about to be ambushed. I wanted to hug him and tell him it wasn’t his fault, but I knew acknowledging it would only make things worse. Alistair, in his own endearing fashion, solved the dilemma for me. He held his hand out to Zevran, and when the surprised assassin took it, Alistair pumped it enthusiastically.

 “You can claim any victory you want. Last night you saved Leliana’s life and nearly ran yourself to death doing it. You have our gratitude, and my respect. Thank you, Zev. Truly.”

 The shock on Zevran’s face was priceless, and I wished I had a camera. Aedan grinned at Alistair, pleased, and I chuckled softly, nuzzling my face into the brawny shoulder of the man I loved. I was impressed; in the game, it hadn’t seemed like Alistair had the maturity to recognise Zevran’s worth underneath all the Antivan’s bluster, and I was amazed at this more confident Alistair. Duncan’s death damaged him so deeply – I didn’t realise exactly how deeply until now. I shuffled to my knees, leaning over to draw Alistair into a soft, loving kiss, then pulling away and climbing to my feet.

 “I’m going to go check on Wynne and Leli.”

 The three men smiled and nodded, and I padded over to the tent the two women shared. Passing Morrigan, I smiled brightly at her and she nodded back, a small smile of her own looking so uncomfortable on her serious face. I called out quietly, and then entered when Wynne invited me in. Leliana was still asleep in her bedroll, but she’d recovered her colour and looked comfortably normal. I smiled at Wynne and sat beside her; the mage returned my smile. When she spoke, it was soft, but she didn’t whisper, and I inferred that we wouldn’t disturb Leli with a conversation.

 “How is she?”

 “She is fine, actually. I was just thinking about dispelling the sleep spell. She should be fully recovered, though she’ll need a bit of extra rest for the next few days.”

 I nodded. “How are you feeling?”

 “I’m fine. Just needed a bit of time for my mana to recover. I suppose most of us needed some time after last night.”

 Turning to Leliana, the mage muttered an incantation under her breath and I felt the brief flare of magic I’d become accustomed to. She placed her hand on the bard’s forehead, and Leliana’s eyes shot open with a gasp. Her eyes were wild, until her gaze settled on Wynne’s motherly face, and she relaxed.

 “What happened?” Her voice was gravelly, and I handed her a water skin which she drank from gratefully.

 Wynne and I took turns telling her what had transpired since the attack. She was visibly shaken by learning how sick she had been; despite this, she gave me a dirty look for getting Zevran to threaten the little mage. I just shook my head – she was too forgiving, by half.

 Wynne helped her to sit, and she pushed the covers back to gaze sadly at the ugly puckered scar on her thigh. I was sympathetic, but she was quick to dismiss that and assure me she wasn’t bothered by it. I decided it was a good thing Fereldans didn’t wear mini-skirts, Morrigan aside.

 Wynne and I helped Leliana dress. Her armour was damaged from both the arrow and the subsequent cutting to expose the wound, and we bound the pants together with strips of cloth as best we could. Finally ready, the three of us emerged from the tent, and I realised all eyes were on us. The elf mage hastily looked away when he saw me, and I grimaced. Alistair held his hand out to me, and I went to him, snuggling as much as I could into his armoured chest.

 Finally the group of us gathered around the fire with the mage who Aedan called Dariel across from me and Alistair. I tried to look non-threatening; by the pale complexion on the elf’s face, I didn’t succeed very well. Before Aedan could start talking, I spoke up, and Dariel flinched at the sound of my voice.

 “Look, Dariel? I want to apologise for threatening you. We needed to know what that poison was, but…I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” He refused to make eye contact, and I sighed and tried again. “You should know I’m not a real templar. Neither is Alistair. We’re not associated with the Chantry or the Circle. I’m just a girl with a few weird tricks up my sleeve. I wouldn’t have actually hurt you, I swear. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hiding anything. It was a nasty thing to do and I really am sorry.”

 The elf risked a quick glance at me, and I tried to smile at him. He nodded, slightly, and looked away again, but he sat up straighter, his expression more confident. He still looked scared – unsurprising, really – but he didn’t look like he was about to wet himself any more.

 Aedan took over, introducing each of us in turn. The elf looked with interest at Morrigan, and with poorly disguised pity at Wynne, to my surprise. Once that was done, Aedan asked Dariel to tell the rest of us his story.

 “Start from the beginning, okay?” He smiled reassuringly, and Dariel nodded.

 “I was born in the Alienage in Amaranthine.” He had a surprisingly low baritone for such a small, young-looking boy, and I blinked in surprise. “It was…not a nice place to live. My mother worked when she could as a servant in some of the shops and things, and my father was a drunk. There was never enough coin to support all of us. I had an older brother and a younger sister, and most weeks, we were very close to starvation. Even the other elves looked at us with pity. Half the time we lived on the street, begging to survive.”

 I was surprised at the completely flat tone he maintained during his entire speech. Uncomfortable as the subject matter had to be, I expected more squirming or stuttering. More emotion. Then again, maybe he’d had to learn to suppress those emotions.

 “When I was seven, I was trying to earn some coin by doing odd jobs – cleaning out the mabari kennels, or sweeping floors, that sort of thing. If I got lucky, I’d get a few coppers for my efforts, which I used to buy food for my little sister. My brother tried to work too, for a while, but eventually got mixed up with a group of thugs. We didn’t see him much after that – he went to live with them, wherever it was that they lived. One day, in the kennels, one of the kennel masters saw me cleaning up, and lost his temper. He had always been scary, and I usually avoided going there when he was working, but we hadn’t eaten in two days and I was desperate. The kennel master got angry, and started hitting me, and calling me names, and I just…lost it. I don’t know exactly what happened, but the next thing I knew, the kennel was on fire, and his clothes caught…he dropped me and I tried to run, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of the dogs burning. I released as many as I could reach, but one of them had been burned and couldn’t walk. I half dragged, half carried the poor beast out, and when I put my hand over his burn, it just…healed.

 “Someone else saw it, and started screaming that I was an apostate. I panicked, and ran back to the Alienage. I’d heard stories about templars, and I didn’t want to be caught. But when I got home, and told my parents what had happened, my father was so angry…Mother tried to calm him, but he walked out. He came back a few minutes later with a human, a big, scary looking, dirty, smelly human. Father told me I was to show him what I had done to the dog. He hit my sister, who was only four, hard enough that her cheek split open; to give me a patient to work on, I suppose. When she cried out, I ran to her, and somehow, I guess, I healed her. The big man grabbed me by the arm, gave my father a bag of coin, and took me. I couldn’t stop him, he was too strong, and he just carried me away, crying. Later he told me my father sold me to him for two sovereigns and a promise never to reveal where I came from, to protect them from the templars.

 “I’ve been with them ever since. They kept me chained for the first few weeks, until I was too exhausted and frightened to run away. They spent every evening telling me how if I escaped, the templars would get me, or they’d go back and hurt my sister for revenge. I finally gave up on any hope of freedom, and just did what they said. They had an older mage with them, a drunk who’d escaped the Circle in his youth, but he taught me some healing and about herbs, as well as how to read, a little. I never learned any real damaging spells, on purpose, so they couldn’t use me as a weapon, but I was good at healing them after fights so they kept me. We’ve been travelling around Ferelden ever since, taking on mercenary jobs or turning to banditry when no jobs were available. This job was supposed to be the easiest – keep an eye out for a group of travelers heading into Denerim, we were given a sketch of you-“ he pointed at Aedan, “and then ambush you in your sleep. Bring you to Denerim and get some sort of reward. You weren’t supposed to hear us coming. They almost didn’t even bring me, thinking you wouldn’t be able to put up any sort of fight. Nobody told us you had templars, or I definitely wouldn’t have come.”

 As his story went on, I felt worse and worse about what I’d done. The poor kid had been sold into slavery, and I set Zevran on him and then threatened him myself. When Dariel finished his story, he stood and walked a short distance away, his eyes suspiciously bright. We all sat and stared at each other around the fire, pity on most of the group’s faces, guilt written clearly on mine.

 Aedan gestured us all a little closer so we could quietly discuss his story. No one seemed to disbelieve him – his distress certainly seemed real to me – and it would explain why he had not tried to cast a spell after I drained his mana, and why the thugs started with arrows, not a fireball. Much to my relief, no one looked even vaguely like we should be discussing executing him, even Sten, whose prejudice against mages, I’d noticed, was declining a bit over time. I briefly wondered why – he had never softened in game, that I was aware of – but put it off to think about another time.

 “The way I see it, we have four options.” I summarised my thoughts. “The first option would be take him to the Circle. Personally, I’m not keen on that one.”

 Wynne nodded agreement, to my surprise. “They would assume he was a blood mage, regardless of what we, or he, said. Greagoir might not be the fanatic that some Knight-Commanders are, but even he would either make him Tranquil or just execute him.”

 “And the way he looks at templars, he might just kill himself before we got him there. Or get killed trying to escape.” Aedan looked sick thinking about it.

 “Agreed. And if we aren’t taking him to the Circle, he needs to find protection from templars. I don’t think he’ll survive on his own. We could just take him with us,” I continued. “Another healer wouldn’t be a bad thing. I worry about him being an apostate, though.”

 “I am also an apostate, if you recall.” Morrigan’s tone was acidic.

 “Yeah, but you’re unlikely to panic and try to run at the first sight of a templar. And if we do get attacked, you can shapechange into a bird and escape. He’d be caught,” I explained, and Morrigan’s frown eased. “Besides, most templars are men. They’d all be too busy staring at you, drooling, to really try to capture you.” Morrigan smirked at my teasing, and I grinned.

 “We could recruit him to the Wardens, get him out of the Chantry’s jurisdiction.” Alistair piped up.

 “Yep. That’s option number three. The downside is that we’d need to get him to Redcliffe, to wait for his Joining, and I don’t fancy walking all the way back there. Plus he’d need serious training. And then there’s the whole…Joining thing.” Alistair, Aedan and I exchanged glances, and I could see they were also concerned about his ability to survive. The rest of the group looked mildly confused, but no one asked.

 “What about the Dalish? They know how to hide their mages from templars. And Lanaya said they were desperately short on healers – she was talking about having to find a way to trade another clan for someone to be her apprentice.” Aedan picked at the long grass poking up from around the rock he was sitting on, his face pensive.

 “And that’s option number four. It’s still a bit of a trip, but not as far as Redcliffe or the Circle, and it should be safe.”

 Wynne scolded us. “Don’t you think he should have some say in his fate? You’re all discussing him like he’s some sort of imbecile or child. Maybe he’s had enough decisions made for him?”

 I could feel my face reddening with guilt as I realised we had indeed been talking about him as though he didn’t really exist. Looking around, I could see Aedan and Alistair also looking embarrassed, none of us wanting to make eye contact. _I’m acting like I’m still playing the game. What an ass!_ I sighed.

 “I’m going to go talk to him. I need to make amends anyway, might as well be at the same time as I ask his opinion of his options.”

 “You want me to come with you?” Alistair’s face was concerned.

 “No, I’m good. I’ve got this.”

 Alistair kissed my forehead softly and Aedan pecked my cheek. Still wearing just a shift for sleeping, and carrying no weapons, I approached Dariel slowly.

 “Dariel? Can we talk?”

 He stiffened at my voice and whirled to face me, hands up defensively. I sat down on a nearby stump, hands held out, making no sudden moves. He watched my face, and I kept my gaze on his, hoping to project openness and calmness. After a few silent moments, he relaxed just enough to crouch nearby, out of arm’s reach but close enough not to have to raise my voice. _Good enough_. I cleared my throat.

 “What do you want of me?” I could hear something unspoken at the end of the sentence, whether it was ‘shemlen’ or ‘templar’ I wasn’t sure, but the tone made it obvious it was meant as an insult. At least it remained unspoken. _I’m going to assume that’_ _s a good sign._

 “Your opinion, actually.” I had to strain to keep my voice soft and civil. “I was wondering what you would do now, given the choice.”

 “It’s not really up to me, now is it?” He couldn’t keep the fear from his voice, and I felt ashamed all over again.

 “But if it were?” He stared at me, mute, and I continued. “The way I see it, you’d actually have five options. One would be to leave us behind and strike out on your own. Try to find some way to survive.”

 “Like you would all just let a filthy knife-ear walk away after attacking you, and injuring a human.”

 “Listen, could we leave the name-calling out of it? There’s an elf I consider family over there somewhere, and I’ll thank you not to insult his race.” His eyes widened somewhat and I smiled. “Anyway, as far as leaving is concerned…they would, honestly. Let you leave. If you walked away right now, none of us would stop you as long as you headed away from Denerim. We’d probably even give you supplies.”

 Still staring at me with an unfathomable expression, he finally nodded.

 “So that’s option one. Two would be to go the Circle, throw yourself on their mercy, and hope for the best. I wouldn’t recommend that one, personally. They do owe us a favour, but real templars are a bit, well, rigid.” I thought I glimpsed a slight smirk, and felt a little bit of hope. “Three would be to stay with us as you are, and hope we don’t get accosted by real templars. Four would be to join the Grey Wardens.”

 His mouth fell open in surprise, and I almost laughed. “I won’t lie; joining the Wardens is dangerous. But it does put you outside of the Chantry’s influence. The last option would be to go to the Dalish and ask to join them. They know how to avoid templars.”

 He scoffed. “The Dalish would never take me.”

 “Normally I’d agree with you, but we know a clan who also owes us a few favours. And they are short on mages. Actually, they’re just short on people, honestly. It wouldn’t be easy – I’m sure there’d be many who would treat you badly because of where you’re from, and you’d have to work twice as hard as anyone else to be respected, but I think they’d take you.”

 He looked skeptical. “And you’d spend your favours on me? I doubt it.”

 “Why not? Look. We believe you. You’ve consistently drawn the short stick at every turn. You didn’t choose to attack us, and in fact, you actually didn’t. You were a slave, and if your masters happened to be mercenaries who took the wrong contract, that’s not really your fault, is it? We’re willing to help you, if you’ll let us.”

 I smiled at him, trying to draw him out, even a little. “So the question remains. What would you like to do now?”

 


	40. Dazed and Confused

**Chapter Forty: Dazed and Confused**

 I agreed to give Dariel some time to think about his options, and headed back to the fire. Alistair tried to hold me in his lap, but plate isn’t very comfortable for sitting on, and my butt was soon numb. Despite that, I could feel myself drifting off to sleep with every lull in the conversation, and even Alistair looked a bit droopy. Zevran and Leliana had gone back to sleep in their respective tents, and I talked Alistair into joining me in ours for a nap. He reluctantly removed his armour – he looked like he’d decided never to take it off again after being caught in an ambush in just clothes, but I whined until he complied – and we curled up on our adjoining bedrolls, Alistair spooned behind me, holding me with his chest pressed up against my back.

 His breathing smoothed out to a soft, regular rhythm as he fell asleep, but despite my exhaustion, I found my mind spinning. Between wondering what other ugly surprises we were in for in Denerim, wondering what Dariel would decide, and the butterflies in my stomach from sleeping in the arms of the most gorgeous man in all of two worlds, it took me a while to drift off. When I finally did, I was plagued by guilt-ridden dreams of standing over Dariel’s corpse, bloody knife in my hand, with all of my friends staring at me in horror, and all I could say was ‘I didn’t really mean it…’

 I woke to Alistair crushing me to his chest, stroking my hair with one hand, shushing me. I gasped as the dream faded, and then settled down to sob for a couple of minutes until the horror subsided as well. When I explained my dream, he pulled me closer again and kissed my forehead. Somehow I’d been turned the opposite way so I was facing him, and I marveled at his strength again. He didn’t tell me it wasn’t my fault, didn’t try to tease me about it; he just held me until I cried myself out. Once the shuddering stopped, he leaned in and kissed me; it wasn’t passionate, like in the night, but just warm and loving and comforting.

 “You’re really quite perfect, do you know that?” I smiled at him as he hovered over me, stroking my face with his fingers.

 “You’re biased.” He grinned at me. “But I don’t mind.”

 “What time is it, do you suppose?”

 A sudden, loud growling noise took me off guard, but Alistair laughed and patted his stomach. “Dinner time, I’m guessing.”

 I giggled and sat up, looking around the tent for some clothing that was a little bit more appropriate than the nightgown I’d wandered around in all morning. Alistair was strapping on his armour, and I grinned but avoided teasing him. I figured it would take him a while to relax and drop his guard again, though that was probably a good thing. _It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you._ I sighed and hauled over my own armour, shooing Alistair out of the tent so I could change.

 When I emerged, everyone was gathered around the fire. Alistair was already wolfing down a bowl of what I assumed would be soup of some sort, and Leliana handed me my own bowl as I settled beside him on the ground. Dariel was sitting with Aedan and Zevran, eating as well, and I wondered if sitting with the only other elf in the party made him feel less frightened. Not that Zevran was like the rest of the elves I’d met, overall. Which was a good thing – the servile attitude from most of the elves in Redcliffe and Ostagar made me distinctly uncomfortable. I smiled warmly at him; his expression, while still cool, was definitely less aloof than before.

 Once everyone had eaten, we all sat back to chat and tease each other like we always did in the evenings. Dariel’s eyes seemed to follow the conversations curiously, though he never spoke; I wondered what evenings had been like with the band of mercenaries. _They probably tortured bunnies for fun, in front of him._ That image made me feel ill, and when I shook myself to try to clear it, Alistair leaned in.

 “You okay?”

 “I’m fine. Just way too active an imagination.”

 He looked at me curiously, but then we all got distracted as Aedan stood and cleared his throat.

 “Tomorrow we head to Denerim. We will camp outside the gates tomorrow night, once we’ve ascertained what the situation is getting into the city. Wynne, Leliana, Alistair, Zevran, Sierra and I will be going into Denerim.” Prince whined, and Aedan laughed as he stroked his ears affectionately. “And Prince, of course. Shale, Sten, and Morrigan will stay camped outside. Dariel – you have a choice. I think Sierra went over your options with you, and you have some time to decide if you want. All we need for now is to know whether you will be accompanying us into Denerim, staying outside at camp, or leaving us altogether. Any plans?”

 Dariel nervously cleared his throat. “I don’t think me going into Denerim is a good idea. I could be recognised, and word would get around that we failed. I think…if it’s alright with you, that perhaps I will stay at camp. And then I can make my decision while you’re away.”

 Aedan nodded, and pretty much everyone around the fire directed a smile, a nod, or some other friendly gesture his way. Sten and Shale were the exceptions – and I couldn’t even start to figure out what a friendly gesture would look like from Shale, so maybe I had just missed it. Sten wasn’t openly hostile, which was probably the best we could expect. I did notice some interesting glances being exchanged between Dariel and Morrigan, and tried not to shudder as I considered that concept. Morrigan was becoming my friend, and I really didn’t want to think about her like that. _Ugh. Wonder why it doesn’t bother me with Zev and Aedan? Huh._

 After a bit more chatter, everyone started heading to bed. Alistair and I, both entirely awkward, took turns changing into sleep clothes while the other waited outside. Zevran was openly laughing at me as I stood outside in my nightgown after I finished changing, and I had to acknowledge the idiocy of two people sleeping together but being unable to get changed in front of each other. To avoid further ridicule, I ducked back into the tent more quickly than I might have otherwise, and I forgot to knock. _Or whatever you do on a tent._

 When I looked up, I froze. Alistair was kneeling on his bedroll, without a shirt, eyebrows raised. I stared at him, struck yet again by how incredibly well built he was. After carrying me halfway across Thedas I shouldn’t have been surprised; his abdominal muscles stood out in a six-pack, his pecs bulged like a body-builder’s would, his shoulders were broad and rippling as he reached for his simple tunic, and the tan lines on his arms emphasized the obvious strength in his biceps. I swallowed, mouth dry and hanging open, caressing his impressive physique with my eyes. When I was able to return my gaze to his face, he was smirking slightly despite the deep blush. He abandoned the shirt, lying down on his bedroll and holding his arms out expectantly.

 “Warm night, don’t you think?” His grin was sly and I rolled my eyes as I crawled over beside him and got pulled into an embrace. The skin of his chest was soft against my cheek, and the smell of campfire and sweat that I had become used to since first coming to Thedas flooded my senses. I stroked my hand through the soft fuzz decorating his chest, and he smiled at me.

 “I never thought in a million years I would be lying here with a beautiful woman in my arms….”

 I laughed and interrupted. “…While not wearing a shirt?”

 His blush intensified, and I had to wonder how he stayed conscious when all of his blood had rushed to his skin. Which brought to mind an image of all of his blood rushing somewhere else, and suddenly my complexion matched his. I struggled to keep the dirty thought from bursting out of my mouth without permission.

 “Have I told you today how incredibly handsome you are?” I snuggled into his chest, determined just to relax and go to sleep. Which was harder than expected, given the proximity of the sexy, half-naked demi-God I shared a tent with. He kissed my forehead, and then settled in.

 After several minutes of clenching my jaw and trying not to fidget, I finally sat up, startling Alistair who was half asleep. I reached over him, grabbed the shirt, dropped it on him, and waited until he put it on. I refused to rise to his bait as he smirked at me unabashedly, finally settling back down into his now clothed arms. It was probably good for his self-esteem, I decided, though it was doing nothing to improve my blush. Despite the shirt, I spent a good portion of the night lying awake in Alistair’s arms, convincing myself over and over that I wasn’t going to be the one to start anything.

 I finally fell deeply asleep right before it was time to get up for the day. _Typical._ I hazily enjoyed a scorching kiss from Alistair before he scrambled from the tent, leaving me to get my armour on. Once changed, I ate a few bites of breakfast, and then dozed against Alistair’s shoulder after he emerged in his armour. He finished my breakfast as well as his own, as usual. Alistair looked very smug whenever he caught me yawning, and both Zev and Leli gave us amused looks. I had to be chivvied into helping pack, and then got basically dragged along by the hand as we started walking.

 The day passed in a blur, literally, since I could barely keep my eyes open. I stumbled along, clinging to Alistair’s hand, hoping he’d guide me over any obstacles because I really wasn’t paying that much attention. Lunch on my feet was aggravating, because I couldn’t eat and be dragged along by the hand at the same time, so I had to concentrate on my surroundings for a while. I even accepted a cup of wretched Ferelden tea warmed by Wynne’s magic, hoping to God there was enough caffeine in it to justify the vile taste. I felt enough better afterwards to actually wonder if she’d spiked it with something, or hit me with a rejuvenation spell while I wasn’t looking. I wasn’t about to complain.

 The afternoon was an unsurprisingly better experience because of it, and I was finally feeling back to myself enough to smile and joke with Aedan and Leli while striding along beside Alistair. Alistair and I took some gentle teasing for the fog we’d both been wandering in all morning, though neither of us was willing to admit to the reason. _‘I couldn’t sleep because it suddenly occurred to me that he’s naked under his clothes’_ _doesn_ _’t sound like much of an excuse._

 Shale and Sten walked together quietly, as usual, while Zevran often ranged ahead of us, scouting for bandits and the like which should have been more common the closer we got to Denerim. Dariel and Morrigan were also together, heads down, talking quietly, and when I looked around I realised I wasn’t the only one who was disturbed by it. Alistair and Aedan both looked vaguely grossed out, and again I wondered why it was so much worse for everyone imagining the two apostates together than it was to picture Zev and Aedan (or me and Alistair, for that matter).

 It occurred to me suddenly that allowing Dariel to be recruited into the Grey Wardens might be a bad idea – it would take away any control Aedan had over Morrigan’s ritual, if she could perform it with a completely unsuspecting Dariel who was sleeping with her anyway. I decided to mention it sometime in Denerim, when neither mage was nearby, so I didn’t have to worry about being overheard. _I’m so getting yelled at by Aedan for not telling him about her ritual sooner._

 I sighed, just shaking my head with a wry smile when Alistair shot a curious look my way. We made it to Aedan’s chosen destination slightly before nightfall, just outside Denerim but far enough from the gates not to be spotted, and hidden in a forested valley. There was a little lake a ways away, where Sten, Morrigan, and Dariel would be able to replenish their water while we were in Denerim. No one felt like sparring, so we set up camp and Aedan sent Morrigan off in bird form to check on the situation at the gates. She was under strict orders not to enter the city itself, but just to survey the gates and return. Sitting together around the fire waiting for her, I was all edgy nerves and anxiety, and I wasn’t the only one looking a little tense. Alistair held my hand, his calloused thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the back, but his own jaw was clenched, and I guessed his outward calm was all illusion. I snuggled a little closer, hoping that just being there could offer some comfort.

 After a bit, Leliana asked if I’d walk around camp a bit with her; sensing she must want to talk to me about something, I agreed and hauled my tired butt off the ground to follow her. We didn’t go far before she found us somewhere to sit, and we settled in. I waited to see what she wanted to discuss. I’d assumed it was Marjolaine. I was wrong.

 “So…you and Alistair.”

 I blinked, surprised. And then giggled. _I’m such a girl!_ “Um, yes…?”

 “You are aware that he is very inexperienced, yes?”

 “Uh, yeah. So he said. Dare I ask where you’re going with this?”

 “I just…I suspect you also do not have much experience, no?”

 “Leli, what on earth…?”

 “I…worry. That you two will perhaps not have such a pleasant experience, when you finally get to that stage.”

 “Seriously? Here I figured you wanted to talk about Marjolaine or something, and what you want to discuss is Alistair and I having sex?”

 “I’m feeling quite serene about Marjolaine, actually, thanks to you. I thought about what you said at length, about how she will not stop until I make her, and I realised…you are right. Someone must prevent her from hurting anyone else. I will kill her. I won’t feel guilty about that. And it does not make me a bad person. I am fine, actually.”

 I smiled, happy that I could help her pre-empt her crisis of conscience. Shaking her head, she returned to her previous investigation, and I blushed.

 “You are avoiding talking about it, Sierra.”

 “I…yeah, I am. Look, this is awkward. I’m…I have next to no real experience, Leli. But we’re not going to injure ourselves or something, you know. We will figure it out.”

 “Real experience? What does that mean?”

 My blush deepened, and she looked at me curiously. “I…well, let’s just say that information is a lot more universally available, where I’m from.”

 She looked confused and made a ‘give me more’ gesture with her fingers.

 I sighed. Using the thumb and first finger of my right hand, I pinched the bridge of my nose, struggling to contain my embarrassment. “It means that there are plenty of books and things easily available. Instruction manuals, fictional accounts…recordings of other people having sex. Not that I spent a lot of time watching them, or anything, but…let’s just say I’m familiar with the mechanics of sex, at least. I haven’t done it much, but I think I can figure it out. Especially if I don’t have to talk about it!”

 She grinned, her expression delighted. “Books? Like the ones Wynne reads?”

 “Well, yeah, those, but more. Like serious step-by-step ‘how-to’ instructions. Or detailed descriptive accounts of sex itself. It’s called erotica. There’s a lot of it. So I’m not quite as clueless as you might think.”

 “I was thinking I might have to give you some pointers.”

 “We’re not even there yet, anyway. It’s a bit premature, don’t you think?”

 “You share a tent with the man, and you think that contemplating your first time together is too soon?”

 I grimaced. _She has a point._ “I just…he hasn’t really made any moves, yet. I’m thinking he isn’t ready.”

 “And does it not occur to you he might be waiting for you to make a move?”

 “Well, sure, but I’m not going to.”

 “Why ever not?” She looked irritated, and I shrugged.

 “It’s…I…it’s complicated, Leli.”

 “Oh, by the Maker you two do make it hard on yourselves, yes? Alright, well…can I at least suggest you tempt him a little? Make sure he knows you will not say no?”

 “He bloody well knows that by now!”

 “No, dearest, he does not. Trust someone with a bit more experience with clueless men. The only reason he has not yet ravaged you is because he thinks, deep down inside, that you don’t want him to.”

 “After last night, if he doesn’t know, he’s an idiot.”

 “Oh? Tell me!” She clapped her hands in glee.

 I sighed again. I told her about the fiasco with his tunic, and she was in hysterics by the time I was done.

 “That’s why you were so dazed this morning? You could not sleep because he took his shirt off?” Her laughter was gaining in volume, and I hushed her to avoid having to explain the joke when we went back.

 “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You’re just saying that because you’ve never seen him with his shirt off.”

 She grinned wickedly, a curious gleam in her eye that reminded me of Zevran in his more blatant moments. “That good?”

 “Uh, yeah. Better. Don’t you even think about trying to get a look!”

 She pouted cutely, and I laughed. “I still doubt Alistair has thought about what your response means, really. If anything, he would probably take it as a rejection.”

 I groaned. “So what do you expect me to do? I want it to be his idea. It needs to be, really, for a variety of reasons. I can’t just go say ‘Hey, Alistair, wanna fuck?’ I can’t do it.”

 “No, no. Maker! You are hopeless!”

 “I’m aware.” I stuck my tongue out, my wry smile escaping, and Leliana laughed.

 “Okay this is easy. You just need to tempt him. Do something that says, obviously and unavoidably, that you are available.”

 We spent a few minutes scheming, and by the time Morrigan returned, I figured we had a working plan. It was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done, but I was committed. _Or perhaps I need to be committed. I’m not sure which._

 We headed back to camp when Prince’s barking heralded Morrigan’s return, and I avoided eye contact with Alistair, trying desperately not to blush. He looked at me curiously, and I frantically sought to concentrate on what Morrigan’s news could be, distracting myself from my embarrassment. I didn’t have to wait long.

 Morrigan’s news was a relief, but also seriously concerning, all at the same time. Apparently the gates were entirely unguarded. She spent several minutes watching, and besides a large number of heavily armed mercenary groups moving through, noted nothing interesting. No one watching, definitely no one stopping even the least reputable from passing through. Assuming the more-well-known of our group – Aedan, Alistair, and Leliana, primarily - wore helmets, there was probably no one who would care who we were or what we were doing in Denerim.

 Aedan and Alistair were intensely concerned what it could mean. The city could be teeming with mercenaries who would turn the Grey Wardens in for coin, though blending in might be easy. We wondered what exactly was wrong, and what must have happened for Loghain to have abandoned the gates. We discussed it for a while, every imagined scenario worse than the last, when finally Aedan interrupted our idle speculation.

 “We won’t be able to figure it out until we get there, so we might as well make a plan to get started with. It seems like we might be able to just wander in to the city as we are. As long as we’re all armed and armoured, and wearing helmets, it sounds like we will fit right in.” Morrigan nodded agreement, so Aedan continued. “We will go to the market first, and those who need can get measured to have armour made or repaired before rumours spread of our existence. Sierra tells me she knows of a good armourer. We can then find somewhere to stay, hole up in an inn somewhere. We need to find somewhere we can be inconspicuous. Or at least buy privacy.”

 Zevran and I spoke simultaneously, then turned and grinned at each other. “The Pearl.”

  _Oh God, I can’t wait to see Alistair in a brothel._

 


	41. Denerim Ho!

**Chapter Forty-One: Denerim Ho!**

 “After that, we can split up into groups to accomplish our tasks,” Aedan continued. “We need to check in with Brother Genitivi, deal with Marjolaine, maybe find some work to make a bit of coin, and Sierra wants to talk to a dwarf in the market district. Did I miss anything?” He looked around expectantly. No one spoke. He nodded. “Alright. I’d rather not come to Loghain’s attention, if we can avoid it. Helmets for everyone at all times. Be careful! Now let’s eat, and then get some sleep. We leave at first light.”

 Leliana and Zevran started bickering good-naturedly about what we were going to have for supper. I thought to help, but realised I had a couple of things I needed to ask Aedan before we got to Denerim, just in case.

 “Hey Aedan?”

 “Yes, little sister?” He came over and plopped next to me, smiling tiredly.

 “Little? Who says I’m little? For all you know, I’m your older sister.”

 “No way am I being the youngest of three! You’re the baby, and that’s official.”

 I looked at him and mock-glared. “Well you certainly act like the middle child, I’ll give you that.”

 Alistair, watching the banter, looked confused. “How do middle children act?”

 I sighed. “You know, jokes aren’t funny when you have to explain them. On Earth, there’s a bunch of people who love to blame all their problems in life on being the middle child. Just…never mind.” I shook my head. “Anyway, I have some questions for you, Aedan.”

 Aedan grinned. “What’s that thing you say? Oh yeah. Hit me.”

 I giggled, and punched him on the arm hard, making him wince and complain. Alistair guffawed and fell backwards, overbalanced in his heavy armour. This set off laughter all around the camp as Alistair flailed around on his back, legs askew, cursing indignantly while we laughed. Aedan rubbed his arm ruefully, and gave me a dirty look which I ignored because he couldn’t hold it without his lips curling up into a grin. He finally gave up and joined in the laughter, then shuffled over to help me pull Alistair back upright. Once the hilarity had settled, I faced him again.

 “Seriously, now. I need to know what you know about Dwarven nobility.”

 “What do you mean? From what you’ve said, you probably know more than I do.”

 I stammered slightly, trying to think of a way to explain my dilemma without admitting that on Earth their lives were actually a _game_. They’d accepted the concept of a theatre performance, but I worried what they’d think if they knew just how it was treated.

 “I…alright, so, in the performance, they show some of the things that are happening in other parts of Ferelden around the same time you met Duncan, Aedan. The thing is, I don’t know how much of that is true, and how much might have been fabricated to fill out the details in the story. I know some of it is true – it’s how I knew Solona was in trouble in the Circle, for example – but I don’t know if they got the details correct.”

 His eyes were narrowed, his expression somewhat skeptical, but he didn’t say anything. I knew that he knew I was hiding something. I hoped he’d let it go. Finally he nodded.

 “What do you need to know?”

 “Alright, first…tell me, what are the names of King Endrin’s children? Do you know?”

 Aedan scratched at his stubble irritably, face screwed up in concentration. “I don’t…the eldest is Trian, I remember that. And I think he had a sister and a brother, but I can’t remember their names.”

 “Sereda and Bhelen.” Leliana walked over and sank gracefully to the ground across from us. “Bhelen is the youngest.”

 I looked at her curiously, but she merely shrugged. “Bard, remember? Politics are quite important in my line of work.”

 I grinned at her. “Thanks. And in all your political knowledge, I don’t suppose you’d know what Sereda’s general outlook was like? What sort of person – er, dwarf – she was?”

 “Not really, no. Though I heard a rumour once that she had a paramour from the Warrior Caste. Quite the scandal.”

 I laughed. “Leliana, I love you, you know that, right?” She looked shocked and pleased. “That’s exactly what I needed to know. Listen, this dwarf I want to talk to? He’s the warrior she was involved with.”

 Aedan interrupted. “You keep saying ‘was’. I remember you telling me about a conflict over the dwarven throne, but is Sereda involved?”

 I shook my head. “She’s dead, I expect. Let me start at the beginning. Endrin had three children. Trian was expected to be the heir, but he was unpopular. Too snobbish, not diplomatic enough, too full of himself. Some of the Deshyrs – the dwarven equivalent of a Landsmeet – were muttering about putting Sereda on the throne instead, making Trian paranoid that she was trying to steal his crown. The youngest, Bhelen, took the opportunity to pit the two of them against each other, killing Trian and framing Sereda for it. Which, of course, neatly cleared the path for himself to take the throne. Sereda was sent into the Deep Roads alone to die, and her second, Gorim, was exiled and became a merchant.

 “Unfortunately for Bhelen, Endrin figured it out before he died. There’s even a rumour that Bhelen poisoned his father to hurry things along. Either way, before he died, Endrin named another noble to be his heir, once he realised what Bhelen had done. Now there’s a fight between that noble, a Lord Harrowmont, and Bhelen. When we get there, you’re going to get to choose who becomes King, eventually. The problem is, you’ve got two crappy choices.”

 I rolled my eyes as they all snickered at my earth language. “Okay, okay. So Bhelen is a big sleaze. Killing his siblings, and possibly his father…not the sort I’d want as King. Harrowmont, on the other hand, is completely honourable. Sort of insufferably so, to be honest. But Harrowmont is too stuffy, too traditional. The dwarves are practically on the verge of extinction from the darkspawn, and their traditions are making it impossible for anything to change for the better. Their poor, the casteless, are treated worse than elves in the Alienage, and that’s saying something. No one can choose, or change their station, and the major form of social advancement is for a female to get pregnant with a bastard child from a higher caste and hope it is a boy. Anyone who ever does anything wrong is banished to the surface and never allowed to return. They are slowly destroying themselves.

 “Harrowmont will doom the dwarves, and honestly, he doesn’t have enough support to stay on the throne for long. On the other hand, Bhelen will start to rectify some of the problems if he becomes King, but that still means putting a disgusting excuse for a person on the throne. Plus he’ll disband the council and become a despot when he meets any opposition.”

 “Two crappy choices indeed – the honourable man who’s a terrible King, or the terrible man who makes a not terrible but not wonderful King. So what are you hoping to accomplish by approaching the dwarf in Denerim?” Aedan looked uncomfortable, shifting around and fidgeting. I didn’t blame him – I wouldn’t want to make that choice either.

 “I don’t…know, for sure. Maybe just some perspective. And…I thought we could offer to bring him with us. He’s a talented warrior, and he might like the chance to see Orzammar again. Maybe he’d even want to be a Grey Warden? I don’t know. But I was just thinking that any information he can offer would be good, you know?”

 We all sat quietly, for a moment, considering. I was mostly procrastinating. I had something else to ask Aedan, and I knew it would be even worse than the previous conversation. Finally I sighed. I reached out to rest my hand on Aedan’s.

 “I have another question to ask.”

 “You do know that when you hold my hand in sympathy before the conversation even starts, it sets a certain…dismal tone to the whole thing, right?”

 “Sorry. You’re right, you’re not going to like this one.”

 “Just go on, then, and ask whatever it is that’s going to make me pull out my hair and gnash my teeth.”

 “I…” I hesitated. Alistair took my other hand in silent support, and I sent him a small smile of thanks. “Do you have any idea where Nathaniel Howe is, in the Free Marches?”

 I’d never seen Aedan’s expression change so fast _. From bemused and puzzled, to spiteful and murderous in two words. Well done._ He stared at the fire, refusing to meet my gaze.

 “I never knew Nathaniel well. He and Fergus were friends. Whenever _that man_ visited, I was stuck entertaining Thomas and Delilah.” His anger was tightly controlled, but it frightened me. I tightened my grip on Aedan’s hand, trying to draw him into looking at me.

 “I know, I know. Rendon Howe killed your family. _Our_ family.” I corrected myself with a grimace. “He deserves to die, preferably slowly. I get it. But Aedan…Nate doesn’t know what his father is doing. He’s been in the Free Marches for a decade, and Rendon sent him there because he knew Nathaniel was too honourable to follow in his footsteps. He’s not to blame for what happened. He’s actually…a good guy, surprisingly.”

 Aedan glanced at me, surprise warring with the ongoing anger on his face. “You know Nathaniel?”

 I nodded. “He was in the performance. He came back wanting to kill you, not knowing the truth. You ended up conscripting him into the Grey Wardens. You became friends, eventually.”

 Aedan’s shoulders were tense, his body coiled as if to spring, and he looked away from me again. “If I ever become friends with that…that…murderer’s son, just put me out of my misery. Slit my throat, or something. To answer your question, no, I don’t know where he is. I assumed Kirkwall, but it could have been anywhere, I suppose.”

 He leapt to his feet, obviously agitated, his eyes clouded. “I need to…walk. I’ll be back.”

 He stalked off, anger emanating from him in waves. Prince jumped up and jogged over to his side, Aedan’s hand automatically touching his head as they left camp. I made eye contact with Zevran, who nodded and silently slipped into the woods to follow.

 I slumped, and Alistair’s armoured arm wrapped around me. I turned into him and pressed my face into his neck, more than grateful for his soothing presence. His strong hand rubbed my neck gently, and I hummed.

 “He will come around, you know.” Alistair kept kneading the tense muscles in my neck. I dropped my head, giving him better access.

 “I know. And he will like Nate, I’m sure, after a while. It’s hard for me to see it from his perspective. They may technically have been my parents, but they didn’t raise me. It doesn’t hit me the same way.”

 We sat quietly for a few more minutes, when it occurred to me I had a question for someone else. I looked up at the beautiful bard watching us with a wistful smile.

 “Hey Leli?”

 “Yes?”

 “In Lothering…did you know many of the townsfolk?”

 “Many, but not well. I spent most of my time in solitude or with the other sisters. Why?”

 “Did you ever meet the Hawke family?”

 “I didn’t, although I have heard of them. The oldest girl, Marian, was known to break up the odd bar fight that would break out in Dane’s Refuge. Even the templars were in awe of her fighting skills – she was apparently a talented warrior. Why?”

 “You just told me what I needed to know. Thanks.”

 We finished dinner, ate, and sat by the fire for a while, but Aedan didn’t return. At one point Zevran came into camp briefly, grabbed food for the both of them, and slipped away into the shadows again. Afterwards Alistair and I took turns changing and collapsed into our tent. I couldn’t sleep, at first; between worrying about Aedan and worrying about Denerim, my mind just wouldn’t quiet down. Alistair was equally restless, and we just held each other quietly in the dark. I heard stirring when Aedan and Zevran finally returned to their tent, and then the camp was quiet.

 I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I woke with a start in the morning, jumping right out of my bedroll before I caught myself. It was still dim in the tent, early morning light just starting to filter through the canvas. I glanced over at Alistair to see him still sleeping peacefully. He was curled on his side around a space where I’d obviously spent the night. His face was angelic, asleep; if he wouldn’t have killed me for it, I’d have called him cute. As it was, his chiselled features filled me with a warmth that was anything but maternal, and I couldn’t help myself. I carefully eased myself back into the space I’d vacated, enjoying his warmth surrounding me. He shifted slightly, clutching me to him, and I smiled. I reached up to kiss his chin, then trailed kisses down the side of his neck softly. He woke when my lips reached the neck of his tunic, his hand coming up to fist in my hair and pull my mouth up to his. His lips were soft, his tongue teasing against my own for entry, and I had just moaned and deepened the kiss when someone rapped on the side of the tent with a stick.

 “Rise and shine, lovebirds! Our illustrious, alluring, incredibly handsome leader tells me it is time to move.”

 Alistair pulled away from me with a disappointed moan. I just sighed.

 “Zevran, having my brother called ‘alluring’ in front of me is not making me want to get out of this tent any faster. You know that, right?”

 A mocking laugh was my only response. Alistair wriggled into a sitting position, stretching and yawning like a cat, making me giggle. I leaned out of the way while he grabbed his armour and pulled it on over the clothes he’d worn to sleep. I arched an eyebrow at him.

 “What? We will be staying at an inn tonight. We can have them wash our clothes. Does it really matter how clean they are until then?”

 “Ooh. I wonder if they have any nice smelling soap to wash them in.”

 “If the place is called the Pearl, it must be fairly nice, right? I’m sure they do.”

 I snickered. _Just you wait._ “Ah, yes. Nice. Now would you hurry up so I can get changed? I’m not wearing a nightgown under my armour, thanks.”

 It took probably fifteen minutes for those of us going into Denerim to be ready. We were leaving our tents and camping gear, but we had loaded up all our packs with all the trinkets, armour pieces, and odds and ends Aedan had found and squirreled away during our travels. _I guess Bodahn_ _’s discount was less epic than advertised._ My pack weighed a ton, and I felt bad – I knew I wouldn’t be able to carry it the whole way, so Alistair was going to have to carry two. Though watching him pick them up was always amazing – he lifted both, awkwardly, in one hand like they were nothing. _I wonder if I can get saddlebags made for Prince!_ I giggled and shrugged off a strange look from Aedan, who seemed to be acting as though the discussion the night before had never happened. I was fine to try to forget it – not that it would change what I had planned.

 We all put our helmets on. Leliana and I shared an anxious glance, remembering the lice debacle, but then suited up. Aedan had even found some sort of light leather armour for Wynne. I doubted it would be very functional for her, but I also doubted most mercenary groups had an obvious Circle mage with them. Zevran was quick to compliment her on the outfit, and I thought she might actually throttle him. Ten more minutes of learning amusing Fereldan curse-words later, and we were ready to go.

 It took only an hour to walk from our secluded valley to the gates. We stopped when the gates had just become visible to watch for a few minutes. Morrigan had been right – there were frequently groups of armoured men passing through with no one stopping them. Several heavily-guarded caravans also went through. A closed carriage – pulled by the first horses I’d seen in Ferelden – had more guards than the biggest caravan, and I wondered who was in it. Anora? A carriage didn’t seem Loghain’s style. Aedan signaled us all to move forward once it was out of sight. We marched along almost in step, Aedan and Alistair leading, and I successfully managed not to gape as we passed under the enormous portcullis. I’d never been in a castle, living in Canada my whole life, and the stonework was fascinating to me. It felt a bit like wandering into medieval England or something.

 The portcullis lead into an enormous open square. It vaguely reminded me of the market district from the game, but much, much busier. The chantry occupied one entire edge of the square, all wrought iron and dark stone, looking quite foreboding. It was nothing at all like the quaint churches I’d seen pictures of in medieval England. The middle of the square was a virtual labyrinth of stalls, all occupied by very loud, vehement people insisting on the quality of their wares. There were hundreds of people wandering through, haggling with vendors and talking amongst themselves. Armour clanking, groups of guards and mercenaries hurried around the edges. The amount of noise in the walled-in area was deafening, and I was disoriented for a moment as it overtook me.

 The thing that stood out the most, though, was the smell. It was a combination of boys’ locker room, outhouse, and rotten eggs, and I had to work at suppressing a gag. I could almost taste it on my tongue when I tried breathing through my mouth, and that was worse. I couldn’t see any of my companions’ faces, but based on the hesitation of our group at the edge of the open market, it wasn’t pleasant for any of us. I wondered how long it would take until my poor nose adjusted. I had expected wet dog, not…this.

 Aedan finally took initiative and began leading us across the square. People squeezed around us on all sides as we were swallowed into the press, and the stink of unwashed human became even stronger. I put on hand on the back of Alistair’s armour and held on for dear life, certain that if I were to trip, I’d be trampled before anyone could help me. Holding on had another benefit though – I was able to look around far more than I otherwise would if I had to pay attention to where I was going. So I stared, thankful for the helm that hid my likely stunned expression.

 I noticed almost every stall had at least one armed guard, and the stalls with the most expensive items had several. I whispered to Leliana, who was practically rubbing against my back in an effort to stay close together, if that was normal, and she shook her head. I saw someone who couldn’t have been anyone other than Sergeant Kylon standing at the edge of the throng, his face looking tired and frustrated. I pointed him out to Aedan – I knew they’d never let me go with them, but he could offer some paying work later. I didn’t see anyone who I could recognise as merchants from the game, but there were so many of them it would have been easy to overlook.

 Aedan worked his way up to a stall and asked for Wade’s Emporium. The merchant looked like he was about to shout at Aedan for wasting his time, but he took a second look at a group of six armoured, well-armed people wearing full helms and a mabari, and just mutely pointed. Wade’s shop, as in game, was a small building, not a stall, and stood a little bit away from the busy central area. There were two guards standing outside the door, and they warned us not to make trouble, then stepped aside to let us in. There was another guard standing inside the door.

 As we moved back to the counter where Herren stood, we could hear clanging from behind him, and in another moment we could see Wade himself, working at a forge. The surprisingly small man was throwing nasty looks in the direction of the guard, and appeared to be mumbling to himself, barely paying attention to the piece he was working on. I could see it was a shield – an enormous one, bigger even than Alistair’s. I wondered who carried such a thing. Without looking, totally engrossed in glaring at the guard, he shifted the shield and raised his hammer, and before anyone could cry out to stop him, he brought the hammer down on his own hand. His scream was horrific and made my ears hurt, and the armourer dropped to the ground, clutching at his wrist. There wasn’t much blood, but his fingers were bent unnaturally and the whole thing already appeared to be swelling.

 With an oath, Herren raced to the back of the shop, dropping to the floor beside Wade and throwing his arms around the little man. Wade was keening now, a high-pitched wail of pain, and it made my jaw ache from how hard I was clenching my teeth. I found myself wrapped from behind in Alistair’s arms just as I felt Wynne rush past. Aedan joined her, and Herren let the rogue herd him a few feet away while Wynne tenderly grasped Wade’s mangled hand. Looking at it, I was sure that without healing magic, he would never work again. I felt Wynne’s magic flare, and in moments the screaming stopped. When she released his hand, it looked back to normal.

 Wynne helped him up, and he stood shakily, holding his hand out and staring at it in shock. Herren ran over and grabbed Wynne in a bear hug, spinning her around the room, and we all chuckled. Wynne’s face was red but she looked pleased despite her embarrassment. The rest of us finally made it to the back of the store and officially met Wade and Herren. After introductions had been made – using first names only, and avoiding mention of the Grey Wardens – Herren hurried to the front, had words with the guard, who was ignoring the commotion and leaning lazily by the door, and after some yelling the guard left. Herren stuck his head outside, I assumed to talk to the two stationed there, and then came in and locked the door.

 They actually offered us tea and to have a seat in the back room, which was where they lived. I was right – they were a couple, at least if only one bed was any indication. We all crowded into their tiny living area, Wynne being given a chair while the rest of us sat on the floor, and Herren poured us tea. Only then did Wade go into his tale of woe in typical Wade style, with much gnashing of teeth and bemoaning his fate.

 He told us that several weeks prior, Loghain had withdrawn his troops and most of the guards from the market. He had been using the army to maintain the peace, supplementing the few token guards (and many incapable younger sons of Denerim’s nobility), but with riots in the streets and even the nobles in direct conflict, he had withdrawn all but Kylon and a handful of guards and thrown everything at protecting the Palace and quelling unrest in the area where most of the nobles resided. As a result, for a while, petty theft and organised crime had risen, most of the servants who worked outside the noble district stayed away, and the streets hadn’t been swept or the sewers unclogged in weeks, thus the smell. The merchants had all taken to hiring mercenaries for protection. Of course, the more mercenaries there were in town, the more crime increased, and then the mercenaries had started banding together and extorting money from their former employers.

 Street violence had rapidly disappeared – no one wanted to pickpocket one of the mercenaries, and the different mercenary bands had fought their way into some sort of agreement – but the extortion was ongoing. Wade had been distracted by the ‘guards’ they’d hired, who were now expecting protection money and not really protecting him anymore, and his injury had been the result.

 They hadn’t heard any news of what was happening in the noble’s district, and the docks were unchanged, though many of the mercenaries had banded together and rented warehouses to bed down in instead of inn rooms, to my relief. I had suddenly pictured us unable to rent rooms. The Alienage was still closed, though it was apparently not that hard to sneak in given the lack of guards. Vaughn Kendalls had been reported deceased, and Howe was the Arl of Denerim.

 To my surprise, Aedan admitted to Wade that they were Grey Wardens. He’d been the one most adamant that no one blurt that secret. I didn’t think Wade and Herren would turn us in, especially with Wynne having healed him, but it still made me a bit nervous. Both men, however, were quite welcoming. They told us that one of the biggest bones of contention in the city was Loghain’s claim that the Grey Wardens had betrayed the King – apparently several of the nobles who’d been with the army vanguard had survived and contradicted his assertions. A couple of the more outspoken ones had been imprisoned within the Arl of Denerim’s estate.

 After much discussion, we got down to the business that had brought us to the armourer in the first place – armour. Wade insisted on doing the repairs on our armour for free, and after salivating after the drake scales and dragon scales we had brought, insisted on making armour for Aedan and Zevran from the drake, and some heavy plate for Alistair from the dragon scales. Aedan offered him money to bump our orders to the top of his list, but he refused that coin as well. They also offered to pay us quite well for the scavenged armour we were planning to sell – Herren thought he might be able to pay the mercenaries in armour, and the pieces Wade couldn’t repair he could use for parts. Wade and Herren were effusive in their thanks to us for Wynne’s healing, and even Herren refused money, but we all felt a little like we were taking advantage.

 Aedan looked thoughtful while Wade was discussing the weight of the armour with Alistair, and seemed to make up his mind on something. I raised my eyebrow at him, but he just shook his head. Wade took measurements on everyone whose armour he was making or repairing; for me, all he was doing was making some adjustments to the breastplate and repairing one torn bracer. Aedan had tried to convince me to get a heavier set of armour, but Wade actually helped me talk him out of it. Not only was I not strong enough to wear it, but what little skill I had in battle came from being mobile. His adjustments to my armour were mostly to enhance that mobility; decreasing it with heavier armour just didn’t make sense. He loaned Leli a spare pair of leather pants until hers could be fixed.

 Once we were finally set, we thanked Wade and Herren for their help and the information. We headed out, and I saw Aedan pull aside one of the mercenaries and talk to him quietly while we all filed through the door. We formed up and headed out into the chaos of the market. Now that we knew what was going on, things were much more obvious. The merchants were afraid of their own guards, and small groups of more heavily armed, intimidating looking mercenaries were circulating, stopping to talk with individual merchants. They didn’t even try to hide the pouches of coin changing hands. Aedan’s shoulders stiffened, and I knew we were probably all equally irritated.

 Even the Chantry had only a few templars guarding it, and standing in a line in front of them were more mercenaries. I wasn’t religious, and definitely not Andrastian, but it sickened me to know that these people had so little respect as to shake down their own church. And that the church was afraid enough to allow it.

 Aedan headed us out of the market towards the docks. We wandered initially through wide thoroughfares, populated only by small groups of people scurrying along; no one made eye contact, and several people skirted around us like we were wild animals. It didn’t improve our impression of the mercenary groups any, if everyone was terrified of anyone in armour. Further from the market, the roads got narrower, and muddier. A few sketchy back alleys gave me the creeps, but either we looked intimidating enough or we just got lucky and we were left alone.

 As we approached the docks, the areas we passed through got seedier and seedier.   There was garbage in the street, the buildings were ramshackle and some looked like they were one strong wind from total collapse. I’d warned Alistair that we were headed to a brothel, much to everyone’s disappointment –they had all been looking forward to watching Alistair figure it out on his own, but as amusing as that would have been, it didn’t feel fair – but despite that, his posture got more and more rigid. I couldn’t see his face with the full helm, but I could imagine his eyebrows rising into his hairline. It made me giggle, and something similar must have occurred to Leli because she started giggling too.

 We finally reached the Pearl, which was obvious from the hanging sign of an open oyster with a pearl in the middle. I tried not to shudder too hard when I realised they’d tried to make the pink part of the oyster resemble a woman’s nether regions. _Gross!_ I crossed my fingers that Alistair wouldn’t notice. _Mind you, given that he’s probably never seen a woman’s nethers, I doubt I have much to worry about._ There were a couple of large, armoured men standing outside the door, letting people in. In contrast to the mercenaries in the market, these ones looked huge, alert, and efficient. I had no doubt these were the enforcers hired by the proprietors to protect their staff, not mercenaries. One of the men put a hand on Aedan’s shoulder, and he threatened grave bodily harm if we misbehaved inside. Aedan nodded stiffly; I was guessing he was weighing the relative merits of beating the man to a pulp, but decided not to.

 Anxious, I followed everyone inside.

 I’d never been in a brothel. It was illegal, where I had lived, and even had it not been, it didn’t hold a whole lot of appeal for me. The Pearl was nothing like I’d expected. At first glance, I’d have thought it was an Irish pub. It smelled of beer – or was it ale? I’d never been much of a drinker and I wasn’t clear on the difference – and while the light was dim, you could still easily see. There was a duo playing music on a little stage in the corner, one with some sort of pipe, the other with a lute. There was a dance floor, and couples reeled around, laughing gaily. Most of the tables were cozy booths with candles in holders.

 When I looked again, though, certain things stood out. The tables were occupied by far more men than women, and it was clear few if any of the couples dancing were actually together – they changed partners with almost every dance. The women were dressed provocatively, at least by Ferelden standards. There were none in lingerie, but the dresses were low cut in front and had high slits up the side, and garters with stockings were visible on most. And if you watched, asses were being grabbed all over the room if the women didn’t jump quickly enough.

 There were also what I assumed were male prostitutes, but they were a lot less prominently displayed, staying to the back, avoiding the dance floor. They were dressed sort of ridiculously, overall, in lacy clothes and tight pants, and there were one or two clear cross-dressers as well.

 Periodically, after a whispered conversation, someone would grab one of the prostitutes and disappear through a door at the back, only to return several minutes later looking somewhat disheveled. Often the return was greeted with jeering and catcalls from the person’s friends. The place wasn’t completely full, but there was no shortage of clients, which surprised me given it was only mid-afternoon.

 As we moved as a group across the room, the only one appearing even vaguely comfortable was Zevran. I clung to Alistair’s hand, and Leliana and Wynne stuck close to the guys too. We drew a few speculative looks, but the armour made it clear we weren’t working girls, and Alistair’s and Aedan’s hands on their weapons were clear enough threats that we were left alone. We approached the bar, and Aedan exchanged words with an older looking woman who I assumed to be Sanga, if memory served. They talked for a few minutes, and some coin was exchanged, then Aedan was handed three keys and we were pointed towards a different door leading to a steep set of stairs. There was a narrow hallway, and our rooms were at the end, clumped together. Wynne and Leliana were sharing a room with two narrow beds, while Aedan and Zevran shared one and Alistair and I shared another. No one had even looked strangely at Prince, and he followed Aedan into their room. We agreed to meet downstairs for supper in a couple of hours.

 And then I was standing in front of my room, key in hand, with Alistair lurking over my shoulder. I was suddenly, inexplicably nervous, and I fumbled with the keys a couple of times as I struggled to unlock the door. I finally got it, and the door popped open, swinging wide to show a good sized room with a large bed, thick throw rugs, and a small curtained-off area I presumed contained a chamber pot. There was a large armoire, which we opened and put both our bags in, and a small table near the door with one wooden chair.

 Still somewhat nervous, I looked over at Alistair, who’d removed his full helm. His face was red, his ears almost fluorescent, and he was avoiding making eye contact. I took his helm from him, tossing it carelessly on the bed, and stepped close to him, putting my arms around his waist and burying my face in his shoulder. He hesitated only a moment before he wrapped his own arms around me. We stood like that, just enjoying the comfort of being together, for a few minutes, until we heard knocking on the door.

 “Sierra? It’s Aedan. We’re going to ask to have our clothing laundered. Want to send yours down too?”

 I opened the door and let Aedan in while we dug through our packs and piled up dirty clothing. I ducked behind the curtain and quickly changed into a relatively clean dress, sending my armour to be cleaned as well. Alistair then shucked his plate, and changed out of his under-armour clothes behind the screen also. Alistair helped Aedan carry the pile of clothes downstairs, and I took the opportunity to hand wash my own underwear and bras. I couldn’t imagine what the washerwomen would have thought of spandex and elastic.

 When Alistair returned, I was sprawled across the large bed, enjoying the feeling of having an actual mattress with real pillows for a change. Alistair cracked up when he entered, but closed the door and joined me without delay. I scooted over to make room, and we laid facing each other on the bed. Looking at his handsome face on a pillow from such a close vantage point gave me butterflies in my stomach, especially when I thought about the plans I had agreed to with Leliana for the night. I kissed him to quell my nerves, and his gentle hands on my face and back calmed my fears. How long we laid there I couldn’t guess.

 We separated to have baths; the Pearl had amazing bathing facilities with sunken tubs that could have comfortably held four at a time. I tried not to think too hard on the fact that they probably had, and frequently did, hold more than one. At least the water was fresh; they had some sort of pulley system outside the window and a dedicated fire to heat water below; a young man brought an enormous bucket of steaming water through the window and filled the tub while I watched. They had a variety of soaps and shampoos, and I enjoyed soaking in lavender-scented water. When I got out, I even spent a few minutes fixing my hair; it was still damp, but I arranged it in soft curls around my face as the servant at Redcliffe had, smiling at myself in the mirror as I put my dress back on.

 I was finally interrupted by another knock on the door. I opened the door to an impatient Leliana with a wry grin on her face.

 She squealed when she saw me. “You look so beautiful! Alistair won’t know what hit him.” I blushed and she continued. “But what do you have on your feet? Those wretched boots again? Tomorrow we are going shoe shopping. I mean it. Anyways, the reason I came up is that we’re hungry! Everyone’s downstairs already waiting for you. Hurry, yes?”

 I sent her on ahead, needing to use the facilities anyway and being too embarrassed to do it with Alistair around. I did my business, resorting to using some leaves I had left over in my pack when I discovered that what passed for toilet paper was a well-used stick covered in woven fabric. I cringed and tried to avoid looking at the offending implement as I emptied the chamber pot out the window. This was apparently standard; I made a mental note not to linger underneath any windows in Denerim, ever. Finally set, I headed down the stairs.

 The light was a little dimmer than before in the main room, and I assumed the sun was low and being blocked by neighbouring buildings. I paused at the bottom of the stairs letting my eyes adjust. I spotted my friends at a table along one wall, but with a quick headcount realised there was an extra body at the table. I watched for a moment, confused by the presence of an unknown brunette on the bench next to Alistair. Her skin was olive, her hair tied back with a loose handkerchief, and as I heard her laugh heartily at something Alistair had said, I realised I had forgotten a very important thing about the Pearl: Isabela.


	42. Piracy

Chapter Forty-Two: Piracy

 The pirate looked a little like a cross between the original game version and the sequel, and I could see that with different clothes and hair she could go either way. One thing that was the same between both was the amount of skin on display. As I moved around the room, I could see Isabela wore a white shirt, unbuttoned down almost to her navel, and I was curious about what sort of undergarment made her cleavage strain like that yet not allow a boob to pop out. She wore a skirt that was really a glorified belt, boots that came just above her knees, and nothing else.

 As she talked to my companions, she casually leaned into Alistair’s side, and I figured from the movement of her arms that she’d just put a hand on his thigh. His expression was a mix of discomfort and embarrassment, his face was beet red, and he leaned away as far as he could without falling off the bench. I was seeing red; not angry with Alistair, who was clearly completely out of his element, but still jealous as hell. I slipped behind him, and my movement caught Aedan’s eye. He smirked at me, and I realised the rest of my companions were watching with equally obvious amusement at my poor Chantry virgin’s plight. My glare at Aedan netted me only an unrepentant shrug. _I’ll get you later, brother._ My vision hazed a little more scarlet as I understood that any of them could have rescued him.

 I walked up behind Alistair, coming around to the side of the bench he sat on. I put one hand on his shoulder, swivelled to put my knee on the bench at his side, and before he could even react, swung my other leg over to straddle his lap. I barely even heard the amused chuckles of everyone else at the table as I plastered myself to Alistair, my lips crashing down on his in a passionate kiss. After a brief hesitation, his arms surrounded me, one hand tangling in my hair and the other holding me close at the waist. Either his surprise was short-lived, or his relief at being saved from Isabela’s attentions was just that intense, because his response was enthusiastic. His tongue probed at my lips insistently, and I moaned as I opened my mouth and let him in.

 The chuckles from behind me morphed into catcalls and cheers, and I reluctantly pulled away, instead cuddling my cheek in to Alistair’s shoulder, facing the Rivaini pirate. She appraised me with one eyebrow raised, and her gaze raked over my body.

 “Hey Isabela?” I spoke loudly enough for the entire table to hear, even over the music. “Get your own. This one’s spoken for, and I don’t like to share.”

 Isabela smirked. “Oh, I apologise, sweet thing. Had I known he was with someone…”

 “You did. And you didn’t care. And you’d be just as happy to bed the both of us. I know. It’s okay, I forgive you. I don’t even blame you – he’s gorgeous, isn’t he? Just keep your hands to yourself, and maybe we can be friends.”

 She laughed. “Fair enough. Though, just out of curiosity…is he as good as he looks?”

 I grinned. “Better. Much, much better.” I licked my lips lasciviously, feeling smug as pure jealousy flashed across her face. I felt Alistair startle under me, and squeezed his arm reassuringly. I lowered my voice. “You might want to try Zev and my brother, Aedan. They’re a little more…adventurous than we are.” I nodded across the table towards the two men, who were absorbed in a quiet conversation now that their entertainment was over.

 Isabela’s eyes lit up, and she straightened her hair before oozing off the bench and heading around the table. I giggled and buried my face in Alistair’s shoulder, just enjoying him holding me. He bent his neck, his mouth practically on my ear, his breath stirring my hair, and a lick of heat curled through my insides.

 “You’re really going to aim _that_ at Aedan? That wasn’t very nice.”

 I tilted my head back and chuckled again. “Neither was them leaving you to deal with a horny pirate. We owe him one.”

 “We?”

 “You don’t think he left you floundering with that woman solely to watch you squirm, do you? He wanted to laugh at me. He succeeded. Now he’s going to pay.”

 Alistair chuckled in my ear. “Well that should be…interesting. To say the least. Uh…Sierra?”

 “Yes, love?”

 “Why did you tell her that, uh, I am…um…?”

 I could practically feel the blush on his face. “Good? Can’t blame a girl for wanting to flaunt what she’s got. Isabela’s practically green with envy. I couldn’t help myself.” I giggled, and felt him relax slightly.

 His hand was still in my hair, and he took advantage to tilt my head a bit and press a kiss to my ear. I cocked my head further, encouraging him, then sucked in a breath when he took the hint and captured my earlobe between his lips. I clenched my fists, reflexively, and wiggled slightly in his lap, only to encounter a firm lump that I was bumping up against. He gasped at the same time that I groaned, suddenly insanely turned on. I was contemplating teasing him further when we were interrupted by a hand on each of our shoulders.

 I looked up to find Leliana smiling at both of us, eyes twinkling. “You are very cute, really, but I have to suggest you think about finding another venue for this sort of activity. Otherwise every man in this room is going to assume you are-“ She cleared her throat awkwardly before continuing, “-available. If you know what I mean.”

 I blushed scarlet; I’d not even considered what our behaviour would look like in the common room of a brothel. Alistair’s face was equally red, and we both hurried to rearrange ourselves. I slid out of his lap and sat in the spot Isabela had vacated; he crossed his legs in an effort to hide the bulge. Leliana sat on the other side of me, and I realised that somehow Isabela had managed to push Leli off of the bench opposite us and insinuate herself between Aedan and Zevran. Zev was smirking as he watched her playing cards with a boggled Aedan. I laughed, and heard Alistair chuckle beside me.

 A waitress came over carrying multiple plates; mine had roasted potatoes and some sort of fowl, I assumed pheasant, as well as some limp looking green vegetable that vaguely resembled broccoli. Alistair told me the other options on the menu would ‘not have been to my liking’, and I took it to mean they were serving rabbit or something else cute and furry. I dug into the pheasant with gusto; it was amazing to have actual food, for once, instead of vague stew-like concoctions with whatever we could scavenge or find along the way. Alistair laughed and teased me about being worse than a new Grey Warden, but only around mouthfuls of his own pheasant.

 She swung back with drinks a moment later; it turned out Zevran had ordered me a glass of some sort of wine. I didn’t normally drink alcohol, but I didn’t think I’d get water if I asked for it, and it was definitely better than ale. I took a cautious sip – it was actually a bit sweet, and not totally objectionable. _Huh. Zevran can guess my taste in wine? I really do have a family._ I raised my glass to him, and he flashed me one of his few genuine smiles.

 Our dinner entertainment was watching Aedan try to fend off Isabela. For all that he’d been laughing at Alistair for the same thing, the poor boy had absolutely no idea how to manage the busty pirate. As for Isabela, she had clearly determined that they key to being invited into bed with the couple was to get Aedan to agree without realising just what he’d agreed to. Leliana, Alistair and I giggled through the entire meal, while Wynne shot disapproving looks in everyone’s direction, and Zev just watched his lover with a bemused smirk.

 It was sort of like the pirate was an octopus; every time Aedan removed one of her extremities from his person, another draped itself around him. And that’s when she wasn’t cheating at cards and betting for kisses. I just about died trying to keep from bursting out laughing.

 After a while, Wynne excused herself and went back to her room, and the air of judgement hanging over everyone seemed to lift a little. I loved Wynne, I really did, as I might have loved a grandmother, but I didn’t enjoy the feeling when she directed that holier-than-thou glare at me.

 Over the course of the evening, the volume in the place rose, until I could no longer even hear Aedan verbally fencing with Isabela. The music got a bit louder, but mostly it was laughter and shouting from the ever-more-inebriated clients at the tables around us. I was trying to have a conversation with Leliana, who I thought was at me again about my shoes, but finally gave it up as a bad job. Alistair had his arm tightly around my waist, and his face was slightly pink as he looked around the room, inevitably catching the eye of one of the prostitutes or another who would wink in his direction.

 Leliana wandered off after a bit to go closer to the musicians, and ended up on stage before long playing along on a spare lute someone had found. Alistair shouted in my ear that he was going to go get us more drinks, and motioned to Zevran to join him. I sat alone on the bench, just watching the people, fascinated. I tried not to stare at anyone for too long to avoid angering anyone or drawing attention. My gaze wandered over to the bar and Alistair periodically, and I saw him gesturing while speaking into Zevran’s ear. The elf, nodding, reached into one of his myriad pockets, and handed something to Alistair. I was puzzled, but dismissed it until I saw Alistair tip his hand and drop something in his own mug of ale.

 I looked at Alistair as they approached the table, but he gave me an innocent look and sat down; it was too loud to really have a conversation. Zevran sat across from me, refusing to make eye contact, and I started feeling uncomfortable. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him - despite being an assassin, I knew Zev would never do anything to actually hurt Alistair – but there was a lot of room for practical joking without hurting him, and I had plans for that night.

 After downing half of his ale, Alistair excused himself to use the facilities, and I nodded. When I was sure he was gone, I gave Zevran a pointed look. He shrugged at me, looking nonchalant, but when my brow wrinkled in irritation, he reached over, grabbed Alistair’s mug, and took a healthy swig. The point was obvious, even without being able to talk; Zevran wouldn’t have drank it if it was something too horrible. Without any obvious recourse, short of dragging the elf out of there and interrogating him, I chose to trust in him and let it go.

 I was still alone on my bench, watching the dance floor off to my right, when I suddenly felt a presence to my left. I looked over to see a stranger, a swarthy, unwashed fellow with yellow teeth. When he opened his mouth and spoke, while I couldn’t hear what he said, the smell of his breath allowed me to infer that anything he said would be slurred beyond recognition anyway. He was clearly drunk, and swayed on the bench as if to prove the point.

 I tried to tell him the seat was taken, but he could no more hear me than I could him. I tried to shoo him away with gestures, but in his condition he didn’t seem to be catching on. He shouted something again, the only word I could pick out being ‘classy’, and then before I could blink, he had slapped some coins on the table, wrapped one arm around my shoulders, rested the other hand on my knee, and was leaning in with his eyes closed and a sickening leer on his face.

 Shocked, I was frozen for a moment while the fact that he assumed I was a prostitute, albeit apparently a classy one, registered. Before I had a chance to decide what to do about that, his hand was violently ripped off of my leg at the same time that his face disappeared from my personal space. I looked up to see Alistair standing there, his face almost purple with rage, one big hand around the man’s neck, the other pulling his wrist up behind his back, hard. He shouted something in the man’s ear, and the drunkard paled, nodding rapidly and cringing. Alistair released his arm to gather up the coins he had put down and drop them into the drunk’s palm. He spoke again, and then gave a shove, and with a shriek the sleaze went stumbling across the room.

 He came to rest rather violently against another man, who turned with a snarl and pushed him in another direction. In the process, the second man bumped against a neighbouring table, and dumped several drinks into the laps of their owners. One of the now-damp men stood and started shouting, and pretty soon it was like a Hollywood brawl. More and more people were drawn in as people and booze started flying. It couldn’t have been more perfect if it was choreographed.

 While I was staring at the scrum like a dimwit, Zevran, Aedan, and Isabela had leapt to their feet, and Alistair had snagged his mug and my glass from the table, shoving them into my hands and then lifting me bodily from the bench. With his hands on my hips, he propelled me across the place towards the door that led to our rooms. We had to duck, a couple of times, as mugs flew overhead, and I stumbled as someone slammed into Alistair’s back and nearly knocked both of us to the floor; I thanked God silently for Alistair’s impressive muscles as he halted our descent and started me moving again.

 We finally made it to the stairs, and at his urging, I sprinted up them. The volume declined as we climbed, and I could finally hear again. Aedan and Zevran were stomping behind us, and right behind them I heard Isabela urging us to go faster. I had a brief moment to wonder why Isabela was scampering away – it seemed like the bar brawl would be right up her alley – but I was too winded to ask. I didn’t stop, hitting the top of the stairs running and just continuing down the hall to our room. When it seemed I was again going to fumble with the key, Alistair snagged it out of my hand, moved me aside by the gentle expedient of lifting me out of the way, and opened it himself. I got one last glimpse of the back of Aedan’s head before I was urged through the door and it was closed behind me.

 I collapsed into the one chair, breathless, putting our glasses on the table while Alistair turned and barred the door behind us. By the time he was done, my fear and momentary shock had subsided and the humour inherent in the situation had hit. I started to laugh, silently at first, and when Alistair saw me shaking he must have assumed I was crying; he knelt down in front of me, his hands gentle on my shoulders, concern written all over his face. That struck me as even funnier, and the laughter finally bubbled out of me. I fell forward, helplessly, into Alistair’s waiting arms, trying unsuccessfully to stifle the noise with my fist. Alistair slowly lowered us to the ground, me in his lap, as I shook with the suppressed mirth.

 I finally heard Alistair’s sigh, followed by a reluctant chuckle, and my giggles died off. I sat, skirt askew, face pressed into his shirt, and wiped my tears on my own sleeve before wrapping my arms around him. He rested his chin on my head, and I felt the rumble almost as much as I heard the words.

 “Why is it that every time I let you out of my direct line of sight, some other man is trying to…to…take advantage of you?”

 I snickered.

 “Seriously. I can’t turn my back for one minute without someone trying to rape you, or grope you, or apparently pay you for unspecified ‘services’.”

 I giggled again, snuggling in tighter, and he laughed before planting a kiss on the top of my head.

 “You must think terrible things about Fereldan men.”

 I looked up, smiling, into his expressive, sweet face. “Not all Fereldan men.”

 He leaned down, stopping with his lips just a hair’s width away from mine. “Thank the Maker for that.” He closed the distance and pressed a soft kiss onto my lips.

 I pulled away, reaching up to grab my wine and take a sip. I smirked up at him. “So, jealous much?”

 His eyes twinkled even as he frowned at me. “Me? No way. Unh uh. I don’t get jealous. I was just…protecting you! Yes, that’s it. He clearly had evil intentions.”

 “Right. Of course. Evil-intentioned falling-down-drunks.” I smirked more.

 “And anyways, who’re you to talk about jealousy? Look at you with Isabela.” He looked triumphant, and I blushed slightly.

 “At least I didn’t threaten to murder her! Or try to turn her into a projectile weapon.”

 “I almost thought you might end up wrestling with her. It was a close call.”

 “You wish!”

 We both cracked up again, and I finally scrambled up from Alistair’s lap.   When I glanced at him, his face was red, and he was trying hard not to stare. I looked down and realised that somewhere in there the skirt of my dress had gotten tucked up and static held it in place, revealing one leg to just above the knee. I grinned, wiggling the appendage.

 “Like what you see?”

 Alistair jumped like he’d been shot. “Wha-? I didn’t see anything. I’m not some sort of drooling lecher! I wasn’t even looking at your legs. I mean, um, or anywhere else. What? Stop looking at me like that.” He hopped up, face scarlet, and pointedly avoided eye contact, staring at the wall behind me and taking a drink from his mug to cover his discomfort. I howled in laughter.

 “Seriously? You’ve seen me mostly naked, you’ve had your hand on my breast, and looking at my leg gets you that embarrassed?”

 His eyes flickered to my face, carefully staying above the shoulders. “I am a gentleman. Is that such a bad thing?”

 I stepped up to him, taking his mug and putting it and my glass back on the table. I cuddled into his chest. “Not at all. In fact, it’s one more reason that I love you. Won’t stop me from teasing you about it though.”

 His smile was radiant and I felt it like the sun on my face. I basked for a minute before finally pulling away.

 


	43. Best Laid Plans

Chapter Forty-Three: Best Laid Plans

 “So, I had something to ask you.” His tone was strange, but I couldn’t place it.

 I stepped across the room, gathering up the pile of clothes I’d left at the foot of the bed when I’d unpacked earlier. “Keep talking. I’m going to change my clothes. Why don’t you change out here?”

 I ducked into the curtained area, forcing myself to take a deep breath to calm my nerves. As if spending my first night in a bed with a man wasn’t enough to make me anxious, the plans I’d hatched with Leliana left me almost hyperventilating. _I need to focus._ Changing took me only seconds. I planned to spend however long it took Alistair to change trying fervently not to pass out.

 “So, you were saying? You had a question for me?”

 “Well, sort of. I…Hmm. How do I say this? You’d think it would be easier, but every time I’m around you I feel as if my head’s about to explode. I can’t think straight!”

 I froze in the middle of running my fingers through my hair nervously. _It couldn’t be._

“I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered, Alistair.” My voice was wavering, my nerves showing through, and I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

 There was a strange hitch in his voice too. “I…uh…please don’t be offended. It’s definitely a compliment. Here’s the thing. Being near you makes me crazy, but I can’t imagine being without you. Not ever. Maybe this is too fast – I don’t know – but I know what I feel. I wanted to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place…but when will it be perfect? If everything were perfect, we never would have met.”

  _It couldn’t be, but it is. Maker, but we have ridiculous timing._ I was briefly proud of myself for thinking in Fereldan curse words. I stepped out from behind the curtain. He was wearing only his soft sleep trousers, as I knew he would be. My plan was always to catch him off guard and half dressed, but when I had imagined it, he wasn’t propositioning me at the same time. The realisation that he wanted me – really, really wanted _me_ – sent tendrils of heat racing up and down my spine.

 Alistair’s back was to me, his skin practically glowing in the candlelight, his glorious muscles shifting as he searched through his pack. I knew what he was looking for, knew he wouldn’t find it.

 I cleared my throat, interrupting him as he opened his mouth to continue. “Are you looking for something, love?”

 He jumped a little, but didn’t turn around. “Huh? Oh. Yeah, my tunic. I swear I had put it on the bed, but I can’t find it anywhere. Have you seen it?”

 “This tunic?”

 As he turned, I held out my arms, waiting. My gaze was glued to his face, and I couldn’t breathe. When he caught sight of me, he froze, staring, his mouth slightly open.

 I was wearing nothing but his sleeping tunic, the last piece of relatively clean laundry he had kept out when we sent our clothes to be washed. It was off-white, though I guessed it probably started out actually white. It was enormous on me – it hung down past mid-thigh, could have wrapped around me twice if I’d cut the seam, and it smelled of him. From his vantage point, with the candle behind me, I was sure he could see the outline of my body through the well-worn fabric. One shoulder protruded through the neck of the garment, peeking out through the mass of my hair which was down, for once, still curly after my bath earlier.

 I was feeling self-conscious and afraid, and I had to actively think about breathing, drawing slow breaths in through my mouth, trying not to faint. I was debating what to say – try to break the ice? Try to pull off the seductress act? – and completely blanked. I might as well have been mute. When Alistair didn’t speak for a while either, I dropped my eyes, looking away and biting my lip anxiously.

  _Maybe he doesn’t want this. Maybe I misunderstood, heard what I wanted to._ I was having a panic attack. All of a sudden I knew. In the game, Alistair only ever fell in love with a female Grey Warden. And what was I? A stupid, helpless, useless girl. I had been fooling myself.

 I heard quick steps, and then Alistair was there, his gentle hands on my face, lifting to look him straight in the eye as he hunched over to be closer to my height.

 “Hey, hey. Sierra. Come back to me. Stop thinking about that guy. It’s just me.”

 I was completely confused. I’d expected him to either touch me, or to reject me…not to ask me about some other guy. “What? What guy?”

 “That other Alistair. The one from your performance. I’m not that guy, okay? I’m right here. The one who makes an ass out of himself at every opportunity. Pricks his thumb on the thorn of a romantic gesture. Who’s loved you since the day we met.” He straightened, his expression frustrated. “I’m not that other guy who doesn’t know you. I can always tell when you’re thinking about him. You go all distant, and I can see you’re a million miles away. And it’s always when you’re feeling insecure about us. You think about him, expecting a certain response because it’s how _he_ would respond. But I’m not that guy! I’m real. I’m right here. I love you. I just…I need you to stay here, with me. I’m sure the reality doesn’t measure up to what you expected, but I need you, Sierra. Please.”

 I had tears in my eyes by the time he was done. _He knows me so well! How did that happen?_ Because he was exactly right. My Alistair wasn’t the game Alistair. Things had changed. I had changed them, for better or for worse. And this Alistair…he deserved more than constantly being compared to someone who didn’t really exist. He’d been living in a shadow, a shadow of my own making, and it was a shadow that made me insecure and keep trying to push him away. From the first moment we met, I was hiding behind that shadow. I squared my shoulders, resolving not to do it again. This was my Alistair. I would take him at face value, not assume he’d suddenly become the shadow. I would take my life back and make it what I wanted, what I always feared I’d never have, and I wouldn’t let the fear get in my way.

 “You have to understand.” I swallowed nervously, and continued. “This was hard for me.” I turned, unable to look into his eyes for this. “I loved him before you and I even met. Or, I suppose, I would have, had I known he was real. I was lonely, and he was…perfect, in a word. But fairy tales don’t come true, you know. I spent twenty-four years learning that the hard way. So when I met you…I knew it couldn’t be real. It was just a fantasy, and one that would get me hurt. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.”

 I turned back, taking his hands and replacing them on my cheeks before covering them with my own, smiling softly. I went up on tip toes, leaning in to kiss his lips lightly. “You’re right about me. I’m sorry. I’ve been so afraid of him, of what it would mean to be with him…I didn’t see that I’m not. I’m with you. But you’re wrong about something.” I kissed his cheek gently, leaning in further. “The reality is so, so much better. Better than I ever imagined. I love you, Alistair Theirin. You. Not him. I’m sorry I didn’t see it until now.”

 I rubbed his nose with my own, and he smiled. _He really is my own personal sunshine._ When he was happy, everything was right with the world. Suddenly I didn’t care – not about what anyone else thought, not about what would happen in the future; not even about whether we were about to have sex. As long as I could be with him, I’d take what I could get and be thankful for every second of it. And I knew – my Alistair loved me. Wanted me. And I wanted to hear what he had to say next, instead of fearing it.

 I prompted him. “I interrupted you, earlier. You were asking me something.”

 “I was?” He’d gotten entirely distracted, which had been the point, though it didn’t turn out the way I had planned.

 I giggled. “Yes. You started by telling me I make your head explode. Then you told me something about how the timing isn’t perfect. I was hoping you might finish that line of thought, or was that all? I make you crazy, and it’s not perfect?”

 He flushed, dropping his hands in embarrassment, though I held on to them so he couldn’t get away. His smile faded a bit. “…Oh. Right. That. Um.” He gulped, nervous, and examined my face for a long, serious moment. I saw an echo of my own fear of rejection, and watched him over-ride it. His smile returned, a smirk really, as his gaze travelled from my face, down over my scantily-clad torso and my bare legs, then back to my face. “I think you know where I was going with that.”

 I grinned, face flushing under the smug scrutiny. “I know where he would have been going with that. You, I can’t be sure.”

 His eyes twinkled and his grin widened. “What’s that the Orlesians say? Touché.” I giggled. “I deserved that. So allow me to pick up where I left off. You do make me crazy, but I can’t imagine being without you. Not ever. Watching you downstairs, when that man grabbed you…and having Isabela leering at me like that made me realise. You know I’ve never,” he licked his lips, nervous again, “done anything like this before. But…Maker’s breath. I love you. More than I thought possible. Anytime anyone else even looks at you I want to run them through with my sword. I can’t wait, hoping against hope no one will steal you out from under me. But even if I lose you tomorrow…I want to be with you. Here. Tonight.”

 I watched his face closely. Nervousness, undoubtedly, but no hesitation. No reluctance. “Are you sure?” I smiled softly and touched his cheek, the way I had the first time he’d told me he loved me. “Because I’m not strong enough to say no.”

 We both grinned, the memory sweet. Suddenly he reached out for me, pulling me into a tight embrace. He cradled my head against his chest, his arms locked around me, and I stroked my own hands down his back. I breathed in deeply, smelling only soap and a man-smell I’d associated with him from the first time I’d ever hugged him. His bare chest was almost scorching against my cheek, and the heat of his hands on my back was noticeable through the thin fabric of my only clothing. My breasts were mashed up against his belly, and I could feel a bulge against my own abdomen. I groaned softly, my amusement turning to arousal in seconds.

 He leaned down to kiss me, and I extracted my arms to wrap them around his neck. It started soft and sweet, but then I felt his tongue hesitantly touch my lip and I opened for him, allowing my own tongue to be drawn into a complicated duel. His hands roamed down my back, and he swallowed my moan as he cupped my almost-bare ass in his big hands, pulling me closer to him.

 “Bed,” he gasped, turning us to try to back me towards the furniture in question.

 Equally breathless, I made a negative noise low in my throat. “Lose the pants.”

 He pulled back, surprise written on his handsome features. “But…I’d only have my smallclothes on, then.”

 “And I’m not wearing any smallclothes. You’re overdressed, Chantry boy.” I stroked my hand over the bulge in his trousers just once, and he growled, sending shivers up my spine.

 “Sierra…”

 His voice was low and consumed with lust, and it sent sparks straight to my nether regions. _Maker, I love his accent. Especially when he says my name like that…_ I squirmed slightly, and with a groan he grabbed the ties to his trousers, pushing them off in one hurried motion. I watched unabashedly, staring at his almost naked body. His skin was still slightly luminescent in the candlelight, only a light dusting of coarse, blond hair in a trail disappearing beneath his smallclothes. He’d shaved his face before we entered Denerim, and was now sporting just a little bit of stubble on his chin, which suited him well. The muscles in his legs, which I’d never seen unclothed before, matched his shoulders and chest for definition. And the bulge barely hidden by the scrap of linen he called smallclothes was sticking out proudly. _Oh my!_ Overall, he made my mouth water.

 While he stripped, his eyes never left me. When done, he reached down, and before I could object, picked me up bridal style, my head on his left shoulder, his right arm under my knees. I gasped and wrapped my arm around his neck.

 “Don’t drop me.”

 “Seriously? I’ve carried you all over Ferelden while you were wearing armour. I think I can make it four steps to the bed.”

 I nodded apologetically. “Still not used to it. No one, where I came from, is strong like you. It’s…impressive.”

 “Why, thank you, my lady.”

 He strode to the bed, examining it for a brief moment before adjusting his hold and pulling the covers back. He lifted his leg and levered himself onto the high mattress, not even jiggling me slightly me as he bent to lay me down on the soft satin sheets. He slid down beside me, and suddenly we were lying, side-by-side, on a bed.

 “That was…you’re really good at that.”

 He snorted. “I should be. I’ve practiced it enough.”

 My confusion must have been plain, because his own expression grew puzzled. “When do you practice putting a woman to bed, Alistair?”

 “Well, I suppose a bedroll is technically different, but the process is pretty much the same.”

 I stared at him, eyes widening in shock. _I never dreamed…_

“You? Put me in my tent all those times?”

 “Well, yeah. Who else? It wasn’t Sten.”

 “I just assumed it was Aedan.”

 “He did a few times, but it was tougher for him. He’s not as strong, he kept bumping you. You’d usually wake up. You really never knew?”

 “I…” I trailed off, seeing yet another side of Alistair I’d not expected. “You thought I was sleeping around, betraying Duncan, and you carried me into my tent without waking me?” He nodded. “Whatever for?”

 He blushed. “I liked you. I wasn’t happy with the situation, but you needed rest, and you wouldn’t go. I didn’t understand it, and I couldn’t ask without revealing my interest, but…I wanted to help you.”

 I finally laughed. It was too ridiculous. I chortled, and Alistair looked at me like I was crazy.

 “It’s too late to change it now, but oh, how I wish you’d said something.”

 He smiled hesitantly. “Likewise! You never did either.”

 I rolled to my side, facing him. “Yes, but…everyone knew. Except you, that is. Clearly I didn’t hide it very well.”

 “You told the others?”

 “No! Of course not. But Duncan figured it out before we even met you – I was trying to make a good impression on him, and over-volunteered information about you. Aedan guessed that first day. Well, I suppose technically, the second day, after I spent the night crying on Duncan’s shoulder in the woods. Leliana and Morrigan both knew by the time we reached Redcliffe. I don’t know when Sten realised, but he’s not dumb. Even Cailan, as self-absorbed as he is, realised, and Teagan knew by the time you left for Kinloch Hold.”

 He blushed. “Really?”

 “Why do you think Leliana was so frustrated with us? Maker, Alistair, everyone had been trying to get me to tell you. I was too scared.”

 “Well…they all knew how I felt, too, I’m sure. I didn’t get teased like it sounds you did, because I’m guessing they thought I’d run away. Too inexperienced.”

 “I don’t know about that. They certainly didn’t figure it out within minutes, the way they all seemed to with me.”

 “So…this is going to sound really conceited, I’m sure, but if you were so certain, so soon, how did you…”

 “Resist you? Sheer terror.”

 “I still have trouble understanding why you were so afraid. I’m not very intimidating.”

 “Are you crazy? The best looking man in all of Ferelden? The heir to the throne? Strong enough to carry someone all over Thedas without complaint? You underestimate yourself. But that’s not really what I was – am – afraid of.”

 “You still are?”

 “Think about it from my perspective. My possibilities aren’t stellar, really. Either I’m insane, and none of this is even happening, or it’s real and we have no idea how or why. I could get yanked back at any time, never to return, in which case I never get to see my brother or the man I love again. And even if it’s real, and if I manage to stick around…who am I? I’m a liability, politically, and no one of real importance. Aedan may believe that I’m his sister, but no one else will. I have no skills, can’t even go to the bathroom without the risk of picking the wrong leaf and giving myself a very unfortunate rash. If I disappear in front of the wrong person, I’ll be arrested as an apostate. And if somehow I manage to make a life for myself despite all of that – in thirty years, give or take, I’ll be alone. You and Aedan will head into the Deep Roads, and I’ll be left behind in a strange world with no family.”

 His expression was what I’d call ‘shocked and appalled’. His mouth hung open, and I could practically see the wheels turning.

 “Maker, Sierra. I never…I never thought about it like that. I’m an idiot. You must have been so scared!” He crushed me to his chest, one hand stroking my hair, the other pressed against my back. I snuggled there comfortably for a minute, just enjoying the feeling.

 “It’s okay. I’ve come to terms with it, really. I realised – staying away from you wouldn’t actually make any of those options better; I’d just be lonely while I was here in addition to all the rest. Once I realised that, I was staying away from you for your sake, or at least I thought I was. And anyways, I said this to Aedan way back when, and it was true – if you’d spent five minutes trying to convince me, I’d have crumbled. I did, in fact, if you recall.”

 “Why didn’t I try sooner?” His face looked aggrieved. “We’ve wasted so much time!”

 “That’s exactly it. Like I said – I wish you’d said something sooner. I wish I wasn’t such an idiot.” I giggled, and he flashed me an embarrassed grin. “We’re ridiculous.”

 “Yep. Now, speaking of, are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

 He gestured down at my near-nakedness, and I giggled again.

 “I was trying to tempt you.”

 “What?”

 I sighed. “It’s Leliana’s fault, really. She was teasing me about us sleeping together, and I told her I didn’t think you were ready and I wasn’t going to push you. She insisted that you were, but that you were afraid I’d turn you down. She convinced me that you would have taken me making you put your shirt on the other night as a bad sign. So she talked me into trying to…tempt you.”

 He raised his eyebrows, not saying a word. I continued. “I was trying to make myself hard to resist. And Leli tells me there’s nothing sexier for a man than a woman wearing nothing but his shirt. It was supposed to give you an unsubtle hint that I was…receptive.”

 “But I beat you to it.”

 “Yeah.”

 “I win!”  His smile was smug.

 “Yeah.”

 “Leliana’s sort of smart.”

 “Oh?”

 “You do look amazing in my shirt.”

 


	44. The Night Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the first where there is descriptive sex. If you'd prefer to read a version without descriptive sex, look for me on fanfiction.net under the same username - both versions will be posted there, the original without descriptive sex, and the unedited version as it is posted here.

Chapter Forty-Four: The Night Before

 Lying side-by-side on the bed, he smiled. “You do look amazing in my shirt.”

 “It was the only clean one you had.”

 “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

 He stayed there, looking awkward for a moment, smiling at me but clearly nervous. I reached up to stroke his cheek.

 “Hey. You’re overthinking things. Just relax, okay? It’s going to be okay.”

 He leaned into my hand, his eyes closing momentarily. “I just don’t want to do something wrong.”

 “What’s the worst that could happen?”

 “I could hurt you. Or embarrass myself.”

 “You won’t hurt me. And seriously, with all the embarrassing things I do on a daily basis, it’s really only fair if you do something at least mildly silly.”

 He grinned at me, a flash of the more confident Alistair that I’d been getting used to breaking through. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, softly at first, his hand stroking my hair. He brushed my ear, making me shiver, and then my neck, which elicited a gasp. The kiss rapidly deepened, and then his tongue sought entry, stroking alongside my own. His hand splayed across my stomach over the tunic, and he rubbed softly, just shy of tickling. His other hand wiggled underneath my head, grasping a handful of my hair and tilting my head back. We kissed for an eternity, wrapped up in each other, mostly even oblivious to our states of undress. My hand was on his chest, enjoying the feeling of his firm muscles underneath the smooth skin.

 Anxious, and feeling like perhaps Alistair was procrastinating just a little bit out of fear, I finally grabbed the hand that was stroking my hip and stomach and impatiently pulled it upward. Not fighting me, but not taking any initiative either, I had to cajole it all the way up until he cupped my small breast with his hand. My own hand stilled on his chest as I was distracted by the sensation.

 I moaned softly as his fingers curled around the mound of flesh, and his thumb stroked over my nipple; it crinkled and tried to gouge a hole in the palm of his hand, and his breath hitched, pulling him out of the passionate kiss. He moaned my name, sending a wave of heat down to my centre, and I squirmed, pressing against his hand and biting my lip to stifle my own feral sounds. He’d touched my breast before, it wasn’t a first for either of us, but there had never before been so little in between his skin and mine. He teased lightly across my nipple again, and I gasped and arched my back, pressing harder against his hand. He switched breasts and repeated his actions, drawing an approving sigh.

 My head turned to the side, pressing my forehead against his shoulder as I tried to relax and just let it happen; he took the opportunity to press a kiss to my jawline, and I shivered. Emboldened, he did it again, then sucked softly and fluttered his tongue against the skin. My voice cracked as I moaned and I turned my head further, exposing my neck and more of my jaw to his swollen lips. He obliged, shifting a little further towards my ear and repeating the process.

 Each time he did it dragged a response from me, either a shiver, moan, or gasp, and he moved closer and closer to my ear. Finally reaching it, he gave my earlobe an experimental lick before leaning in further to kiss the sensitive area just behind it. I whimpered, and could feel his grin and hear his chuckle as he did it again.

 “You like that?” He punctuated each word with a kiss or lick, and a caress. My nipples could have carved glass.

 “Um. Yeah. What was your first clue?” Sarcasm was the only defense I could come up with; there were unshed tears threatening in my eyes, and my only alternative was to start crying and beg.

 It felt like punishment for being flip when he left my ear alone, but when he attacked the corded muscle in my neck with his lips and teeth instead, I cried out, belatedly stuffing my fist in my mouth to muffle the noise. I could feel wetness dripping down to dampen the back of his tunic under me, and I writhed purposelessly under the combined assault on my breasts and neck. His stubble tickled my skin, and everywhere he touched felt like he’d set me on fire. He bit my neck sharply, just above where my armour would sit, marking me, I was sure.

  _How is he even doing this? I thought **he** was the virgin._ I gasped and shuddered as his hungry mouth reached the fold where neck met shoulder, and couldn’t take it anymore; I reached up to grab a handful of his hair, pulling hard enough to get his attention, dragging his lips away from my inflamed skin and up to meet my own in a desperate, violent kiss. His tongue plundered my mouth and I sucked on it hungrily, still marveling at his skill. If he was just a shade more assertive with his hands, anyone would have thought he was as experienced as Zevran.

 Thinking about his hands on me triggered a sudden, insane need to feel them on my bare skin; I couldn’t wait any longer. I laced my fingers through his, then dragged his hand, unresisting, down to brush against my leg below the tunic. We both gasped as he made contact; the heat of him felt like it would melt me. He pulled out of the kiss abruptly to stare, enthralled, at where his hand lay still on my thigh. I held my breath, letting it out explosively as he gently, softly stroked my skin.

 He groaned. “You’re so smooth. How do you make your skin so soft?”

 I struggled to think; my head was foggy with lust, until I figured out what he was asking. “Laser hair removal. I got rid of all the hair not on my head.”

 His raised his eyebrows. I shook my head, too aroused to have the discussion. “I’ll explain later.”

 He nodded, and went back to tracing patterns with his fingertips. I watched his face, his jaw tense, his eyes dilated and a little bit wild, and was suddenly worried he was on the edge of a panic attack. Hoping to forestall it, I released his hand, which kept caressing my leg with whisper-light touches, and reached up to cup his face with both of my hands. We locked gazes, and I held him there until the wildness faded a little from his expression. When he kissed me, my Alistair was back.

 I realised that so far, our interaction had been very one-sided. I had laid and wriggled while he played with my body; I wanted to return the favour. I pushed playfully on his chest, and surprised, he fell back, losing contact with my thigh. I rolled towards him, pulling my knees up under myself to raise me up so I could look down on my handsome templar.

 “My turn,” I whispered, and his eyes darkened.

 He nodded once, and I leaned across him to press my lips down on his, my hands on the bed on either side of his head, supporting me as I kissed him almost lazily. And then it was my turn to drive him crazy with teasing licks and kisses along his jaw, my hair dragging along his collarbone making him hiss. He reached up at one point to try to guide me, but I slapped his hands away playfully and punctuated it with a bite on the tense muscle in his neck. He groaned but subsided and let me continue to play.

 As I sucked on his neck, I began running my hands down the hard planes of his chest. I’d seen him shirtless before, even cuddled against his bare chest for a few minutes, but this was different. I was allowed to touch to my heart’s content, and I could have stayed there for days. His muscles shivered underneath the skin as my hands passed over, and I explored every ridge and valley methodically. He had a number of small scars that I could feel, and I traced them gently, reverently.

 He gasped as my hand brushed the waistband of his smallclothes, and I leaned back and grinned wickedly. I deliberately examined him from head to toe, not avoiding the obvious bulge tenting up his smallclothes, and he flushed, a combination of arousal and embarrassment, I guessed. I stroked the skin of his belly just beside his smalls, then proceeded to follow the lines of his hips with my hands, down over the fabric. It was his turn to stifle a groan with his hand. There was a damp spot forming, and I smiled, pleased with my work.

 In my previous experience, I’d never really had the chance to explore – in fact, before Alistair, I hadn’t even been fondled. My first time, we were in a hurry, hidden in a rarely-used storage room at our school; I laid back on a dusty table while he lined himself up and pressed in. I was wet, both from anticipation and nervousness. There was a brief pain, followed by a vaguely warm feeling that seemed to be growing until it was suddenly cut off when he came, quickly pulling out and helping me to my feet as we tidied ourselves up and snuck back out. I never really even saw his penis, never mind touched it.

 I had no intention of letting the opportunity pass me by this time. “Off,” I demanded, blushing furiously as I grabbed the waistband of his smalls, tugging insistently.

 “Wait. What?” Alistair grabbed my hands, stopping me. His face, I assumed, was a perfect match for the colour of mine. “But it’s not fair,” he whined.

 I stopped, still kneeling beside him, and bit my lip for a brief minute. _I’m the more experienced. I can do this._ I raised my hands out to the side, like I had earlier. I waited until he met my gaze.

 “Would you like to do the honours, then?”

 His mouth fell open a little, and his eyebrows tried to climb right up into his hairline. He scrambled up to his own knees, facing me, with the tips of our knees not quite touching.

 “You want me to…are you certain?” He searched my face, and I smiled as he suppressed his obvious arousal to worry about me.

 I nodded impatiently. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.” _I’m done with waiting for this._

He reached down hesitantly to grasp the hem of the long tunic, brushing my knee lightly, making me squirm. With one last questioning look, he lifted and I raised my arms further, turning the tunic inside-out as he pulled it over my head. My hair tumbled down around my face as it pulled through the opening, and it took me a moment to brush it out of my eyes. Vision unimpeded again, I glanced up to see Alistair staring at me, naked appreciation written all over his strong features. He still held the tunic in his hands, and his gaze roamed over my body like mine had done to his earlier.

 I giggled as I took the tunic from his unresisting fingers and tossed it off the bed to land, unheeded, on the floor. When I looked again, his gaze had focused firmly back on my face, and his smile was achingly handsome. He reached out and cupped my face, tugging me up onto my knees to meet him, wrapping one arm around my back, pulling me against his chest firmly.

 “Maker’s breath, but you’re beautiful.”

 I tried to reply, but he silenced me with a soft, perfect kiss. Without breaking contact, he lowered me down to lie on my back, and I felt him wiggle around as he shucked his smalls. When he joined me, he laid beside me carefully, raised on one elbow, pressed against my side. I could feel the hardness and heat of his erection against my thigh. I put one arm under his, wrapping behind him to stroke his strong smooth back. With a sudden blaze of unexpected confidence, he took my other hand, bringing it up above my head, patting it in place with a gesture that I could only interpret to mean ‘stay’.

 His hand stroked down my arm, skipping my ticklish armpit but ghosting his fingers across my sensitive collarbones and neck instead. He played there for an eternity as I moaned softly. I gasped into his mouth as he finally continued exploring south until he once again cupped one of my breasts, now without anything between us. My nipple, already erect from the previous activity and the slight chill of being exposed, hardened further as he rolled it gently between thumb and forefinger, pinching it deliciously at random intervals. He switched sides and did it again, with much the same response.

 I moaned softly in disappointment as his kiss-swollen lips left mine, but when he brought them down over the pulse-point in my neck and sucked, hard, I forgave him. And then I was breathless in anticipation as he slowly, achingly slowly descended further to lave kisses and licks on the tops of my breasts. He paused there, teasing me, until I couldn’t take it anymore. The hand he’d put above my head moved of its own accord, tangling into the rumpled sandy mess of hair on his head and dragging him to my aching nipple.

 His tongue tentatively flickered out to graze the over-wrought nub at the same time that he flicked the opposite one with his fingers, and I writhed. He chuckled low in his throat, and the sound was sexy as hell. Applying himself more assertively to the task, he began to lick and then suck first one nipple followed by the other, and I lost my mind entirely as I floated in a sea of need and desire and lust. His stubble abraded my skin just lightly, and provided an interesting counterpoint to the sensations sending waves of desire to my core.

 When his hand started creeping down my stomach, I realised that between panting and writhing I’d begun whispering prayers to Alistair, God, the Maker – anyone who would listen – begging for…something. I couldn’t even have guessed what specifically I was pleading for, and all I could do was hope Alistair would soon figure it out.

 When he allowed my tortured nipple to escape his mouth to be able to watch his hand, the intense look on his face made me crazy. I couldn’t have imagined Alistair ever looking at me like that; _I couldn’t have imagined anyone looking at me like that, before I arrived in Thedas_. I watched him as he watched his fingers creep towards my centre. First contact with my mons had me jumping, and he leaned in to capture my lips in a kiss, somehow soothing me. His fingers stroked my smooth skin, and when he pulled out of the all-too-brief kiss, he looked at me with an eyebrow raised.

 I felt weirdly defensive; I was aware that shaving legs and armpits wasn’t something women did, in Thedas, typically, and my own laser-induced baldness must have seemed strange, but somehow it embarrassed me to have attention drawn to it. I met his gaze only briefly, looking away and squirming uncomfortably.

 “I told you.” When he looked questioningly at me, I clarified. “ _All_ of the hair not on my head.”

 I looked away, face now pink not just with arousal, trying not to feel self-conscious. Alistair obviously knew me well; he abandoned his exploration to reach up and cup my cheek, turning me to face him.

 “Sierra. Just because I’m surprised, doesn’t mean I’m bothered.” I risked a look up, and his serious, gorgeous hazel eyes locked me in place. “You’re beautiful. And that…” he tilted his head, gesturing downwards, “…is sexy. Don’t ever doubt that.”

 I’m sure the wattage of my smile could have melted stone. He kissed me again, sighing softly into my mouth as our tongues met, but pulled away as I grabbed his hand. More confidently, now, I tugged his hand away from my face and down, back to where he’d been before my little freak-out. He watched my face as his fingers softly touched again, and I pressed his hand harder against me.

 “Please.” I nodded, and he smiled before turning his attention back to where his hand lay. Slowly, carefully, he reached further until the very tip of one finger softly stroked over my lips. I spread my legs involuntarily, inviting him to explore further, and he licked his lips nervously before taking advantage. His finger slowly traced the cleft, and I gasped and he groaned when his finger slipped in the wetness he encountered and suddenly pressed in just a little.

 I hadn’t had an orgasm in months – since before that first, horrifying encounter with darkspawn in a random farmer’s field – and it took every ounce of my willpower not to just grind against that finger, get it where I wanted it to go, and finally, gloriously get the release I’d been craving since the first time Alistair had kissed me. My experience with a partner was limited, but I knew from solo experimentation and extensive, furtive reading that I peaked easily.

 Despite my attempt to hide my desperation, I still twitched slightly, and his finger sank in to my cleft further. I could almost feel the weight of his gaze on my face, but I couldn’t see – my eyes sank closed and I tossed my head back, overcome by my first experience of foreplay. There weren’t even similarities between how it felt when he touched me, and how it felt when I touched myself. The slight trembling in his hands transmitted vibrations to my sensitive folds, and his lips on my extended neck just ramped up my level of arousal even further.

 He held his hand still, and my eyes finally opened, frustrated that he hadn’t moved. His expression looked puzzled and slightly ill.

 “Alistair?”

 “I, uh...I don’t know how to…Listen, will you show me?”

 I bit my lip, torn between embarrassment and need. I nodded, and slid my hand from his wrist down over top of his calloused fingers. Pressing his pointer and middle finger slightly, I trailed them through my folds, picking up moisture. Once his fingertips were damp, I pressed harder and allowed him to explore me, from my small opening up to my erect, yearning clitoris. I teased myself with his hand, allowing him to see my reactions as he brushed against it or slipped one finger a few centimetres into my tight channel.

 Unable to hold out any longer, I pressed and encouraged until he got the picture and slowly, cautiously sank one finger into me as far as it would go. I groaned; I’d never experimented with toys or anything else, and his fingers were much thicker than mine. I had to stretch to accommodate him, and I could feel my muscles contracting around the invader even as I welcomed it. After a few moments to adjust, I shifted my grip and pulled on his hand, then pushed it back in in small strokes. Getting the picture, he continued on his own, gradually increasing the depth of the stroke.

 As he moved faster, his hand relaxed, and his thumb naturally fell into place on my clit. _At least I assume it was an accident – if not, he’s a natural!_ The groan and my uncoordinated hip thrust must have gotten the point across, and he began circling the little bundle of nerves with each stroke. I wasn’t going to last long, it was obvious, and while I had wanted my first orgasm with a partner to be during actual intercourse, I couldn’t stop. It felt too good, and I was too desperate, and some small part of me whispered that, based on every book I’d ever read, I should expect the first time we actually had sex to be…unsatisfying, so I selfishly wanted some sort of relief first. Regardless of why, all I could do was writhe in my handsome templar’s arms as he brought me closer and closer to the edge.

 The last vestige of rational thought I had was that I’d need to be stretched a little more to accommodate him, and now was probably the best time for it. I managed to gasp “More, please more,” and he complied, stopping his strokes to insert a second thick finger inside me. The extra stretch was both incredibly arousing and ever-so-slightly uncomfortable at the same time, and I rode that line higher. Returning to his previous strategy of deep, full strokes and circling my clit with his thumb, he soon had me right on the edge. As I started to crest the wave, I cried out his name and heard him groan mine. His voice, tight with intensity, low and gravelly with arousal, sent me over and I came, hard. I flooded his hand as I twitched and thrust at his fingers, ruining his rhythm as I spasmed, and suddenly felt scalding liquid on my right hip at the same time as I felt his teeth sink into my neck.

 I shuddered through several aftershocks as Alistair continued to move inside me, until I finally had the presence of mind to clamp my legs together, trapping his hand and stilling it. I was completely stunned at what had happened; I’d never dreamed that my Chantry virgin of a boyfriend could have undone me so easily. I clung to him desperately, panting, waiting for my head to stop spinning and my muscles to stop twitching. His lips pressed kisses to the bruise he’d left on my neck with his teeth as he caught his own breath.

 It took me a few moments to realise that he was trying to free the hand I had trapped with my thighs, and I released the tension. I shuddered again, violently, as his fingers slipped out of me, and he whispered apologies in my ear.

 “Are you joking? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

 “I bruised you. And I think I hurt you, not that you’ll ever admit it. And…I, uh, made a mess.” I could feel the heat of his blush.

 “Did you expect sex to be a particularly neat activity? Mess-free, as it were?”

 “I guess I never thought about it.”

 “On Earth there’s entire…uh…performances based on arguments over who would have to sleep in the wet spot. I’m fairly sure it’s meant to be messy.”

 “What sort of performances are those?” His eyebrows rose up his forehead in what looked like horrified fascination.

 “It’s hard to explain. It’s sort of like when we were talking about Zevran. Making jokes about sex makes people feel less alone and helpless, I think.”

 He shook his head. “You were raised in a culture of perverts. That’s just wonderful. What did I get myself into?”

 “Hey now, perverts they may be but it was you who just turned my entire spine to jelly.”

 “Which reminds me…”

 He hopped off the bed, grabbing a washcloth off the washstand and dampening it slightly. I watched him with half-lidded eyes, his muscular body and bronze skin reflecting the candlelight slightly. I finally got my first actual look at a real-life, naked penis, and my mouth dropped open. Standing up proudly from a thatch of blond hair, he was still hard, and I certainly was no expert, but that thing looked enormous. I pried my eyes away as he climbed back onto the mattress, and noticed his face was beet red again – clearly he’d noticed where I was looking.

 He proceeded to wash his mess off my hip, and I bit my lip. He remained somewhat mottled, and was clearly embarrassed about his orgasm. I debated briefly, but curiosity won in the end.

 “So I’m a bit…confused.”

 He glanced at my face briefly. “Oh?”

 “I sort of thought…that this only happened with, you know, some sort of direct stimulation.”

 His blush deepened. “Normally. But watching you, feeling you…Maker’s breath, Sierra, I’m not made of stone.”

 I reached down to gently brush against his erect length with the back of my hand, tentatively, and it bobbed once. “Are you sure?”

 He chuckled, and I flashed him an impish grin.

 I stroked his cheek, and he leaned in to my hand. “I’m flattered. Or you’re just sheltered. I’m not entirely clear which.”

 “Both, probably. Can we talk about something other than me humiliating myself?”

 “Honey, hey. I’m not offended. In fact there’s a warm feeling in an unmentionable place thinking about it.”

 He raised his eyebrows again, and I waggled mine back making him laugh again. He turned to kiss my palm, before turning his attention back to wiping off my hip. The gentle touch and cool damp of the washcloth raised goosebumps on my skin where he touched, and he seemed fascinated by the reaction, expanding in wider circles watching the little bumps form. After a few extra minutes, by which time the mess was long gone and it was obviously no longer about clean-up, he tossed the washcloth carelessly over his shoulder and just started stroking my skin, from my hip, over my belly, up my side to my shoulder, then down to softly cup a breast. He stifled a groan when my nipple crinkled.

 “Sierra…”

 I wondered if he had any idea what it did to me to hear him say my name in his killer British accent. I pulled him in for a kiss with one hand while with the other, I felt around until I reached his hard length. I wrapped my hand around him, and he groaned into my mouth. It felt like velvet covering steel, the contrast between the soft skin and the firmness interesting, and I explored gently for a few moments. His hand, still stroking my breast, was trembling, and I recognised signs that he was having trouble maintaining control. That suited me fine; control wasn’t what I was looking for.

 Deepening the kiss and releasing his erection, I shifted and poked and prodded until he was on top of me. Ever the gentleman, he kept his weight on his elbows – beside my head – and his knees, which were wedged between mine. I could feel his cock resting on my belly, and my nipples brushed slightly against his chest. The provocative position had me burning to be filled, to make love to the gorgeous man hovering over me. I explored his back, shoulders, and chest briefly with my hands as he continued the kiss, sweeping his tongue into my mouth to engage mine. His only reaction to my hands was some goosebumps of his own, and his tremor felt a bit more prominent. Knowing he was as anxious, as desperate as I, was a huge turn-on. _I want him, now._

I reached down between us to grasp his erection again. I tugged gently and he slid his knees down until he was more directly lined up for the next event. I swiped the tip through my now-sopping folds, and he pulled out of the kiss to hiss in pleasure at the heat and damp. I placed him against my opening and released him, awaiting the first thrust with some trepidation. When nothing happened, I glanced up to make eye contact with a very fearful-looking templar.

 He bit his lip, and he looked so much like a scared little boy, but at the same time so incredibly sexy. I had to laugh, and he frowned. I shook off the laugh – _inappropriate timing, Sierra!_ – and wriggled underneath him. When he still hesitated, I finally found my voice, though I barely recognised it, low and husky with need.

 “Please, Alistair.” I gripped his ass, pulling him to me, though I knew I had no hope of moving him if he didn’t cooperate. “Please.” My knees pulled up beside his hips, my legs wrapping around so my heels brushed his thighs.

 Watching my face with incredible intensity, I finally felt him move. He flexed, and the very tip of him entered me an inch. The delicious spreading of my wet channel had me groaning in pleasure, and he paused. I thrust my hips towards him, and he gasped as I gained another inch. I was momentarily surprised by a sharp flash of pain, which felt like… _Oh, good God, this body was a virgin._ I decided to think about it later, distracted as I was by other things. Fortunately, within a few seconds, the pain disappeared as though it had never happened.

 He moved again, slowly claiming me. I’d never felt spread so far – I was now more than sure that my only previous experience had been much less well endowed – but instead of the pain I expected, there was only a mild stretching sensation, which wasn’t unpleasant.

 Encouraged by my expression, I felt his muscles tense as he pulled out a tiny amount and then pressed back in more firmly, claiming two more inches. I felt incredibly full, and I knew I was going to be much more so before we were done. Anticipation made me clench, teasing the length inside me. He groaned and thrust again, and then again as I urged him on with my legs.

 My eyes were closed as I experienced the new sensations coursing through me, but they popped open as I felt Alistair take a handful of my hair and tug lightly.

 “Keep your eyes on me, Love. I need to see you.”

 I nodded, though keeping them open seemed a major chore. Somehow, though, everything was much more intense as I watched his face while he slowly, gently stretched me. Every time he gained new ground my eyelids would flutter, and I would struggle to open them again. I kept trying, his hazel eyes drawing mine in every time, and he gasped softly every time our gazes met.

 He finally bottomed out, and I grunted as he bumped against my cervix. He instinctively pulled back a fraction of an inch, relieving the discomfort, while his gaze searched my face.

 “Okay?”

 “Maker, yes, please.” I shuddered, unable to hold still. _I never dreamed this could feel this good, and we’ve barely started._ Only a tiny portion of my brain noted my Fereldan curse; the rest was too busy urging me to move, to beg, to do whatever it took to get him to take me hard and fast.

 He growled, possessively, as he claimed my mouth in a heated kiss, and I finally let my eyes drift shut. He nibbled and sucked my lip, then his tongue swept through to stroke mine. His hands were in my hair, kneading and tugging, and all I could do was writhe and moan under him. After an eternity, he pulled back, locking gazes with mine again, and finally started to move.

 When he withdrew, I whined in disappointment, only to cry out as he plunged back in to my stretched opening. Helpless, I could only grip his hips and cling with my legs as each thrust took me higher and higher. The angle must have been perfect, somehow, because he rubbed against my clit with each thrust, and my hips met his with abandon. His slow pace kept me from peaking, and the pleasure just built and built until I was writhing and shuddering under him, not quite there but so close.

 He sped up, and finally howled out my name as he found his release; I was so close that his sexy voice, calling my name out, and his hard, irregular thrusting as he spent were enough to send me over as well. I bit his shoulder to stop myself from screaming or doing something else embarrassing, not hard enough to break the skin but definitely hard enough to bruise. He gasped and thrust into me again, hard, triggering a cascade of aftershocks ricocheting between us. When it finally settled, he collapsed down onto me, swooping down to kiss me with bruising force. My legs were still wrapped around his hips; I didn’t have the energy to move them. Still buried inside me, I could feel him softening as I clung to him, tears I couldn’t explain leaking from the corners of my eyes. His strong fingers slowly kneaded my scalp, and he lifted his head to make eye contact again.

 When he spotted my tears, his response was immediate; he rolled off me, extricating himself from my leaden limbs and cradling me in his arms.

 “Oh, Maker, I knew I was going to hurt you. Should I go get Wynne?”

 I giggled, sniffling and wiping my tears. “You didn’t hurt me. Honestly. And besides, what would we even say to Wynne? ‘I fell down the stairs and hurt my-‘”

 He cut me off with a snort of amusement. “She’d never see through that excuse, certainly. But…are you sure I didn’t hurt you?” I nodded and cuddled in closer to his side. “Then why, by Andraste’s knickers, are you crying?”

 “I vote we leave Andraste’s knickers entirely out of our sex lives, okay?”

 He snorted again. “Point taken.”

 “I’m crying because…I don’t know. I’m just happy.”

 “Maker! Women are strange. I’ll never understand you, will I?”

 “Nope.” I grinned. “Which is exactly how it was meant to be.”

 


	45. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the explicit, NSFW version of this story. If you would prefer not to read descriptive sex, please look for this story on fanfiction.net, same username.

Chapter Forty-Five: Confessions

 “You know, according to all the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now.”

 “Not for that performance.”

 “Meaning that it was so great that the Maker himself has decided to spare me from the usual punishment? Right?” He grinned, but the insecurity was as obvious in real life as it had been in game.

 I slid up, draping myself across his chest and leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his swollen lips. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant.”

 “Does this mean I get to brag, tomorrow?”

 “Well, I suppose as long as you don’t mind my brother beating you senseless afterwards, sure. Go ahead.”

 “You are a bad, bad woman.”

 “I’m not the one wanting to brag about my conquest!”

 “True. But I think you’re actually hoping Aedan will beat me.”

 “Humility is good for the soul.”

 “Since when are you worried about a soul?” We both grinned. “I myself am far more worried about other less ethereal concerns.”

 “Such as?”

 “Whether you’d permit us to do this again, if I promise not to discuss our love life with your brother?”

 “Again?”

 He nodded, somewhat red-faced.

 “Now?” I looked down and gasped, my attention immediately drawn to the enormous, slightly purple erection pointed at me. “But…I thought men were supposed to need some recovery time?”

 “Evidently not.”

 I muttered something about Grey Warden stamina, and he had the grace to look slightly abashed. I giggled and leaned down to kiss him again. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me to him tightly, and I let him shift me to lay directly on top of him. The bulge against my thigh gave me an idea, and I broke the kiss to sit up slightly, straddling his waist. When I leaned forward, my breast dangled just above him, and he pulled me closer to draw the small pebble that was my nipple into his mouth. I gasped, then pulled it back out with a small pop, presenting him with the opposite one for the same treatment. His gaze never left mine, and the vision of Alistair, suckling on my breast while gazing into my eyes was one I knew I’d not soon forget.

 Suddenly impatient, I pulled away to lean back. Using my hands on his shoulders for leverage, I shifted until I felt his erection trapped between my sex and his belly, and then sat forward slowly until he slid into place at my opening. Pressing back again caused us both to groan, loudly; I was slightly sore, but the stretch was delicious and I kept up the steady pressure until I felt my ass meet his thighs. I gyrated my hips, enjoying the control I had in that position, and discovered that when I leaned forward, my clit got stimulated by his pubic bone, but when I leaned back, he pressed against a spot that felt really good. _Apparently G-spots do exist. Huh._

He reached up to cup my breasts while I alternated between leaning back and forward slightly, and I arched my back, pressing harder into his warm, calloused hands. Shifting my grip from his shoulders to his thighs, behind me, I leaned back and started lifting up and slowly sliding back down. I’d never really felt g-spot stimulation in my very limited experience, and while I missed the pressure on my clit, the sensation was interesting and new enough for me to throw my head back and just enjoy the ride. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to orgasm like that, until suddenly both conflicting needs were filled. My eyes shot open, and I realised that Alistair had released my breasts, and one hand was now bracing itself on my hip, while the other reached between us and teased my clit. His face wore a mask of concentration, I assumed as he tried to keep his own release at bay while he brought me to mine.

 It took little time for me to reach my peak, between watching the incredibly sexy man under me try to please me, and the sensations coursing through me from my g-spot and my clit. I felt myself spasm, clenching him deep inside, and he hissed as he tried to maintain his composure. I reached down to still his hands, and instead he reached up to cup my face.

 “Maker’s breath, watching you like that…I want to see your face, just like that, every day, forever.”

 I smiled softly, wondering if he realised he’d just offered me a lifetime commitment. I wasn’t planning on holding him to it, but it felt nice none-the-less. I leaned into his hand, planting a kiss on his palm, and then leaned forward to kiss his lips. I felt him twitch inside me when I nibbled his lower lip, and suddenly I was upright again as he sat up on the bed. Still buried inside my channel, he wrapped his arms around me and pressed his face into my neck, and I responded in kind. He smelled of sweat, which was somehow sexy instead of gross, and I imagined I smelled, if anything, worse, so I couldn’t really complain.

 Still sitting so my breasts were pressed against his well-muscled chest, I felt Alistair’s hands wander down to my hips; he used his grip to encourage me to move, and once again I rode him. I loved the closeness, with him sitting up – it was nice to be at eye-level and be able to kiss without contortion. I wasn’t going to come again – I was fairly certain that whatever controlled that function had closed for the night – and I planned to enjoy making it all about him for once. Along those lines, I concentrated, and for the first time in my life, purposefully tried to flex the muscles I could feel contracting during an orgasm. It took me a couple of tries to get it right, and I could tell I had when he gasped and picked up even more speed. He was now in control, his powerful arms lifting me and slamming me back down onto him, and I watched his face as I contracted my muscles in time. I cupped his cheeks in my hands, and like he had done to me earlier, demanded he look at me.

 His face contorted in pleasure, and he looked absolutely gorgeous, hedonistic and, well, like I imagined Adonis would as he fought to maintain eye contact while his hips jerked and he spent inside me. A curl of heat spread from my centre as I watched him, and I’d never felt more satiated in my life. He flopped back, panting and trying to recover, and I went with him, laying on his chest. He finally softened, and we both shuddered as he slipped out of me; I slid to one side of him, still cradled in his arm, and molded my body to his side. I reached down and grabbed a light blanket to cover us, not cold, but imagining I would be once the sweat I could feel coating me began to dry.

 “So I have a question.”

 “I’m not going to say ‘hit me’, if that’s what you’re hoping.”

 I giggled. “I wouldn’t. I only abuse my brother. Making up for all the years of tormenting him that I missed while we were growing up.”

 He snorted, and I could hear the grin. “I’m so glad the two of you found each other.”

 “Me too. But back to my question.” I lifted my head and gave him my best scowl. “I thought you were a virgin, before yesterday.”

 He raised an eyebrow, expression puzzled. “I was.”

 “I don’t believe you.”

 “You knew I was before we even met, how can you not believe me?”

 “Well…okay so I’ve mentioned before that where I’m from, information about sex is easily available, for anyone who wants it.”

 “Yes…?”

 “And I imagine almost everyone spends at least a little bit of time ‘educating’ themselves. I did. And in everything I ever read, everyone I ever asked about sex, they all agreed about one thing – the first time with an inexperienced partner is supposed to be terrible for the woman. No control, overly excited, that sort of thing. My limited experience certainly agrees with that. But this was incredible. I know, Grey Warden stamina is part of it, at least in terms of recovery time, but…”

 He blushed. “Confession time.” I raised one eyebrow. “I, uh, ‘educated’ myself a bit too.”

 “You did? How?”

 He grimaced. “Zevran.”

 “You asked Zevran for sex advice?” My voice went all shrill, and I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop it from saying anything else.

 “Not exactly. At first, I just…paid attention, when he would talk. And all he talks about is sex, so that was fairly enlightening. Especially late at night, like on watch…I’d wake up from a Darkspawn nightmare and end up listening to him talk to Aedan or whoever. He and Leliana even spent a couple of nights comparing notes. He mentioned all sorts of ‘secrets’ he learned from living in a whore house, like for example, how the men would…” He made a hand gesture that was understandable in any culture, and I giggled at his scarlet face. “Before. So that they could be better.”

 “You did that?” I was too tired to be turned on, but the thought of him stroking himself was almost enough for me to overcome that obstacle.

 He nodded, refusing to meet my eyes. “In the bath. Earlier.”

  _Now I have a mental image. Damn you Alistair!_

“So at first,” he continued, “I just eavesdropped, but after a while, I would listen openly, and blush and stammer and act all confused, and you know how he loves to embarrass me, so I could sort of…lead the conversation where I wanted it to go.”

 My mouth open, I stared at him in shock. “You are…you are devious! I can’t believe you faked that innocent act.”

 He chuckled nervously. “Not entirely, I mean, I was completely embarrassed, but it was…educational.”

 I shook my head, impressed yet again at the maturity and confidence it took for him to go to Zevran for advice, even if in a round-about fashion. Not to mention the acting skills! Game Alistair would have run away with his hands over his ears, singing loudly to himself.

 I fell asleep with my head on his chest, a smile plastered to my face. For the first time in months, I was going to sleep sated instead of frustrated, and the soft susurration of his heartbeat was better than a lullaby.

 When I woke, I was a bit disoriented; I was no longer resting on his chest, but instead curled up with Alistair spooned behind me. My head was on his outstretched arm, his other lay loosely on my hip. The room was dark; the candles had gone out. I had no idea what time it was, and I struggled to figure out what woke me. And then Alistair twitched, and I realised he was dreaming. I worried that it might be a darkspawn nightmare, until I heard him softly moan my name. When he twitched again, his arousal, which had worked its way between my thighs to press against my sex from behind, was enough of a clue as to what he was dreaming about. I blushed, embarrassed and aroused in the same breath.

 I debated – what to do? Should I let him enjoy his dream, or wake him and make it come true, whatever it was? I decided that neither was entirely appropriate, but instead chose option C. There was plenty of moisture to be found, between our earlier exertions and my re-awakened desire, so I tilted my hips and awkwardly reached down to gently grasp his manhood and angle it properly. I slowly, carefully wriggled backwards and impaled myself on his length.

 With some rest, most of the soreness had gone, but I found myself feeling stiff, like the morning after a new workout at the gym. Fortunately the position didn’t require too many contortions, so I was free just to enjoy the stretch. He’d come half-awake during the process, if the hand clenching my hip was any indication, but there didn’t appear yet to be coherent thought behind it based on the confused, dream-like muttering in my ear. Undeterred, I purposefully clenched, drawing a gasp and a surprised thrust from behind. _Oh, that’s better than I even thought it would be._ I did it again, combining it this time with a pelvic tilt that slid him just slightly deeper inside me, and he groaned.

 Now more awake, his arm, which pillowed my head so comfortably, bent down at a surprising angle and his fingers unerringly found my breast. The other, still gripping my hip, pulled me back as he thrust forward. The position did not allow him much freedom to move, but even the short strokes felt heavenly and I trembled as he began teasing my nipple. We continued like that, and I floated in a haze of pleasure, knowing it wasn’t enough to bring me over, but content to draw things out for a while.

 After a few minutes, his panting, gasping breaths in my ear became low growls, and I could feel he wanted more. I assumed he would pull out and we would reposition, but to my surprise he just rolled me forward a little, spreading my knees slightly so he could put his own knee down between mine, tilting my hips up, and used his improved leverage in combination with gravity to get the increased speed and depth he wanted. I could do nothing but moan wantonly, especially when his hand left my hip and quested forward to begin tormenting my aroused clit.

 Lying there, in the pitch black, with Alistair in me and on me, all around me, I was struck by the strangest feeling. I was sort of embarrassed, but it was a weird combination of rightness, and possession, and connectedness I’d never even imagined before. Despite not being able to see, I knew exactly what he was going to do, and he knew exactly what to do to increase my pleasure without having to ask. I almost couldn’t tell where I stopped and he began, and it was intoxicating. But I didn’t say any of that; all I could do was moan and writhe and do my best to thrust back towards him and allow the waves of my orgasm to wash over me.

 His relentless movement inside me and the pressure on my clit kept my orgasm going until I felt him press into me, hard, and stay there as he groaned out my name; the heat I could feel told me he’d found his release, and his hand finally fell away from my abused clit as I shuddered.

 I muttered under my breath as we both sprawled, sated and exhausted. “Hallelujah.”

 “What?”

 “Tell you tomorrow.”

 “Deal.”

 I didn’t even really get the chance to come down; exhausted, I fell asleep mid-shudder, with him still inside me, his weight still on my back.

 When I next opened my eyes, I could feel by the tension in the body spooned behind me that Alistair was awake. The early morning light was filtering through the shutters, I was guessing it was barely after dawn, and between the blankets and the enormous templar body-warmer, I was gloriously warm for possibly the first time since being in Ferelden. I cleared my throat, voice slightly hoarse and still thick from sleep.

 “Good morning.”

 He hesitated before speaking, and when he did his voice was subdued. “Good morning.”

 I started to worry that he somehow had morning-after regrets, though I wouldn’t have expected that. “Love? What’s wrong?”

 He sighed and shifted slightly away from me, letting cool air sneak in between us; I was suddenly chilled much more than the dropping temperature would account for.

 “What’s this?” I felt one finger tap me on the back, and I wrinkled my brow in confusion. _Do I have something stuck in my hair?_ And then it occurred to me what he was tapping on.

 “It’s a tattoo.” I blushed, happy that he wouldn’t be able to see it from behind.

 “I gathered that. Why, exactly, do you have a tattoo of a dragon and a griffon, and a Chantry symbol of all things? Whose initials are these?”

 I sighed. I mostly felt bad for Alistair, that his confidence, while better than it had been in game, wasn’t good enough for him to guess.

 “I got it after Haven. It…was an emotional time, for me, and I felt like I needed something to mark the occasion somehow. I asked Zevran to do it, and he did.”

 “That’s what you were doing in his tent for hours? Really? I wondered, but after I made such an ass of myself, I didn’t want to ask in case you took it the wrong way.”

 I giggled. “Yeah, that might not have gone over well.”

 He snorted. “I still have a bruise on my ear to remind me not to piss you off.” I giggled again. “That still doesn’t explain the tattoo, you know.”

 “I…it’s hard to explain. The dragon, obviously, represents the Archdemon, but also just the…differences, I guess, between Thedas and where I grew up. And the griffon represents what I found here – yes, Grey Wardens, but also family, and strength. And the Chantry symbol is because…I might not be an Andrastian, but someone, maybe your Maker or maybe someone else, brought me here and let me find you and Aedan, so I guess it’s my way of showing gratitude.”

 He was quiet for a bit, and I could practically hear the wheels turning as he thought about it. “And the initials?” His voice was barely a whisper, but I couldn’t decide if it was hopeful or worried.

 “I didn’t ask for them. I was as surprised as you when I saw them there. Zevran claims they are random swirls and that it was only my wishful thinking that made them look like letters. He thought he was so clever.” I sniffed, remembering his smug smile.

 “And…?”

 “For the love of all that’s holy, Alistair! The ‘S’ is obviously me. The ‘A’ is you, you idiot! I told you, everyone knew how I felt about you. When I asked about them, Zev offered to change them, to colour over them, but…even though I thought, at the time, that I’d never get to be with you, it was…it was the only way I could keep you with me, somehow. And then I thought you hated me, and it seemed like it was all I’d ever have of you, since I couldn’t even have your friendship.”

 My eyes were moist, and I blinked rapidly, trying to clear them. _I am not going to cry, not over this._ I was shocked when his arms encircled me from behind, shifting me so I faced him and then crushing me to his chest. He stroked my hair, tilting my chin to look into my eyes. His own eyes were bright with unshed tears as well, and he had to clear his throat a couple of times before he could speak.

 “I’m sorry. I really am. I never hated you, Sierra. Was jealous and insecure, sure…I guess I still am, really. It isn’t you. It was never you. Sometimes I just can’t believe that you are here with me. It seems too unreal. You could have anyone you wanted; you could be Queen, if that’s what you wanted – I know Cailan was considering it. Why would you want to be with me? I’m not complaining, of course, and I’m not trying to excuse my behaviour, I’m just…explaining, I guess. If I were you, I wouldn’t be with me. I could never assume that ‘A’ was for me.”

 “I know, Alistair. I’m not really frustrated with you. Actually what I’d like to do is kick Eamon’s and Isolde’s asses for making you so insecure in the first place.”

 “Eamon took me in, and he didn’t have to. I-“

 I cut him off. “Eamon took you in exactly because he had to, Alistair. Maric made him. Maric promised your mother to raise you away from court, but he wanted you somewhere he thought you’d be safe. He loved your mother; he begged her to stay, but she could not. He loved you. My guess is he wanted you trained as a knight, to someday quietly settle you as the Bann of something or other. Why he decided that his brother-in-law, the brother of his late wife, who had no relation to you and who would see you as a potential stain on his sister’s memory, should be the one to raise you I will never understand. Or maybe I do – Eamon has a way of making others think he’s an honourable guy. Maybe Maric fell for it. He should have sent you to Rainesfere or even Highever, though I expect he worried that if someone discovered who you were they would try to use you against Cailan when the time came…

 “Regardless, I can guarantee that he did not want you sleeping in the hayloft, or mucking out the kennels, or being treated as less than a servant. Or going to the Chantry, for that matter. I bet that Eamon took you into the castle and had you cleaned up and looking presentable every time Maric visited, am I right?” He looked thoughtful, but after a short hesitation, slowly nodded. “He couldn’t allow Maric to find out how you lived. I can only assume that Eamon sent you off to the Chantry without notifying Maric, and by the time he found out it was too late. He couldn’t rescue you without acknowledging you, and he’d promised not to. I more than suspect that Maric asked Duncan to get you out of the Chantry before you took your vows. Of course, he didn’t know that the Joining could have killed you.”

 His face was drawn, expression sad as he thought about what I’d said. I wanted to take his pain away, but knew only time could do that. I leaned in and kissed him softly.

 “I know you feel grateful to Eamon, and I commend you on your charitable attitude. Personally, I’d like to kick him in the unmentionables with steel-toed boots on. That’s one of the ways I know you’re a better person than I am.” I grinned, and he smiled weakly. “But the fact remains, you are a good person, an incredibly strong person, as well as being gorgeous and sweet and thoughtful and extremely good in bed. How about you just stop thinking of yourself as being undeserving, or I will have to spank you. And while Zevran might think that sounds like fun, I can assure you, you won’t enjoy it.”

 He laughed, and something in his face changed. I knew he hadn’t taken it in, hadn’t accepted everything just yet, but at that moment I knew he would, eventually. And I couldn’t have been more proud.

 “Speaking of…”

 “You’re really going to start a sentence with ‘speaking of spanking’?”

 “Just shut up, woman.”

 He kissed me then, and the passion was undeniable. As sore as I was, when he took my nipple into his mouth and started stroking my clit, I couldn’t have said no if my life depended on it. After I came on his fingers, he rolled between my thighs and didn’t stop until I was screaming his name.

 As I shuddered to a halt, he asked me about my strange outburst in the night.

 “What’s that hall thing?”

 “Hall…? Right. Hallelujah. It’s…Hmm. Hallelujah is something people on Earth say when they are praising God for something. ‘Hallelujah, we are saved!’ But it’s also a song, and the words of one of the verses just seemed really appropriate.”

 “Well now you have to sing it for me.”

 “Maybe later. Or, you know, not. But the verse I was thinking of goes like this: Remember when I moved in you, the holy dark was moving too, and every breath we drew was hallelujah?”

 He kissed me softly, and I smiled into his mouth. “Maybe I’ll teach it to Leli later.”

 


	46. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the original unedited version of this chapter, which contains NSFW scenes of a graphic sexual nature. If you do not wish to read this version, see the story on fanfiction.net under the same username.

Chapter Forty-Six: The Morning After

 I fell asleep again, I assume, because when I woke up I was being very gently washed. Alistair knelt on the bed beside me, an intense look of concentration on his face. Seeing that I was awake, he encouraged me to roll onto my back and spread my thighs, and he wiped away our combined secretions from first my thighs, then even more gently from my groin. I watched his face, admiring how beautiful he was, wishing I could show him what he looked like from my perspective.

 His eyes went wide, and his absorbed look was suddenly replaced with a frightened expression.

 “Alistair, what’s wrong?”

 “I…you…” He gestured helplessly at the cloth he was holding, and I looked down to see traces of blood staining the fabric. “You told me I didn’t hurt you.” Self-recrimination was obvious in his voice.

 “It’s okay. I’m not injured, Alistair. It’s just that…well, you know that I have a different body, back where I came from, right?”

 He nodded, still frowning.

 “Well, it was that body that had sex before. Not this one.   It’s normal for a woman to bleed a small amount after the first time.”

 His frown lifted, and he finally met my eyes, seeming to judge the truth of my words.

 “I’m not in pain, love. A bit stiff, I have to admit, but nothing like what I would feel if you had hurt me.”

 He relaxed, finally. “Maybe we should have Wynne check you out, just in case?”

 “Again, what would I say? I fell down the stairs, could you see why I’m bleeding from the-“

 “Okay, okay!”

 “Are you that embarrassed by the word?”

 His expression became evasive. “What word?”

 “Vagina.”

 Evasive gave way to beet red. “Ah! Don’t say that.”

 “Really? You’re perfectly willing to play with it, but you can’t say it?” I giggled. “Vagina. Vagina vagina vagina.”

 He put his hands over his ears, and started humming to himself. “La la la, not listening!”

 I cracked up, and he finally joined in with a small chuckle when he saw I was laughing too hard to keep saying the word. “Remind me to talk dirty next time we’re-“

 He leapt out of bed, talking over me in a desperate attempt to block out what I was saying and change the subject. “So I suppose we should get dressed, I bet Aedan is waiting for us downstairs.”

 I giggled, but let the subject change stand. Getting up, I realised I was quite a bit more stiff than I’d let on, but determined not to let it show. Stretching triggered an appreciative groan from Alistair, and I ignored it, picking through my clothes and chose a shirt and pair of pants. I got distracted watching Alistair shimmy into his own pants, blushing and hurrying to slip into mine when he caught me staring. When I grabbed my bra, I had to stop and show Alistair how the clasps and the elastic worked; he was fascinated by the garment. Finally putting it on, I felt the need to run my hands over his strong chest one more time before he got his shirt in place, and he blushed.

 Going down stairs proved to be quite uncomfortable on my hips and groin muscles, and I bit my cheek to keep from grunting in pain. Happily the stairs were narrow, so Alistair had to descend in front of me and couldn’t see my face. We found most of our companions at a round table in the corner already stuffing their faces; the place was otherwise nearly deserted. Leliana looked at us suspiciously, breaking out into a full smile when she saw me grinning; Aedan refused to make eye contact, and Wynne greeted us absent-mindedly, her nose still in her book. Zevran was across the room talking to someone, nodding as the other man gestured. He was tall, at least by comparison to the elf, but his features were obscured by a hood. Zevran was the only one in armour; everyone else wore simple clothing. I shrugged and sat, Alistair on one side, a gap and then Aedan on the other.

 Aedan waved at Sanga and she nodded, I assumed understanding she was to bring us out plates as well. There were something that looked like scones, jam, sausages, and even pancakes; I was suddenly starving. _Too much exercise last night…_ I heaped my plate full when it was presented to me, triggering a peal of laughter from Leliana, and an irritated grunt from Aedan. I couldn’t figure out what his problem was, until I noticed his ears were red and a vein pulsing in his forehead. _He must have guessed what happened with Alistair and I last night_ …I wondered if he’d come to knock on the door at an inconvenient time or something. I decided to ignore it and hope he got over it.

 When Zevran returned, he sat beside me with a flourish, taking my hand and kissing it ostentatiously, like he hadn’t done since shortly after we first met, calling me his ‘beautiful dove’. Alistair didn’t even stiffen – _I guess his confidence is in better shape than I thought!_ \- but I was confused, until I felt something being firmly pressed into my hand. When Zev released me, I had a small bottle in my grasp. I held it down, between him and me, and glanced at it surreptitiously, only to realise it was a healing potion like he’d given me after my tattoo, like the ones Wayne used to give me after training to treat pulled muscles, only empty. I raised my eyebrows at him, but he just smiled innocently and nodded toward my mug. I hadn’t even seen him dose my drink!

  _Does everyone know we had sex?_ I sighed, but took a big sip of whatever it was. It tasted horrible, but I wasn’t sure if it was the watered ale or the potion causing the problem. I covered my gag and slammed the rest of the contents back. Within a couple of minutes, my stiffness eased off, and some stinging I hadn’t even noticed disappeared. I grinned at Zev, and he grinned back.

 Once everyone had eaten, we started discussing plans for the day. Leliana claimed me for some shopping; Aedan wanted Zev, Alistair, Wynne, Prince, and himself to go find themselves some work, though he was a bit vague on what they would do. I mentioned Sergeant Kylon, and he nodded; they also thought they’d try the Chanter’s board. While they were out, they were going to scope out the street where Marjolaine was staying, and Leli and I had strict orders to stay well away. We decided that Leliana could go as my bodyguard, and therefore wear her helmet, much to the bard’s dismay, but we figured it was safe enough for my face to be seen – Loghain knew nothing about me.

 Alistair, Aedan, Leliana, and Wynne headed up to their respective rooms to gear up, while Zevran and I stayed in the common room and chatted for a while since he was already in armour, and I was in no rush; I’d need another bath before I could possibly pass as a Ferelden noblewoman. As soon as everyone cleared the room, I turned to Zev, determined to get some answers.

 “Okay, so what was that all about last night with Alistair? What did you give him?”

 Zevran’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Our beloved Warden merely asked me if I knew of anything to improve his performance in the bedroom, bella donna. He was nervous that he might not be able to please you. And it worked, did it not? You certainly look…pleased, yes?”

 I stared at him for a moment, still startled beyond compare that Alistair would have gone to the assassin for sex advice. And then the rest of what he said filtered in, and I face-palmed.

 I hissed under my breath, not wanting anyone to hear my response. “You gave him Viagra? Are you kidding me? Six times, Zevran. I had six orgasms in about four hours! I was pretty sure I’d have a stroke, at one point in there. You could have at least given him a half-dose, for the love of God.”

 “Ah, but cara mia, you misunderstand me. He asked for something to improve performance. I did not give him such a thing. I am well-familiar with Grey Warden stamina, my dove. I knew he needed nothing to boost performance except for possibly some confidence. So I gave him some harmless elfroot extract, which at best would have taken care of any minor discomforts he had, and I took the liberty of adding in a…well, it wouldn’t do to have a child during a blight, no? I told him it would ensure he was able to perform to the best of his ability, and let him assume the rest. It was not precisely a lie, was it? And I’d say it turned out rather well.”

 My mouth fell open and I stammered uselessly for a moment before collecting myself again. “You gave him a placebo, and birth control?” I contemplated Zevran’s rather thoughtful gesture. A pregnancy definitely wasn’t in any of our best interests. But he didn’t know that I had an IUD, back on Earth, so we didn’t need the contraceptive. _Although, that’s a different body…maybe we do? But I haven’t had my period, since I came here…._ My head threatened to explode, and I concentrated on Zevran’s words.

 “I do not know this word, placebo. But if you mean I told him it was medicinal when it wasn’t, exactly, then yes. I did.”

 “And he still…six times?”

 “Grey Wardens are marvelous, are they not?”

 “Well, at least I know how you knew we had sex last night.”

 “Ah, well, I hate to disagree with a beautiful woman such as yourself, but bella donna…I am certain that everyone within three blocks of this establishment knows you were, shall we say, busy, last night. You are not precisely…quiet.”

 My face felt hot, and I buried it in my hands, rocking in agitation. “I…we…were that loud?”

 I risked a glance at his face, and he gave me a wicked smile. I groaned. “No wonder Aedan was so weird at breakfast!”

 “Hmm? Oh, yes, well, that was one reason, I suppose.”

 “One reason?”

 “I rather think he was concerned about running into a certain lusty pirate queen.”

 “Where is Isabela this morning, anyway?”

 “I imagine she crept into her own room to try to catch a little bit of sleep.”

 Something in his voice made me suspicious, and I turned to look at Zevran, puzzled. “She was awake all night?” He nodded, his expression, if possible, even more smug than normal. My eyes widened in horror. “You didn’t. Zevran! Please tell me you did not debauch my brother with Isabela.”

 His grin widened slightly, and then his innocent look slipped into place. “I did not. Your brother was three sheets to the wind, and he and Isabela managed to…’debauch’…all on their own, really. I mostly watched – the first time, anyway.” The glint in his eye belied his Chantry-goer expression.

 I stammered again. “I was joking when I suggested it!”

 His innocent façade slipped and he actually giggled. “Well, perhaps you should be careful what you joke about, yes?”

 And then I knew why Isabela hadn’t stayed in the common room for the brawl. She had somewhere else to be. I groaned again, hiding my blushing face in my hands yet again _. I’ll never be able to look Aedan in the eye again. Wait…_

“Zevran?”

 “Yes, cara mia?”

 “Wasn’t that his first time with a woman?” After he had admitted to his sexual preference, Aedan and I had a few frank discussions about his experience, or lack thereof prior to Zevran, which basically consisted of some hidden, furtive groping sessions with Ser Gilmore.

 “I believe so, yes.”

 I slapped my forehead again. “You let him…his first…Isabela?” I couldn’t even talk, between mortification and righteous indignation.

 “I don’t believe he had any complaints. Of course, he wouldn’t admit to such with her right there, I suppose…”

 “Zevran, I’m going to kill you. One day, when you least expect it.”

 “What did he do now?” Leliana plopped onto the bench beside me, expression amused.

 “Never mind. I need to have a bath.”

 “Wait. Before you go…well, here.” He handed me a small bottle, filled with a grey powder.

 “What’s this?”

 “The…medicine, I told you about. For Alistair. A small pinch per day, yes?” Zevran grinned cheekily.

 I hopped up, slapped Zev lightly on the back of the head, earning myself a lascivious chuckle, and then headed up to the bathing facilities. I ran into Aedan and Alistair, getting a hug from the first, and a rather enthusiastic kiss from the second. I reminded them both to stay safe before they left to do their recon and make some money. Leliana must have warned someone about the bath, because the boy was leaving the bathing chamber as I arrived, and the sunken tub was steaming.

 I washed my hair, then soaped the rest of me, enjoying the feeling of ridding myself of the sweat I’d earned overnight. One of the little bottles near the tub smelled sort of like conditioner, so I put some in my hair, and to my delight, was able to easily comb through my usually tangled hair. I decided to ask Sanga if I could buy some later. I slipped into my fake-velvet dress, tied my hair up in a braided bun, and headed back down into the common room. Leliana waited there alone, and when I arrived, she slipped on her helmet and escorted me back to the market.

 We shopped for the morning, buying me two pairs of sensible shoes, and each of us one pair of completely frivolous fancy shoes. She insisted on ordering me a new dress, a proper Fereldan noblewoman’s dress, though I gathered the fashions were not quite to the bard’s standards. I thought it was beautiful; it was a deep burgundy with gold accents, was going to be tight through the bodice, and then flow to the floor and swish when I walked. I had no idea when she thought I would wear it, but I couldn’t dissuade her.

 No one in the market bothered us, though we saw plenty of mercenaries who watched us appreciatively; I guessed Leliana being clearly armed to the hilt discouraged any harassment. We ate meat pies bought from a street vendor for lunch, and despite having no idea what sort of meat they contained, I managed to get mine down without problems. Leliana clearly wanted to quiz me about the previous evening, but it would have looked strange for a bodyguard to be giggling with her employer, so she decided to wait.

 I looked for a red-bearded dwarf in the market, but didn’t find him; I hoped nothing had happened to Gorim, with all the changes that had happened since my arrival. I resolved to take Aedan and find him the next day.

 Tired from the lack of sleep the night before and from the walking, we headed back to the Pearl in the early afternoon. Isabela was in the common room, eyes puffy and red, sipping at some broth, and I had to laugh. _Apparently Aedan wasn’t the only one who overindulged last night!_ The pirate invited Leli and I to sit with her; by mutual unspoken consent, we sat together opposite the Rivaini.

 We chatted for a while, before it occurred to me that there were some things I wanted to tell Isabela. I thought about it while we talked. I didn’t want to warn her off the disastrous slave transporting job she would take after the ending of the Blight – who knew what would happen to those poor people if someone else took the contract, and had less conscience – but I did want to stop her stealing the Tome of Koslun, if at all possible. Then it occurred to me that if I stopped her, Castillon might hire someone else to steal it instead, and it could be an even bigger political disaster with the Qunari. In the end, I gave her a vague warning about finding someone named Hawke, and trusting them with whatever trouble she was in. Perhaps if Isabela opened up to Hawke sooner, she could prevent some of the worst of the destruction. Isabela was suspicious and a bit creeped out, I think. I couldn’t help it; I wasn’t about to explain to her what was going on.

 I shook my head, trying to clear it. I couldn’t save everyone, even with all my knowledge, and I knew that; it didn’t make it any easier to live with.

 Once Isabela had excused herself to head to the docks and check on her ship, I peppered Leliana with questions about mailing letters to people, and she assured me that she could ensure any letters I wrote found their intended recipients, for perhaps two sovereigns per letter. I thought about what I wanted to say to whom for a long time, but didn’t come up with anything definitive and resolved to think about it a while longer. I had plenty of coin, at least; Aedan had continued Duncan’s habit of splitting our coin between himself, Alistair, and me, as well as making sure our companions had enough to buy whatever they needed, but then always paid for things out of his own purse anyway, so my stash probably amounted to more than thirty sovereigns.

 Leliana then started quizzing me about my night with Alistair. Much to her chagrin, I refused to give her any details, but she knew without being told that we’d finally had sex. And the shit-eating grin on my face must have given something away, because she was blushing and giggling almost as much as I was.

 I went up to the room I shared with Alistair and had a nap; the sheets had been changed, and the room aired out. _I could get used to this…but I’d better not._ When Alistair came in, a few hours later, his armour covered in gore, I scrambled out of bed in a panic.

 “What happened? Are you alright?” I immediately started checking him over for injuries. “I hate not being there. I should have been. Why did I let you go without me?”

 He tried to push away my hands, eventually grabbing my wrists to still them. “I’m fine! Sierra. Look at me. I’m fine. None of this blood is mine. We’re all fine. We did some work for the Chanter’s board. And there’s a group of mercenaries trying to clean up some of the problems in the Market District, and it’s been a mini-civil war in the back alleys. We helped out some group called the Black…something. I don’t know what good it will do, but it paid well, so good enough.”

 I stopped. “The Blackstone Irregulars?”

 “That sounds right. You know them?”

 “A bit. I don’t remember exactly… Let me think. They’ll have all sorts of paying work, though at some point the leader’s son will attempt a coup, and try to hire you to assassinate his father, or something. Don’t do it. The son is a creep.”

 He laughed. “I love you, have I told you that today?” He leaned down to kiss me, and I quickly moved away. He pouted.

 “You’ve got blood on your face.”

 “Maker! Sorry. I’ll go have a bath, quickly. Then maybe we can try that kiss again?”

 The glint in his eye made it obvious he was hoping for more than a kiss, and I shivered. “I have a better idea.”

 “Oh?”

 “How about I help you wash?”

 I don’t think I’d ever imagined someone in heavy plate armour getting undressed so fast.

 We had the tub filled, both of us red-faced and giggling as the boy who hauled the water grinned cheekily and winked at Alistair when he thought I wasn’t looking. We gave him Alistair’s armour to be cleaned, and then locked the door. I slipped my simple dress over my head, and slid into the bath, which was hot and smelled sort of foresty. Alistair’s gaze never left me as I waited for him to rinse the worst of the blood off his skin and hair in a bucket before joining me.

 Alistair wet was even more fantastic than Alistair any other way, and I was drawn to him like iron to a magnet. Kneeling in the tub, facing each other, I took the cloth and began washing his face, neck, arms, and chest, while he just watched me with dark eyes. He stood, and I washed his stomach and legs, both of us blushing as that put his manhood on the level with my face. When he sat back down, I had him turn so his back was to me, and washed that as well, then massaged his scalp with shampoo. He floated on his back, his eyes closed, a blissful look on his face, and I rinsed his hair carefully before leaning over him and pressing a kiss to his soft lips.

 That was apparently the invitation he’d been looking for; he sat up, drawing me into his lap so I straddled him, and kissed me again. I could feel his hardness against my thigh, and raised myself a little to capture it inside me before sinking down to rest against his legs. His hands stroked me everywhere, gently but firmly so as not to tickle, and he soon had me whimpering with need. I started to move, lifting up and dropping back down, but he moved his hands to my hips to keep me moving slowly, teasing us both. The leisurely speed allowed us to maintain the connection with our lips, and he swallowed my moans as the heat in my core increased. I wanted to speed up, desperate for release, wanting to feel him spend inside me, but he held me relentlessly and all I could do was endure.

 When release finally did come it was somehow softer, smoother than the frenzy in the night, but at the same time strangely more intense and fulfilling. He shuddered through his own at the same time; I felt like I was closer to Alistair when it was over than I had been before and I collapsed into his arms with a long sigh.

 


	47. Panic and Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the original, unedited version of this story which includes descriptive sex. If you don't like the smut, please check out the non-explicit version at fanfiction.net.

Chapter Forty-Seven: Panic and Planning

 We finally, reluctantly climbed out of the now-cool water and got dressed, teasing each other and laughing the whole time. When we finally made it out of the bathing room, a passing servant pointed us to a small private dining room that Aedan had apparently rented after the brawl fiasco from the night before. Everyone had cleaned up, and we had a wonderful dinner just talking and laughing. Everyone avoided talking business, and it felt like a wonderful preview of what it might be like when the blight was over.

 Back in our room, Alistair swallowed the noxious pinch of powder from the vial Zevran had given me; we knew that having a child would be difficult, given my possible birth control and his being a Grey Warden, but we decided that caution was probably for the best. It still seemed weird to me that birth control was something you gave to a man, not a woman. To my surprise, Alistair expressed incredible longing to have a family of his own, some day; I supposed, given his upbringing, it wasn’t so strange. Growing up without one made the urge to have a family that much greater, as I could testify to from personal experience.

 We made slow sweet love again before passing out, limbs intertwined; somehow I thought that having been with him my desire would be less immediate, less desperate, but if anything I wanted him more than I had before. We woke in the night and reached for each other again; my last thought before sleep claimed me the second time was that I was going to have to get good at making healing potions if we kept up at the same rate much longer.

 I woke early in the morning, to find Alistair still deeply asleep, his beautiful face relaxed as he snored softly. I was starving; I slid out of bed, carefully and as quietly as I could manage, and slipped on a loose-fitting linen dress from the pile of clothes in the corner. I went down to the main room to find us something for breakfast. My hair was tousled, my dress wrinkled from hours on the cold stone floor, but I was too sleepy to care, and it was early enough that I might not run into anyone, anyway. I crept into the kitchen, loading up a tray with bread, cheese, and dried fruit, tossing a couple of strips of jerky on top for Alistair. I giggled as I remembered him declaring, at supper the night before, that he wanted 'meat with every meal'. Zevran made a smart comment about offering him some meat, and everyone howled as he blushed scarlet and stammered. I finally distracted the poor boy with a kiss, earning a grin from Aedan, and a wink from Zevran. The memory made me smile.

 I passed Leliana in the hall on the way back to the room I shared with Alistair, and she teased me about my hair, making me stop long enough for her to halfway tame it to lay straight down my back, and then I hustled along, chilly in the cold morning air, until I reached the door. I balanced the tray with one hand, awkwardly, almost dropping it as I grabbed for the door handle. Pushing my way inside, I stabilised the tray and deposited it on a table just inside the door, twisting to pull the door shut and lock it.

 As I turned back, I gasped as Alistair (who I expected to still be in bed, snoring peacefully) grabbed my arms, pulling me to him, crushing me into his embrace. And suddenly, his hands were in my hair, his lips bruising mine, his tongue in my mouth, and I was breathless in surprise. I could feel passion radiating off him in waves, and it was all I could do to fist my hands in the cotton of his tunic, holding on for dear life. The hair Leliana had carefully arranged was destroyed beyond repair as he tangled his strong fingers into it.

 He leaned into me, and I took an involuntary step back under his weight. He pressed again, and I was backed up against the door, our bodies clasped tightly together. His passion was infectious, and I was suddenly desperate to be closer to him. I could feel his muscles contracting under my fingers, and needed to lay my hands on his skin. Releasing his shirt, I slid my arms around his slim waist, slipping down beneath the edge of his tunic and back up to splay my hands against his lower back. His groan was feral, and I was actually frightened for a fraction of a second as my primitive brain responded to the much larger predator it suddenly realised was about to devour me. And I felt devoured; his mouth on mine was savage and demanding, his teeth nipping at my lips, his tongue dueling with mine. A shot of adrenaline coursed through me like fire, and a submissive moan was all I managed in response.

 His knee pressed between my legs, and mine separated to allow access. The sounds I could hear were exhilarating and confusing; I was so wrapped up in him I didn't even recognise my own voice. A moan as his thigh pressed against my sex; a sigh as his lips left mine; a gasp as he instead tilted my head and latched onto my neck; a growl as I felt his hardness on my hip. I needed him more than I needed air, and I started scrabbling at the buttons on his tunic, barely managing to disentangle his arms long enough to shove it down to the floor. One of his arms slipped around my waist, giving me an opening to run my fingers through his hair on their way down to stroke across his broad, muscular shoulders. His skin was hot to the touch, a striking contrast to the cold air, and I shuddered in response.

 Releasing me again, he reached down to grab at the fabric of my dress, trying to pull it up and get access to my own skin. The voluminous skirts thwarted him, tumbling down around his hands, and finally I pushed him away an inch, grabbed the hem, and lifted my arms, pulling the dress off over my head and tossing it to the floor. I hadn't bothered with bra or underwear for a quick run to the kitchen, and this left me naked. He let out a possessive growl as he raked over me with his eyes, and I flushed, pink traveling from my cheeks, to the tips of my ears, to the tops of my breasts, and I saw his eyes darken with appreciation. Despite the horror-movie hair I knew I must be sporting, I'd never felt so beautiful in my life.

 He returned to me then, hands suddenly everywhere, lips glued to my neck, providing both literal and figurative warmth to fight the chill in the air. His thigh returned to its place between my legs, and I could feel the rough linen of his trousers rubbing across my lower lips. I wondered if I'd leave a stain, and decided I didn't care. His hands roamed, from my neck, to cup my breasts, grip my ass and pull me tighter against him, tickle across my abdomen and tease my navel. Each new touch dragged another sound from my lips. He knelt in front of me, sucking each of my small breasts into his mouth in turn, hands still exploring me, and I grabbed a handful of his hair to hold his head in place while shudders ran through me. I felt like molten lava ran through my veins, not blood, and each place he touched was its own miniature volcano. Despite everything, I'd never truly felt feeble before, but in the face of his passion I was weak as a kitten.

 When he stood up, I couldn't take it any longer and fumbled at the waist of his trousers. He pushed my hands away, finally ripping the knotted cord that held them up, and kicked them off. I stared at him, my own perfect Adonis, his muscles rippling in time to his panting breaths, and he let me look, a knowing smile playing across his flushed face. My gaze travelled further down and I saw that he was hard, head purple and slightly leaking, reaching up towards me, and I needed him. I almost sobbed with need, hands reaching out for him. He waited another heartbeat, and then two, and I finally found my voice and whispered out a stuttered "Pl...please, Alistair."

 The last syllable rose to a cry as he rushed back to me, arms around me, lifting, pressing, and suddenly he had my legs wrapped around his waist, his hands on my ass, and he was lowering me onto him. I tilted my hips slightly as I felt his tip brush over my sex, capturing him and holding the right angle as he filled me. He pressed my back against the door, holding himself still and letting me adjust to his size. I wasn't having that, my need was too great, and I awkwardly tried to thrust my hips against his, scraping my nails across his back. Getting the picture, he buried his face in my neck again and lifted with his arms, sliding me up his cock before mercilessly dropping me back down. I hissed in pleasure, urging him to do it again, and he complied, setting up a rhythm, pounding into me, demanding surrender, and I cried out wantonly.

 I heard myself babbling, and as embarrassed as I was, I couldn't seem to stop. As he relentlessly thrust into me, a steady stream of endearments poured from my lips.

 "Only for you, Alistair. It was always and only you. I've never wanted anyone else, forever just for you."

 I peaked quickly, the lava boiling now, but he was relentless and kept going, kept demanding, and my whispers gave way to a rising keen as my temperature kept increasing, and I wondered if sex could actually make someone's head explode, and then I couldn't think as I came again, hips wriggling uselessly.

 Before I even had a chance to draw a breath, he lifted me up and off him, setting my feet shakily on the floor, and I moaned in despair as I was suddenly empty. I didn't have much time to think, however; he turned me, taking my hands and bracing them on the door where my back had been, reached around in front of me to run his fingers through my sodden lips, bent down a bit awkwardly, and suddenly I was filled again from behind.

 I bowed my head, resting it against my arms on the door, enjoying the aftershocks of my last orgasm as my walls squeezed him within me. He groaned again, and hunched over me, one hand reaching around to cup a small breast, his thumb flicking across my nipple, while the other steadied my hip. It was his turn to babble, and I heard him breathlessly whispering a mantra of possession and passion.

 "You are mine, I'll never let you go. So beautiful! Maker's Breath, I love you, Sierra."

 His thrusts increased in tempo again, and realising I was adequately stabilised, his hand followed the line of my hip, down in front, where his deft fingers found my button. Already over stimulated, I thrashed and shrieked, and with a roar his rhythm faltered and I felt him pulse inside me. Shuddering together, his hands finally stilled and slid away from my oversensitive parts, at the same time that he softened and slipped out of me. I turned and threw my arms around his neck, and he chuckled and wrapped his own around me. We clung together as we caught our breath, and then I felt his knees buckle. We collapsed to the ground in slow motion, managing only to turn so I landed in a pile of quilts, that he'd kicked away before bed, instead of on the stone floor. He ended up lying across me, his head pillowed on my breast, his belly pressed against my sex, his hips between my knees, while I lay on my back with my arms around his shoulders. I could feel our mixed secretions seeping out, probably soaking his belly and pooling in the blankets under me, but neither of us cared enough to do anything about it.

 I repositioned some of the quilts to provide myself a makeshift pillow, then returned to running my fingers through his hair and stroking his soft skin. It was an interesting contrast between the smooth skin and the hard muscle underneath, and I enjoyed the goosebumps I elicited as I played.

 "So...what brought that on, love?" I finally asked, curious.

 His voice was muffled as he nuzzled my breast, but I could have sworn he sounded embarrassed.

 "I woke up, and you weren't here. I thought...I thought you were gone. Back to your world. That I might never see you again. I jumped up and got dressed, planning to search the place. When you opened the door, I was so relieved, I just...lost control."

 "If this is my reward, I'm going to bring you breakfast in bed more often, I think." I grinned and he blushed. "Maybe not for a few days, though. I'm going to need some recovery time."

 "Oh, Maker, did I hurt you? I was so frantic..."

 "Hurt? No. Never. Wear out? Maybe a little bit." He lifted his head and grinned up at me, face smug. I playfully slapped his shoulder.

 "But, Alistair..." I pointed out the amulet that hung around my neck, the only thing I wore besides a satiated templar. "You could have just checked the bedpost. You saw me take this off last night..."

 His smugness turned into sheepishness. "I didn't even think to look. I just...panicked." I snickered again.

 "Well I'm not complaining." His smug smile resurfaced, and I grinned in return, at the same time that my mind worried. _What will happen the next time I actually disappear?_ I had tried to avoid Alistair for just this reason, but I was too weak...had I doomed him to panic every time I was out of his line of sight for five minutes?

 We fell asleep like that, on the floor, his body heat preventing me from getting cold. What finally woke us again was his stomach growling, and we laughed and crawled into the bed, naked, feeding each other playfully. We finally took turns washing up at the washstand and dressing before wandering down to the private dining room Aedan had rented. I was stiff, again, and wondered if I’d get the chance to drag Zev aside and ask if that ever got better, if you could get used to it. And to get a recipe for making those little healing bottles…

 We had planned a quiet day, overall; the three rogues were going to do some more recon on Marjolaine’s place, and the rest of us were just going to relax. In the dining room, Zev slipped me another healing bottle and then he left with Leli and Aedan, each of them giving me a hug on their way out. It occurred to me that I’d probably not had as many hugs in my entire life prior to Thedas as I had in the couple of months since. I’d begun to take it for granted, even, which was an amazing thought.

 Wynne decided to go to the market, and after some assurances from me, Alistair agreed to accompany her; I decided I’d stay at the Pearl and write some letters. He made me promise not to leave without him, and as sweet as it was, it irritated me a little. When I sniped at him and called him ‘father’, he backed off and apologised for being condescending. I forgave him immediately – _those damn puppy dog eyes!_ – but decided to milk it a little first. I grumbled some more, until he volunteered some payback.

 “If you’ll forgive me, I promise I will do anything you ask for the rest of the day after I get back.”

 I grinned, mind spinning. “Anything?”

 He actually looked a little bit frightened, but nodded anyway. I grinned lasciviously. “Done.” I leaned in to kiss him softly. “Hurry back.”

 I winked and he blanched before hurrying off to meet Wynne.

 I wandered down to the main room of the Pearl and found Sanga, as always, standing near the bar. I had to say she looked like the least likely Madam I could imagine – clean, neatly dressed, and just a little bit matronly. She was probably five years older than me. I tried to imagine her as a prostitute and just couldn’t do it. I figured it would be rude to ask, so I just tried not to think about it anymore.

 I bought some parchment and a quill pen and ink, and when I told her I’d never used a quill pen, she gave me a strange look but also gifted me some parchment scraps to practice writing on and some blotting sand in a little bag, which was apparently to keep the ink from smudging. I also got some sealing wax. I took my finds back to the private dining room and began to practice what was essentially calligraphy. It wasn’t going to be neat – I kept accidentally turning the quill, making the tip vary in width so my letters looked like they were scrawled by a drunk third grader, but it was legible. I figured out the sand – sprinkle it on the words, then roll the parchment and pour the sand back into the bag – and the sealing wax was easy, though I didn’t have a ring or anything with which to make an impression.

 The first letter flowed fairly easily.

           My Lord Nathaniel Howe,

           I don’t know if this letter will reach you in time, but I hold out hope. You don’t know me, though I know much about you. I know you’re an honourable man, which is the most important thing for my purposes.

          I can’t word it any better; your father has gone mad. He is power-hungry and ruthless. You may have heard that he took Highever Castle; the part you won’t have heard is that his excuse for doing so, the supposed treachery of the Couslands, was invented by him to justify his actions to the Landsmeet. There is no proof, as there couldn’t be; the Couslands were no traitors. You probably also did not hear how he had everyone in the castle slaughtered, including defenseless children and servants, because he could not allow anyone to survive and be questioned.

          He has also imprisoned and tortured nobles and Templars alike, and has even set up his new Denerim Estate bedroom with a private entrance to the dungeon so he can be more intimately…involved…with the torture. He now claims the titles not only to his Arling, but also Teyrn of Highever and Arl of Denerim. No one man should have so many noble titles; you know this, I think.

          I know you have no reason to believe me, and I don’t require you to; all I ask is that you come and see for yourself. I am hopeful that you can help to resolve this, and perhaps even keep your family name from being completely blackened. Please, come and see what he has done, what he has become. Then you can decide what is right.

          Maker watch over you,

          Sierra Jones

 I re-read the letter multiple times, and then put it aside to show Alistair (and Aedan, if he would read it). The next letter required a bit more thought. I knew I couldn’t save everyone, but I had to try.

          Dear Varric,

          You don’t know me, and we will probably never meet, though I could wish it were otherwise. I am writing to you with a rather unbelievable story, but I am hoping that I can somehow make you believe it. The lives and happiness of several people you will come to meet and care about depend on it.

          I am something of a seer, and I have seen some aspects of the future involving yourself and those around you. I do not know why, all I can do is try to prevent some of the tragedy I have foreseen.

          I know that you are planning a Deep Roads Expedition with your brother, Bartrand. I would try to discourage it, but I know it is unlikely you will listen. I hope, then, that I can convince you to at least take some precautions when you do.

          The first is: do not touch the red Lyrium, and especially not the idol you will find. And definitely do not allow Bartrand to touch it. Red Lyrium causes insanity, and that idol will cause the death of many, many people. Bartrand will go mad, and in his madness, will try to trap you in the Deep Roads so he does not have to share his treasure. Search your heart; you know he’s capable of doing it.

          The second is: do not go on the expedition without the Grey Warden mage who will provide the maps you need. There are darkspawn in the Deep Roads, and if someone becomes tainted, he is their only hope for a cure.

          You will meet someone, in a year or so, who will agree to be part of the expedition. Her name is Hawke. She will have a startling menagerie of companions, and you will become one as well. I do not know if either of her siblings survived to arrive in Kirkwall. If they did, I beg you to have her send them, and her mother Leandra, away. Anywhere other than Kirkwall will do. If they stay, she will lose everyone. Kirkwall will need Hawke, but if her family stays, there will be only tragedy. Her siblings, if they have survived this far, will either die, end up as Grey Wardens, or end up in the Circle as either Templar or mage; and her mother will be targeted by an insane blood mage and killed. The only way I know for her to keep them safe is to send them far away. Show her this letter, if you think it will help. Her family can return to Ferelden, and if they seek out the Grey Wardens here, I will attempt to ensure they receive whatever aid they require.

          Tell Fenris his sister has been blackmailed into setting a trap for him. It’s not her fault. Oh, and tell Merrill to leave the damn mirror alone. She will know what I am talking about. If she persists, her clan will perish. The ones she wishes to save are already dead, and nothing can be done to bring either of them back. Get Hawke to talk to her, if she won’t listen to you.

          I hope that this…decreases the tragedy you will witness over the next ten years. If you ever make it to Ferelden, seek me out with the Grey Wardens. I am not one, but I travel with some.

          Maker watch over you.

          Sierra Jones

 I debated writing a letter specifically to Hawke, and decided to leave it until after the Blight was over. Perhaps I could even convince Anders to take it… _oh bloody hell, Anders. What am I going to do about that? A problem for another day._

I still had some parchment left, so I began to make some lists. I started a small list of items we needed to buy before we left Denerim. I also made a list of odd things about my situation; for the first time since I arrived, I had time to really think about all of the things that didn’t make sense about my presence here.

  _Let me think_. First, and most obvious – how? How did I get here, and how did my mind get to Earth in the first place if I was really meant to be born a Cousland? Where did my mind find a body to inhabit on Earth? What happened to the original occupant? Had I kicked someone else out of that body? I had to leave that one blank; I had absolutely no idea, and no amount of thinking helped.

 Secondly, things that happen to my body in Thedas were mimicked on Earth. If I cut myself in Thedas, my body back there had a cut. If I got a tattoo, it showed up there. But the reverse was not – always – true. My broken nose, my losing my virginity, and my excess weight didn’t translate to Thedas. But my laser hair removal and lack of periods did. _How does that even make sense?_ Still no idea. And how was I able to bring items with me in my pockets, some of which persisted in Thedas even after I was dragged back? _Moving right along…_

Third, what happened to my Thedas body when I was back on Earth? My Earth body stayed put wherever it was when I popped over, but the body here disappeared completely. Along those lines, what happened to the body of the baby that was born here with no soul, or mind? Had it died? If not, what had Aedan’s parents done with it?

 Fourth, why were the intervals that I spent in Thedas increasing, and why would being upset seem to trigger me going back to Earth?

 There was the obvious templar thing. How does a person from Earth with no training whatsoever suddenly end up a templar? And why do templar powers here cause electrical blackouts on Earth?

 And then there was the fact that to darkspawn, I was completely invisible until I attacked them. Demons, undead, and bandits had no trouble, but somehow I was a black hole around darkspawn. How was that possible? And why me?

 In addition, how the heck had David Gaider known enough about Thedas to make a video game that detailed and accurate? Had he been to Thedas as well?

 At the end of my list, all I had were questions, and no possible answers. I was frustrated, and no further along than when I’d started.

 I jumped and hurried to cover my lists and letters with a blank piece of parchment when I heard the door behind me opening. Sanga came in with a plate of roasted pheasant, some sort of potato thing, and some fresh fruit. I hadn’t even realised it was already lunchtime. I ate alone, staring at my lists again, without any further progress. When I’d finished eating, I gathered up my papers and headed back up to my room and took yet another nap.

 


	48. Overprotection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the original, unedited, NSFW version of this story. If graphic sex scenes do not appeal, please see my profile on fanfiction.net for the toned down version.

Chapter Forty-Eight: Overprotection

 When I woke, Alistair was creeping into the room, and I startled him when I sat up. Laughing and clutching his chest, he lit a couple more candles and came in. I helped him off with his breastplate – I could barely lift the thing, so it was a bit difficult for him to take off alone, though I knew he could manage. He told me he and Wynne had wandered the market, and he thought he had located Gorim for me. He promised to take me there with Aedan the following morning. Otherwise, Wynne had bought a few things, they had browsed the Wonders of Thedas, and then eaten lunch and come back.

 “We went one other place while we were out.”

 “Oh?”

 “You never mentioned that Goldanna was a gold-digging harridan.” His tone was light, but his expression was irritated.

 I sighed. “Oh, Alistair. I didn’t want you to know. I figured since she wasn’t actually your sister that you wouldn’t have to meet her and be exposed to her shrewishness. I hoped you could keep vaguely happy memories of believing you had a sister. I’m sorry.” I suddenly worried I’d have to choose whether to ‘harden’ him, until I realised that in this altered history, he didn’t need it. He was much more confident, had less survivor’s guilt, and didn’t have that same urge to sacrifice himself for a cause. He wouldn’t need to take the throne; he didn’t need encouragement to be more selfish. I smiled.

 I reached out and took his hand, and he let me. “I should have told you.”

 He squeezed my hand and smiled softly at me. “I love you. But would you stop trying to protect me?”

 “Never. Dare I ask how much coin you gave her?”

 “None, actually. You should have seen Wynne when she started moaning about mouths to feed. Besides, I didn’t have that much coin on me. I left most of it here, and then between buying Wynne’s supplies, and…well, anyway I didn’t give her anything.”

 He was blushing as I encouraged him to lay down and cuddle with me on the bed, and I wondered what he wasn’t saying, until he dropped a small box onto the bed between us.

 “I bought you something.”

 “You did? Why? I mean, thank you! That sounded really ungrateful. But is there some special occasion I’m missing?”

 He chuckled. “Not at all. I just wanted to.”

 I picked up the box nervously. “No one has ever bought me anything for no reason before.”

 “All the more reason for me to do it now.”

 I leaned in and kissed him, and then turned back to the box. Inside was a delicate silver rose pendant, complete with thorns on the stem, on a sturdy but beautiful silver chain. I stared at it, shocked. It almost exactly matched my tattoo on my Earth body. It was amazing.

 I looked up to see him looking a bit anxious. “Alistair, it’s…it’s gorgeous! I love it. Where did you find something so beautiful?”

 “There was a silversmith in the market. I saw it yesterday and had him put the clasp on it and put it on a chain. I just thought it could be like…a reminder.” We shared a smile, thinking back a few weeks to when he’d given me the rose.

 “I don’t need a reminder, I still have that rose. It’s still perfectly preserved. But I love this. It is beautiful, and you are sweet.” I pulled him into a deeper kiss, then finally sat up and lifted my hair so he could put the chain around my neck. It nestled perfectly into the hollow of my throat. He stroked it with his fingers as he kissed me again, and I purred.

 Pulling away once we were both breathless, he gestured to the mess of papers I had scattered on the table near the door. I reached over and grabbed them, showing them to Alistair. He read my letters, asking me more questions about Hawke and her companions in Kirkwall. I told him as much of the story as I could remember, though my memory of the second Dragon Age game was somewhat hazy – I’d only ever played it through once, and it hadn’t held the same appeal as the first. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to avert some of the tragedy. I avoided telling him about Anders and Justice. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt like another one of those secrets that weren’t mine to tell.

 “Do you think Howe’s son will really come back?”

 “I’m not even sure I can get the letter to him. Just a name, with the address being ‘the Free Marches’ isn’t terribly specific. And I’m not sure he could do anything if he did come back. But if he doesn’t, and Aedan kills Howe, which he will, he will try to kill Aedan. I’d rather avoid that, if I can. Nate’s not a bad guy. I want him to understand why his father has to pay for his actions.”

 He hugged me again, and then we turned to my list of weird things about Sierra. He didn’t have any other ideas, but just the fact that I’d shared it with him and he hadn’t run away was comforting. We lay together and just cuddled for a bit more of the afternoon before heading to the dining room together for supper. Aedan, Zev and Leli were waiting for us, all freshly bathed, and Wynne as usual had her nose buried in a book. I stepped over to her to give her an appreciative hug for protecting Alistair from Goldanna for me, and she smiled and patted my shoulder.

 While we ate supper, Aedan told us about the guard schedule and floor plan information they’d managed to glean from the house Marjolaine was staying in. Zev had snuck up to peek through the windows, and they had taken turns watching the place all day. It was on the edge of the market district, pretty upscale, really, and quite well guarded, though they’d found a few holes in the security to exploit. They planned to take her down the following afternoon, when the guards switched and one usually left to get the others their meals.

 That was when the fight began.

 Aedan insisted that I stay at the Pearl while they took care of Marjolaine. Leliana and Alistair agreed, to my annoyance.

 “Sierra, you know how you feel about fighting people. If you go in there, at minimum you’re going to have to watch us do it, and if things go poorly you may even have to fight. I don’t want your guilt on my hands.”

 “Aedan, you’re going to be facing at least two mages in there. Alistair can’t handle both, and besides he’ll be busy swinging that big shield of his around. I can stay out of the melee, but at least let me neutralize one of the mages. I promise I’ll leave once it’s done. But I’m not staying here to worry about you all when I could help. It’s bad enough when you guys are doing Chanter’s board stuff or working with Sergeant Kylon.”

 “Sierra…”

 “Forget it, Aedan.”

 Leliana, in desperation, tried to drag Zevran into it. “You haven’t chimed in yet, what do you think, Zev? Sierra should stay here and be safe, no?”

 “I don’t know about that, oh most beauteous bard.”

 I gave him a grateful smile, but Aedan gave an indignant squawk and I knew there would be problems between them later. I tried to save Zev from himself, but he just kept talking.

 “Things are only going to get more difficult from here. Between Loghain, and Howe, and the dwarves, and miles of Deep Road…it can’t but help to have Sierra actually battle-ready, since you have said it’s impossible to leave her behind. I think she needs to be given a chance, in a real fight. Even if she just stands back and neutralizes a mage. It’s not that we can’t do it without her – we are ridiculously awesome, after all – but we shouldn’t.”

 I was impressed at his succinct summary of the situation. And of course, he was right; they wouldn’t always be able to protect me. Not that I was some sort of blood-thirsty idiot; I was still nauseous when I thought about trying to actually stab a real person with my daggers, but if I was going to be stuck in this world – if I wanted to be stuck in this world – I had to learn to live in it.

 Alistair had the good sense to keep his mouth shut during the discussion. I knew he’d want me to stay out of it, but he knew better than to openly say it, at least where I could hear.

 “Aedan. Stop protecting me. You have to let me live, too. I’ll stay in the next room. But I’m coming.”

 Very reluctantly he nodded, and I sighed. _Big brothers can be a total pain in the ass!_ I smiled.

 “So we go meet Gorim in the morning, Marjolaine in the afternoon…maybe drop by and see how Wade is coming with our armour in between?”

 Everyone agreed. Dinner finished, Wynne decided to stay and read. Leliana planned to go play some more music in the common room – apparently Sanga had even offered to pay her to do it; Aedan and Zevran made noises about going to their room, but given they were the only ones still in armour, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that they were going skulking around the city. I worried, but knew there was nothing I could do. And of everyone I’d ever met, those two could take care of themselves.

 Alistair and I were left, and we decided to head to our room. I think he realised I needed a distraction from worrying about Aedan. He kissed my neck while I unlocked the door, and I tried to relax. We were still in that slightly awkward stage where we knew we wanted each other naked at every possible opportunity, but were too embarrassed to just go ahead and do it, so we stood looking at each other and avoiding eye contact for a painful few moments. Finally I cleared my throat, desire winning over fear.

 “So. You said that you would do anything I asked. Did I hear that right? Anything?” I smiled a smug, wicked grin.

 Alistair’s pout was cute. “Yes, I did. I get the feeling I’m going to regret that, though. Am I?”

 My grin widened. “No, I don’t think you will.” I moved close to him, and then went up on tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “What I’m going to ask of you is easy. All I want you to do is just stand still. You can do that, right? Just don’t move unless I specifically ask you to. Easy.”

 His quiet groan sent a bolt of desire shooting through me. _This is going to be fun_. I positioned him, standing in the middle of the room, feet slightly spread. He crossed his arms, somewhat self-conscious, but I reached out and made him drop them. I spent a few moments just walking around him, in a circle, admiring my prize. As always, I was struck by how unbelievably gorgeous he was. Part of me wanted to rush it, to have him take me and push me down onto the bed, but I resisted. I was planning on making this night special. He fidgeted slightly as I stared at him.

 “Tsk, tsk. Already moving? You keep doing that and I’ll have to find a way to punish you.” My naughty grin made him groan again. I could see the bulge in the front of his trousers and licked my lips lasciviously.

 Done staring, I moved closer, reaching one hand out to trail a finger across one of his collar bones and down the centre of his chest lightly. His jaw clenched, but otherwise he held still, so I added my other hand. Systematically I stroked his chest, his shoulders, his back, his firm stomach. I kept my touch light, teasing, and watched him struggle not to thrash when I tickled somewhere sensitive. I verbalised a commentary of what I was doing, describing each tantalising body part as I touched it.

 He opened his mouth to reply, but I silenced him with a finger and a look. Moving around to his front, I leaned in close and licked his neck softly. I slowly unbuttoned the shirt, pulling it back to kiss and lick the newly bared skin with each step. Finally the shirt was open completely, and I pushed it off his shoulders, letting it fall to puddle at his feet.

 His upper body was cut, not like the body builders from Earth but almost. He had firm, ropey muscles running across his shoulders, down his biceps and his chest. Now bare, I ran my fingers across them again, following behind with my lips and tongue. I teased him with soft licks and kisses, ran my fingers through his sparse blond chest hair, and enjoyed the feeling of his muscles tensing where I touched. Happy with my examination of his chest, I moved behind him and did the same with his back and shoulder blades. His breath came a little more shallowly as I licked and kissed the points of his shoulder blades and traced his spine with my fingers.

 Moving back in front of him, I looked up to meet his gaze as I slowly leaned forward and licked a nipple. He gasped and twitched slightly, and I grinned and did it again, then switched sides. I’d never paid much attention to the little firm bumps before, and they were apparently extremely sensitive. The bulge I could feel now against my belly enlarged and pulsed slightly with every tongue swipe. Curious, I sucked on one nipple and gently allowed my teeth to close over it; I was rewarded with a hiss and him losing control enough to raise him arms before catching himself and lowering them to his sides, fists now clenched as well. His next breath was ragged, and I repeated the motion on the other nipple with much the same effect.

 Unable to wait anymore, I slipped around behind him again. Moving quietly, I grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head; my bra shortly joined it on the floor, and I moved closer to Alistair, my arms encircling his waist from behind, and I pressed my breasts against his bare back. When he groaned I knew he could feel my nipples on his skin, and I spent a few moments teasing us both by rubbing them against him. Kissing his back, I reached down and slowly unlaced the front of his trousers. My fingers bumped against his erection, and it throbbed in response. I chuckled darkly, my voice hoarse with arousal.

 Laces undone, I slowly eased his trousers off his hips. I slid down his back, keeping my skin in contact with his, kissing his back as I sank. My nipples scraped down his bare skin until they came into contact with his smallclothes, my mouth still licking and kissing his lower back. Once on my knees, I sat back a bit and pushed his trousers the rest of the way down, demanding he lift each foot in turn so I could throw them into the pile with the rest of our clothes. I ran my hands down his thighs, tense with arousal, the muscles standing out. I kissed the skin just above the band of his smallclothes, and he muttered a curse under his breath. In punishment, I opened my mouth and took a small bite of the skin on his ass through the thin fabric. He gasped and jerked, so I gripped his hips and did it again on the other side. The single curse became a string of prayers and curse words all jumbled together, and I smiled smugly at my accomplishment.

 I trailed my lips down the back of one thigh, then licked the sensitive skin behind his knee; he almost fell as he jumped, and I grinned and repeated it on the other side. Satisfied, I stood and moved around to his front. His eyes were dark with desire, pupils enormous, and his gaze raked across my nearly naked body.   I wriggled out of my panties, struggling against my shyness to expose myself totally to him. I stepped up to his front, again teasing his skin with the hard points of my nipples, and we both moaned softly. I pulled his head down for an intense kiss, then released him to slap his eager hands away.

 “Now now, not so fast! I’m not done with you.”

 He groaned again, which switched to a gasp as he felt my fingers slip inside the waistband of his smalls. I gently peeled them away from his throbbing erection, allowing them to slide down his legs, finally leaving him naked. I licked my lips as I stared at the firm pole of glistening flesh that was pointing at me. I slowly sank to my knees again, feeling him shudder as his length was briefly captured in the valley between my breasts. I kissed down his belly then detoured to gently bite into the skin of his hip, triggering another gasp. My hands stroked the front of his thighs, and I could feel him trembling.

 I leaned back and examined his erection, his crown purple, foreskin already pulled back, slit oozing clear fluid. His heavy sac was hanging underneath, light fuzz obscuring nothing. I licked my lips again, then, bracing my hands on his thighs, leaned forward to dart my tongue out and taste the clear fluid. I contemplated the taste for a moment – salty, as expected, but not unpleasant – and then tried again. Alistair’s legs were trembling more.

 “Sierra…Maker, what are you doing to me?” He gasped and I grinned as I licked all the way from the base to the tip of his length, then lifted one hand to cup his sac as I did it again. The trembling increased, and I could read agonised arousal on his face as my tongue lightly stimulated him. Finally taking pity on him, I engulfed the head with my mouth, my tongue darting around the tip, one hand still massaging his sac while the other came to grip his shaft. I knew I wasn’t getting much more than that in my mouth – he was large, and contrary to at least one foster mother’s belief, my mouth wasn’t – so I used my hand to slowly stroke the exposed length. I hollowed out my cheeks, sucking softly, loving the sounds I was pulling from him as I did. His stream of prayers and curses resumed as I sucked, licked, and stroked, and I felt his sac pull up against his body as he prepared to orgasm. I stopped, letting his cock pop out from between my lips with a sucking sound, and gently squeezed the base of his shaft until I could feel the urge had passed.

 He groaned in dismay, and I smirked evilly at him. “That’s for moving when you weren’t supposed to.”

 I leaned in to start again, lips and tongue stimulating the engorged head as my hands resumed their gentle stroking. I could feel him trying to resist, but before long he was subtly thrusting his hips and groaning incoherently. Again I stopped, and he cried out in disappointment. His breath stuttered as he panted with need, his face a gorgeous mix of passion and agony, and I finally smiled.

 “Okay, Alistair. Come on, then.” I met his gaze as I engulfed his erection again, and this time I had no intention of stopping. I sucked and stroked, and his legs shook, and his hands came up to touch my cheek and my hair, for which I forgave him. He didn’t grab me or try to control my movements, and I was grateful. I tried to express my love for him through my eyes as the rest of me tried to give him release. He whispered, warningly, and I shrugged off his weak attempt to push me away, and then he shouted my name as he came, explosively, in my willing mouth. I swallowed as fast as I could, barely able to keep up with the onslaught. Finally, it seemed he was done, and he slumped forward and braced himself on my shoulders. I gave one last suck, one last stroke, and then slowly released his now overly sensitive, rapidly deflating package.

 He groaned, voice husky, as he caught his breath and I stood up. He pulled me into him, crushing me into a tight embrace. I smiled and cuddled into his chest.

 “You know, I didn’t say you could move yet.”

 “Oh, to the Void with that!” He reached down, scooped me up, and tossed me across the room onto the bed. The massive frame creaked and groaned under the sudden assault, and for a brief moment I thought I might be dumped onto the floor. Finally the frame stabilised, and Alistair climbed into the bed with me.

 


	49. Untold Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the original unedited version of this story, with explicit descriptions of sex. If you would like to read the version without steamy bits, please see my profile on fanfiction.net with the same username.

Chapter Forty-Nine: Untold story

 He sprawled onto his back, and I curled up against his broad chest, pulling the covers up over us both. I was shivering slightly, uncertain whether it was just the chill or also the pent up arousal. Alistair rolled towards me, wrapping me in his arms.

“So that was…intense,” he started.

 I laughed. “That was sort of the point, yes.”

 “But I…we…why?”

 “Tonight was about you, love. I can only tell you how overwhelmingly attractive you are so many times; I thought, this time, that I’d prove it.”

 He blushed. “It seemed more like it was about…you showing me who was in charge.”

 “Merely a side benefit, I promise.” I grinned, and he chuckled.

 “Well, you know that normally I have no trouble letting someone else lead. Especially someone so beautiful.” He leaned in and kissed me, and I moaned. _Yep, definitely the arousal, not the cold._ He pulled away and grinned. “You don’t have to go to extraordinary lengths to get me to follow you.”

 I smiled softly. “You know, that’s a load of crap. You’re a lot more competent – and confidant – than you let on. You lead when you need to, and you’re good at it.”

 His eyes crinkled in amusement at my Earth words. “Don’t tell anyone else that! Maker, they might try to get me to lead more often!” I giggled. “Speaking of, I’ve been incredibly selfish. And there’s something I’ve wanted to try, if I may.”

 I’d have responded, but his mouth closed over mine just as his hand weaved its way into my hair, and he shifted us so he lay on top of me, his knees between mine supporting most of his weight. I lifted my legs, bending both knees, expecting him to push forward and enter me; I hadn’t checked, but if prior experience was anything to go by, he would be ready again. Instead, to my surprise, he released my mouth and began kissing his way down my jaw to my throat. I moaned softly, enjoying the attention but too over-stimulated already to need it.

 I wriggled my hips, brushing against his length. “Please don’t tease, just-“

 He interrupted me with a finger on my lips, and then went back to kissing his way down my neck. I expected him to linger at my breasts for a while – like most men I’d met, he seemed fascinated by those two little bumps – but this time after a few moments he continued further down to lick and kiss my flat stomach. My breath caught when I realised what he had planned. I tried to tell him he didn’t need to do that, and he ignored me entirely. And then he pressed my thighs firmly out to the side, and I stopped talking as his mouth descended to my sex.

 I’d never seen anything as sexy in my life as Alistair, prone, my legs over his shoulders, his tongue out and lapping at the moisture dripping from my folds. It felt incredible, as he explored me more intimately, and I shrieked as he added two fingers into my canal as he licked me. I could feel one of his hands holding my writhing hips down, and I clung to it for dear life. He clamped his lips around my little button and sucked hard; white light exploded behind my eyelids as I came, chanting his name.

 And then he was in me, and I could taste myself on his lips as he kissed me, and I whimpered as he thrust furiously, prolonging my orgasm until I felt him spill inside me again.   I clung to him and he held me as we both panted our recovery.

 “Maker, at some point isn’t this insatiable…need supposed to ease off?” His face was pink, I wasn’t sure if from exertion or embarrassment.

 “Not yet, apparently.” I grinned and kissed him softly, then cuddled into his side as we rearranged ourselves and fell asleep.

 The next morning, I wasn’t as stiff or sore, and I virtually scampered to the bathing room. Alistair groaned and rolled over, so I let him sleep. I knew my desire for daily bathing was considered strange, and it wasn’t like Alistair stank or anything, so I could keep my weird issues to myself. I noticed for the first time that the tubs had a large drain underneath that led to some sort of pipe to drain the water without having to carry it out in buckets. It gave me ideas, and I decided if I was going to be able to stay in Ferelden, I was going to invent at least rudimentary plumbing. _After the Blight._

 I dressed in my armour, for the first time since coming to Denerim, minus one bracer that I hoped to pick up at Wade’s at some point. Breakfast was a quick affair of scones and porridge and jerky. Aedan was acting normally, even smiling and joking as Leli and Zev teased Alistair and me for keeping people awake again. I was relieved – I hadn’t been looking forward to dealing with my brother’s overprotective streak. Once we finished, Alistair, Aedan, Zevran and I headed out with Prince in tow. We agreed to meet Leli and Wynne at the Gnawed Noble for lunch, so the four of us had the morning to ourselves. It took us a bit to make our way to the market, avoiding other groups of armed people as much as possible, and then we were finally there. We wore full helmets, which I found totally uncomfortable, but it would have looked weird if the boys did and I didn’t, so I sucked it up.

 We were there early enough that it wasn’t busy yet; we got a good chance to look around at the various merchants setting up shop. Alistair led us to where he thought he’d seen Gorim, and suddenly there he was. _Red hair, thick braided beard, pissed off expression – yeah, that’s him._ We waited until another customer left, and then approached the dwarf’s stall. There was a variety of weaponry and armour on display, and Aedan made a show of examining some of it. When Gorim caught sight of the four of us, his face clouded over and his scowl became huge.

 “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not ‘hiring’ any of you sodding nug-humpers. You’d better come back with more men if you intend to challenge that.” He was hefting a rather large war axe as he spoke. He was strongly favouring one leg as he stood there, but he still looked menacing with the weapon in his hand. I’d sort of forgotten he was a warrior; there was no question he knew what to do with the heavy axe.

 I winced; it hadn’t occurred to me what four armed and armoured people approaching him would look like under these circumstances. I stepped forward and reached up to take off my helmet; Alistair put his hand on my shoulder, and I saw Aedan tense, but it wasn’t as though anyone in Denerim knew who I was. I gave them reassuring smiles and turned back.

 “You misunderstand, ser. We are not mercenaries. We are not here collecting coin.”

 He looked skeptical, but gave me a big, false smile. “Well in that case, what are you interested in, milady? I’ve got dwarven arms and armour, straight from Orzammar.”

 “I’m sure we will take a look, but listen, we aren’t here for that.” I glanced around, making sure no one seemed to be watching; the three men all chose random display items to appear to be examining. I lowered my voice. “I know who you are, Gorim. And I know why you left Orzammar. These men are Grey Wardens, and I was hoping we could talk to you about the…situation, in Orzammar. Things have changed since you left. Endrin is dead, and the Assembly are dead-locked between Bhelen and Harrowmont. I was hoping you could offer us some insight into the politics we will be walking into when we go there.”

 I couldn’t miss the flash of hope that crossed his face when I mentioned the Wardens, but it was quickly covered by skepticism and despair.

 “Grey Wardens, you say? Rumour is, they’re the ones who betrayed the King. I have a hard time believing they’d advertise their presence here.”

 I heard Aedan and Alistair shift, and quickly gestured them down.

 “I know, Gorim. There’s only a couple of them left, though, and they need all the help they can get. And think about it. You know more about Wardens than any Fereldan – would they actually betray a King, let the darkspawn win? Do you seriously believe that? We came to you because I told them you can be trusted.”

 “And how, exactly, do you know that? Maybe I’ll turn you in myself for the bounty. I’m a surfacer now, I could use the coin.”

 “I don’t believe it for a moment. You may have left Orzammar, but you haven’t abandoned your honour. Sereda believed in you, and so do I, Gorim.”

 His face coloured at the mention of Sereda. “You know nothing, human. You-“

 I cut him off. “I know she loved you. I know you tried to sway the decision to have her sent to the Deep Roads. I know you’d have gone to the Deep Roads with her, if they’d have let you. I know that they may be able to take you away from the stone, but they can’t take the stone away from you all the same. And if you cared about her at all, you would want to tell us anything you could to prevent that traitor, Bhelen, from ascending the throne, and help us keep Orzammar strong with Harrowmont, unless you have a better idea? Orzammar needs you. I think she’d want you to help us.”

 He stared at me for a while, then switched his gaze to the armoured men with me. I don’t know what he thought he’d see with them in full helmets, but he spent a few moments on each. Finally he returned to me.

 “You sure you’re a Grey Warden? Should have been a Deshyr. Maybe they’d make you Queen if you asked them nice enough.”

 I laughed, and he cracked a small, brief but genuine smile. “I’m not. They are. I guess I’m a…helper.”

 “I will talk to you. But not here. I have a house in this district. I’ll give you directions. Come for supper; my wife will want to hear this.”

 I was stunned – wife? I’d never finished the game as a dwarf, so I supposed maybe if I’d played the Aeducan I’d have known that, but…wife? I thought he loved Sereda? I shook my head. _Well I’m going to assume he isn’t coming with us to Orzammar, then…_ I hoped he would have some information of use, regardless.

 He and Aedan discussed directions and time – I had enough trouble figuring out morning or afternoon, nevermind specifics. And Aedan at least generally knew his way around Denerim. Once satisfied, he bought me a new dagger from Gorim’s stock, as an excuse for us spending so much time standing there, and then we left.

 It was still early, so we dropped into Wade’s shop and picked up our repaired and newly made armour. Wade preened under the effusive praise as Aedan, Zev, and Alistair put on their new, fancy armour, and I had to admit it all looked quite impressive. Aedan paid for the spare pants for Leli, deciding just to let her keep them rather than have to bring them back later; I allowed the newly adjusted straps to be fitted onto my chest piece, and laced my bracer back into place.

 Wade again refused pay for the work he’d done, though while he was adjusting Alistair’s armour I noticed that Aedan had disappeared briefly. I guessed that the couple would find some gold tucked some place interesting later, and I grinned at Aedan when he returned. Gifting Wade Aedan’s and Zevran’s old armour, we took our leave to meet Wynne and Leliana at the Gnawed Noble.

 As we walked across the market, I asked. “Aedan? How do you even know what time it is?”

 He stopped and looked at me. “The sun? And the bells from the Chantry. How do you figure it out, back home?”

 “We had watches. And phones. And clocks. They were-“

 He cut me off. “Machines. Right, should have known.” He grinned and I laughed.

 We entered the Gnawed Noble, Aedan arranging a private room for us to eat lunch, so they could all take their helmets off without risk. The food, while good, was no better than that at the Pearl. Once we were done, we all geared up and headed out.

 The plan was for Alistair and Prince to go in first, with Aedan and Zev stealthing in on his heels, followed by Leli and Wynne, and me at the back, staying out of sight as much as possible. Alistair and I agreed that he’d take the mage on the right and I’d take the left, assuming there were actually two. We waited around the corner as Aedan watched the guards, until he saw the one leave to go get food for the others, and we moved fast once he motioned us forward. He incapacitated the one guard standing outside, and then we were in.

 The fighting was bloody, and as much as I was bothered by it, I made myself watch. I could probably have talked Leliana out of coming here, if I’d tried; I knew this had to be done, but I deserved to have to live with the consequences of that decision. And I couldn’t afford to be caught by surprise and injured, or Aedan would try to lock me in a bubble somewhere afterwards. There were a couple of fights before we reached Marjolaine, and by the slight widening of the dark-haired woman’s eyes, she hadn’t missed the fresh blood dripping off of our weapons when we entered.

 She had the expected conversation with Leli, though I was pleased to note Leliana seemed more confidant when she spoke than she had in game. Leli refused to accept anything Marjolaine said, and so of course there was no way out but a fight.

 I felt vindicated when a couple of mages joined, and quickly neutralized the mana of the one on the left, while I felt Alistair do the same on the right. I used the mana to put shields on my friends, so Wynne didn’t even need to heal. I had hoped that some of the mercenaries would surrender once Marjolaine died, and I wasn’t disappointed. Aedan pulled them aside, had some quick words, then sent them on their way. I assumed he was threatening them to prevent them from joining the gangs that now seemed to be running much of the city.

 The mages, on the other hand, would not submit even with no mana and held at sword-point. They feared we would turn them over to the Chantry, and claimed they’d rather die than become Tranquil, which I could understand. Truly, I was torn – as much as I abhorred how mages were treated in Thedas, a couple of mercenary, possible blood mages running free didn’t sit well either. In the end, Aedan was forced to kill them, and I could see from his expression that he didn’t enjoy it. Leliana took off, heading back to the Pearl, and Wynne went with her; the rest of us looted the various items of value from Marjolaine’s house and followed them.

 After we had all cleaned up – Alistair and I bathing separately so as to save time – Aedan, Alistair, Zev and I geared back up and headed out to Gorim’s. Wynne decided to accompany us, so Leliana came as well. The house we came to was small but immaculately well-kept, with flowers in boxes by the front door, the wood obviously freshly painted. Aedan knocked, and the tiniest person I had ever seen answered the door. It was a child, a dwarven child, and the little one was close to the size of a human toddler, though by his speech he must have been at least five. Although it occurred to me I had absolutely no idea how long dwarves lived or how fast they matured, so I couldn’t be sure of that. A young, pretty, vastly pregnant dwarven woman came up behind him, obviously his mother based on the family resemblance. She spoke softly, welcoming us in, but her eyes got rather large when she spotted Prince; Aedan asked him to stay outside, and he whined but settle down on the doorstep.

 She introduced herself as Riana. She had no facial tattoo, I noticed, so she hadn’t been casteless at any point. She had long brown hair, tied loosely into a bun, and had she been human I’d have put her age in her late twenties. We all took off our helmets, leaving them near the door, and she brought us into the kitchen, which had a long low table capable of accommodating probably ten people, and offered us drinks, which no one accepted.

 The house was homey, and the smell from the oven heavenly. The little one, whose name was Revan, climbed under the table with some wooden toys, much to my amusement and his mother’s dismay. I wondered where his father was – I knew it couldn’t be Gorim, he’d only been on the surface for months – but thought it would probably be rude to ask.

 Riana told us that Gorim was out back, in a work shed, helping her father who was the smith that made many of the items Gorim sold. She expected him back in the house soon, and so we all settled for a few minutes, making awkward small talk. From what I was able to gather, without asking too many questions, there was no way that the babe she carried was actually Gorim’s; she was too close to delivery, unless dwarves had a much shorter pregnancy than humans. Wynne asked permission to check on the baby, which she granted, and Wynne declared that she was a healthy baby girl.

 She seemed very respectful towards Aedan and Alistair, a bit in awe of meeting actual Grey Wardens (or maybe of their height, I giggled to myself). She was a bit confused by Zevran, Leliana, and me, but didn’t ask. Revan kept it from getting awkward with adorable comments and questions, including comparing himself in size to Alistair’s boot. We were all in stitches when Gorim entered, looking at us all in confusion.

 He smiled fondly at the little boy, and went around to sit beside his wife. I noted he had a slight limp, and wondered what that was all about. His wife smiled brilliantly at him, and he placed his hand on her shoulder. It was a sweet gesture, and I smiled as Alistair mimicked him, and then giggled as Aedan did the same to Zevran. We repeated the introductions, and Gorim gave both Grey Wardens a long, judging once-over. He seemed to approve, nodding to himself and relaxing slightly.

 Riana stood up and served dinner, some sort of roast meat with potatoes. I didn’t ask what the meat was, and no one said; Alistair did give me a strange look when I ate it, so I guessed it was something I normally wouldn’t have. It didn’t taste bad, however, and as long as everyone kept quiet, I figured I’d be okay. We all dug in, thanking Riana heartily for the meal.

 “So. You’re the last Grey Wardens, I hear.”

 Aedan nodded, swallowing his mouthful. “We have been gathering an army to defeat the darkspawn, before the blight takes over Ferelden.”

 Gorim turned to me. “And so who are you, exactly?”

 I gestured at Aedan. “His sister. I’m trying to help them. But I’m also…I guess the best word for it would be a seer.”

 “As in, can see the future?” He scoffed. “I doubt that.”

 “Not exactly. More like…I can see certain possible future options, based on what’s happened already. It’s limited, I only know about certain things, but what I know will happen unless we do something to change it.”

 He snorted. “If the future could have been changed, why wouldn’t you have stopped the massacre at Ostagar?”

 I flushed guiltily. “I would have if I could. I couldn’t get there fast enough.” Alistair squeezed my shoulder gently, and I leaned into him a bit. “I did what I could – I slowed down the advance so some of the vanguard could escape. If I’d been able to arrive the day before…but I couldn’t, and I can’t go back in time.”

 He still looked skeptical. I couldn’t blame him; it sounded insane, even to me, and I was living it.

 “Look, maybe I can help. Why don’t I start by telling you what I know about you? Then you can decide if I’m crazy.” I smiled, and he laughed softly.

 “You’ve got confidence, I’ll give you that. Go ahead, I’m listening.”

 Now that he was staring at me expectantly, I felt a little nervous. _What’s the worst that could happen?_ I cleared my throat.

 

“You were a warrior in Orzammar, and Sereda Aeducan’s second. Sereda was the middle child of Endrin, King of Orzammar. Sereda had two brothers, Trian and Bhelen. Trian was a self-important idiot who was jealous of Sereda’s popularity. Bhelen always seemed like a nice younger brother. There was a Proving in Sereda’s honour, and then you were supposed to accompany her into the Deep Roads the following day. She was supposed to lead you into Aeducan Thaig to reclaim the Shield of Aeducan.”

 

Gorim started at the mention of the secret, last minute mission they had been assigned.

“Before you left, Bhelen came and told her Trian was plotting to assassinate her. I don’t know if she agreed to kill him first, or whether she decided to wait and see.” I paused, looking at him for a response.

 His face reddened. “She would never attack her brother.”

 “Right. In that case, when you got to the Aeducan Thaig, you were attacked by some mercenaries who had Trian’s ring. And then you found his body. Bhelen had him killed, and brought Endrin and Harrowmont in just in time to see her discover the body. The scouts with you had been bribed or blackmailed, and told the King that you and Sereda killed Trian. You were both arrested. Bhelen had also bribed and blackmailed the Deshyrs into supporting him, and he had a vote brought to exile Sereda to the Deep Roads. Her father didn’t even try to stop it. You were sent to the surface, and she was sent to her death.”

His expression was thoughtful, and I wanted to see what he would say. He waited while Riana cleared plates; Leliana jumped up to help, and I shot her a grateful smile.

 “How do you know?”

 “That’s a long story. I’m not from here – Thedas, I mean. Where I’m from…what happened in Orzammar is common knowledge. As is what happened next. After you left, Bhelen poisoned Endrin, we think. The King had named lord Harrowmont as his successor before he died. Now the assembly is deadlocked between Bhelen and Harrowmont. When we travel there, both of them will try to use the Grey Wardens to support them, eventually forcing us into the Deep Roads to try to find Paragon Branka. I was hoping you could offer some…insight, maybe, or help with navigating the politics. Or a solution to the dilemma, because neither of them will make a good King.” I paused, looking at Gorim curiously. “What isn’t known is how you escaped, and why you ended up here.” _Or at least, I don’t know. Maybe the Aeducan origin would have, but…_

He looked uncomfortable, and I wondered why. After a couple of moments, Riana gave him a nudge, and when he looked at her, a nod. He had a sad smile on his face, and she looked close to tears.

 He sighed. “I was exiled from Orzammar, and escorted to the surface by the guards. Some of Bhelen’s ‘friends’ were waiting for me, and tried to kill me. I escaped, but I was injured in the process. Riana and her father were on the surface trading with Orzammar, and she found me and nursed me back to health. They concealed me in their wagon and got me away, and the next thing I remember, we were halfway here.”

 Wynne asked permission, before examining Gorim; she did something, and some of the tension around his eyes lessened. His eyes widened and his thanks were effusive.

 “It won’t be perfect – it’s been that way for too long – but if you exercise it, it should improve with time.”

 Riana poked Gorim again, irritated now. “That’s not the whole story, Gorim. Now tell the rest.”

 He grimaced at her, but she didn’t back down. He gripped her shoulder and sighed, before turning back.

 “I think I have some information that could be useful to you. Because the truth is, when I left Orzammar I was coming here anyway, to find the Grey Wardens. I believe…Sereda may be alive.”

 


	50. Choose and Lose

Chapter Fifty: Choose and Lose

 My absolutely gobsmacked expression must have amused him, and he snorted. “I know. Sounds impossible, right?”

 Aedan barked a laugh. “No more so than a seer from another world, who happens to be my long-lost sister.”

 Gorim smiled grimly and continued. “She was sent into the Deep Roads. The thing is, Sereda was always fascinated by the Legion.”

 Aedan and Alistair both looked confused, so I clarified. “Legion of the Dead?” When Gorim nodded, I explained. “When someone joins the Legion, they are declared legally dead. They have a funeral, even, and then they go into the Deep Roads to spend the rest of their existence fighting the darkspawn. It’s a way to regain honour for your house if you’ve done something shameful or whatever. They don’t have to be afraid to fight to the death, because they’re already dead.”

 Gorim nodded. “Sereda spent hours in the Shaperate learning everything she could about them. She made a point of being there any time a patrol came back to Orzammar to pepper them with questions. When Endrin saw her interest, he assigned them to her to organise, so she became involved with figuring out their patrol routes, supply stations, and where the next front should be. They reported directly to her. She had copies of all their maps with the new tunnels and cave-ins marked, though she didn’t need them – she had them memorised.”

 I interrupted. “You think she found the Legion and joined them.”

 He nodded. “It’s possible. She could also just be living off their supplies in hiding – she knows where their caches all are, and enough about the Deep Roads to survive. I managed to get the copies of their maps from her room before my exile, and smuggled them out with me. I wanted to come to Denerim, find the Grey Wardens, and convince them to launch an expedition into the Deep Roads to rescue her. I figured I could convince them that she would make a good recruit, and I would volunteer as well. But by the time I got here, the Grey Wardens had all gone to Ostagar, and then…well, you know what happened there.”

 We all winced and nodded, everyone lost in their own thoughts on the subject. Finally he cleared his throat and continued.

 “After that, I lost hope. I couldn’t convince anyone else to go after her, and with all the Wardens dead…I figured I had better make a life for myself, somehow. I owed Riana and her father, and began working for them so he could spend more time smithing and less time selling.”

 Riana reached up to squeeze his hand, but avoided eye-contact with him. “You’re really going into the Deep Roads anyway?”

 I nodded. “We have to go to Bownammar. And there is even a detachment of the Legion near there.”

 She thought for a moment and then asked, “Why do they both make poor Kings?”

 Surprised, I considered. “Bhelen is just too dishonourable. He will be a strong King, and make needed changes in Orzammar, such as letting the casteless work, but he won’t take any criticism from anyone, and he killed his brother, his father, and possibly his sister, to get to the throne. Not the kind of person who I think should be in power. And Harrowmont is the exact opposite in every way. He’s honourable, but he will be a weak King, with not enough support to get anything done. He is against any sort of progress, and let’s face it, the traditional ways aren’t working. The number of dwarves is shrinking every year, and Orzammar is more and more threatened by the darkspawn – things need to change, or dwarves are going to be an endangered species.”

 Riana examined my face critically for a moment, and then stood. She left the room, while we all waited quietly, and after a couple of minutes, she came back. On her return, her arms were full of things. She carried a sword, a large round shield, and a pile of papers. She settled the papers in front of Aedan, and I saw that they were maps. The sword and shield she placed, deliberately, right in front of Gorim.

 “You will need these when you go.”

 We all jumped in surprise. Gorim spoke, almost a shout really. “I’m not going anywhere, Ri.”

 She smiled sadly; reaching out, she lifted his hand and placed the pommel of the sword in it. “You think I don’t hear you cry out for her in your sleep? I love you, Gorim Saelac, enough to know that you need this. You need to know, with total certainty, whether she is alive. The Wardens need you to lead them to her, and to their destination. And Orzammar needs you to find her. I may have been born a surfacer, but that doesn’t mean I want to see an incompetent or an evil King ruling my Ancestors’ city. And I need to know,” she swallowed, face scrunched in pain, “that if I see you again, it’s because you want to be here. I hate that you settled. I’d rather be alone than have you stay out of obligation.”

 He dropped the sword like it bit him, and jumped up, reaching his arms out to her. She held up one hand, and I could see steely determination in her eyes. He saw it too; his shoulders slumped. Revan started to cry, confused by what was going on, and when I reached down he crawled into my arms without hesitation. I cuddled his tiny shaking body to me, watching Gorim wide-eyed.

 Riana stepped up to him, taking his face between her hands. “Go. Find her, save Orzammar, end the blight. And when that is all done, be with her if you can. If she’s…gone, come back. We will be here.”

 I stood, offering the little dwarf to his mother; he wrapped his arms around her neck and cried.

 “Why don’t…why don’t we just go outside, and leave you alone for a bit?” I offered.

 Gorim shot me a grateful look as we all shuffled out; the last thing I saw was him reaching out to pull both of them into his arms.

 We all put on our helmets before going outside, then spent an awkward few minutes standing around silently. Eventually, Wynne and Leliana decided to head back to the Pearl, and Zev and Prince accompanied them. It was after dark, and the thought of two women, armoured or not, wandering through the city alone didn’t sit well with any of us.

 Alistair and I stood, leaning against the wall of the house. Aedan gestured at us to stay, and then took off, fading into the shadows. I exchanged glances with Alistair, and he shrugged; neither of us had any idea what Aedan was up to.

 We waited probably fifteen minutes before Aedan reappeared. But he wasn’t alone; two large, burly men in armour and carrying heavy mauls followed him. He gestured at the house, and one of the men came to stand near us, not saying a word, while the other followed Aedan around back. I looked at the one near me, and realised – he was one of Marjolaine’s goons, one of the ones we let go earlier. Too shocked to do anything but stare, I didn’t even ask him what was going on.

 Aedan came back around the corner, now alone. I tilted my head, but before I got an explanation, the door opened and Gorim stepped out. He was armoured, with his sword and shield strapped firmly to his back. He had a heavy-looking backpack over one shoulder. He looked surprised to see only the three of us plus one mercenary. Aedan finally explained.

 “If I’m going to be taking you away from here, I’m damn well making sure they’re safe. Especially with everything happening in the city right now. These guys owe me a favour. There will be one here and one with Riana any time she leaves the house, at least until this all blows over.”

 Gorim appeared somewhat overcome with emotion, but grateful. I squeezed Aedan’s hand in appreciation. He nodded to the mercenary, and then took the lead, heading us back towards the Pearl. I fell in step beside Gorim, with Alistair following.

 I spoke quietly. “You didn’t have to leave tonight. We will be in Denerim for a few more days…”

 He shook his head. “That would have been worse. Good-byes are hard enough, never mind dragging them out for days.”

 “Good point. Sorry.”

 He shrugged, and I stopped talking. We walked in silence all the way back to the Pearl. Inside, Aedan secured a room for Gorim, and we all headed upstairs. Gorim headed to his own room before we could even offer moral support, and so Alistair and I joined Aedan and Zev for a nightcap.

 We were all still in shock that Gorim was coming with us. I had to blink back tears when I thought too much about how Riana must be coping. None of it was fair. We also discussed the possibility of Sereda being alive. Even assuming she was, I wasn’t sure that she’d be accepted as Queen, but even the possibility was a darn sight better than putting that bastard Bhelen on the throne. I wondered if she had managed to find the Legion, and if Kardol would know once we found Bownammar.

 I slipped into my room and brought the letters that I’d written – to Varric and Nathaniel Howe – to show to Aedan and Zevran. I explained the history of Hawke and the events of DA2, again without mentioning that Anders was the mage to initiate the war. For some reason that I couldn’t explain, I wanted to protect Anders, even from himself; and given that I planned to stop him from merging with Justice, it didn’t seem like it was a secret worth telling.

 Aedan was still upset at the idea of me contacting Nate, but he had calmed since the first time we had discussed it. He agreed to hold off judgement until the Blight was ended, which was all I could ask. I knew it would be fine after that – Aedan wasn’t an ass, and Nate would come to understand what his father had done eventually. Aedan finally, reluctantly agreed that I should attempt to have my letters delivered.

 Alistair and I went to bed, and made love until we both collapsed, exhausted, and slept. I woke once, in the night, when Alistair began having a nightmare; I couldn’t wake him, but I held him as he thrashed and groaned, and kissed his face and whispered comforting words until he seemed to slip into a different sort of dream. He whispered my name in that low, sexy voice he got when he was aroused, and suddenly I could feel him harden against my hip. He rolled me over, pulling my hips up to meet him as he drove himself into me, reaching around to caress my clit until I came, shuddering. I think he truly woke just as he released inside me; the strangled moan sounded less dream-like than he’d been up until that point, and the last sight I had, before I drifted off, was of his face, confused. I think I giggled. And then I slept.

 When I woke in the morning, he was lying beside me, absently stroking my hair and watching my face. I smiled and rolled towards him, and he wrapped his arms around me. I inhaled deeply, smelling sweat and man and sex, and it lit a spark inside me somewhere. _I really am a pervert._ I kissed his shoulder where my face was pressed, and then felt more than heard him hiss as I lightly licked the soft skin. He tasted salty.

 “So, um, love?”

 I hummed in recognition of his question, but didn’t stop my ministrations.

 “I think…I need to ask you something.”

 I hummed again.

 “Last night, did we…in the middle of the night, did we…?”

 I looked up, mischievous grin on my face. “Did we…what?”

 “You know.”

 “I might, but then again, I might not. You need to be more specific, love.” I grazed his shoulder with my teeth, and he sucked in a breath.

 “You are a wicked, wicked woman, you know that?”

 I hummed again, and then chuckled as he finally stammered, “Did we…have…sex?”

 He whispered the last word, and I finally cracked up laughing. Despite his embarrassment, I could feel his erection poking my thigh. _He might claim to be the innocent virgin, but his body’s just as wicked as the next guy._ I looked up again.

 “Well, I’d prefer to call it making love, but we sure did, handsome. And it was…mmm.” I licked my lips, and noticed his gaze focused there. “You don’t remember?”

 “I think I might have been asleep. In fact, you’re a bad person, taking advantage of a fellow while he’s sleeping!”

 His expression was amused, so I wasn’t actually concerned. I pretended to think about his complaint for a minute, then replied.

 “You didn’t seem to mind it when you rolled me over and took me until I screamed your name…”

 He blushed even more, and I giggled. I reached down to brush my fingers against his hard length, and he hissed and pressed into my hand slightly.

 “Want to do it again?”

 When we finally finished, sated and smug and just a bit tired, we cleaned ourselves up in a basin and headed down to the dining room. Everyone else was already there, and had already eaten; I ended up running downstairs to ask Sanga for two more servings. It suddenly occurred to me to wonder when she slept – I had never been down to the main room without her standing there, whether the middle of the night or first thing in the morning. I didn’t ask, and she smiled and nodded when I held up two fingers.

 When I got back to the dining room, poor Alistair was being teased mercilessly for all the noise we’d made during the night. Even Wynne had surfaced from her book to join in.

 Impishly, I sat beside him and grinned. “He hasn’t even told you the best part.”

 Six sets of eyes fixed on me, Alistair’s pleading, Aedan’s mortified, the others curious and amused. I squeezed Alistair’s hand gently.

 “He wasn’t even awake for most of it.”

 They broke out laughing, but I noticed Zevran and even Leliana giving Alistair second looks; I could practically hear the approval rating increase, and I giggled.

 I finally bid good morning to Gorim, who smiled at me somewhat sadly. As Alistair and I ate, Aedan outlined the plan for the day.

 “Alright, we still need a couple of days in town to finish the jobs for the Chanter’s Board and the Irregulars. Master Wade was finished early, but I’d like a bit more coin in our treasury before we leave Denerim.”

 We’d discussed that between Alistair, Aedan, and I, we had about eighty sovereigns; a huge fortune, by Thedas standards, but given that we’d need to outfit an army, eventually, every coin counted. Aedan had been purposefully vague on what exactly they were doing for the money, and it was driving me crazy.

 Aedan continued. “Gorim, you’re free to join us or stay here. You signed on for a specific purpose, but if you want to bash a few heads, you’re certainly welcome.”

 Gorim appeared to consider, finally agreeing to accompany Aedan and the rest.

 “Sierra…” Aedan turned to me, expression carefully blank, but I knew what that meant.

 “You want me to stay here.”

 He came over and took my hand. “We aren’t going to run into many mages, and these aren’t darkspawn. I know what you’re trying to do, and I respect that; really I do. But this isn’t your fight, okay? Please. Stay here.”

 I looked into his eyes, and saw only concern. I knew he didn’t want me doing to myself what the rest had been forced to, killing others even if it was a necessity. I knew he was trying to maintain my innocence. And I was far too relieved to refuse the olive branch. I flushed, feeling ashamed, but finally nodded, a death grip on his hand.

 I gave Leliana ten sovereigns, and my letters, sealed with wax imprinted with the rose pendant Alistair had given me. It wasn’t a signet ring, but it was distinctive, and it would do. She promised to have my letters in the hands of reliable couriers before the end of the day.

 They all geared up, and I was left behind. I decided to go back to bed, catching up on some of the sleep I’d missed over the previous few nights with Alistair. I still envied the Grey Warden stamina. I crawled into the bed we shared, curling up on his side. The pillow smelled like him, and to my surprise I easily drifted off.

 I spent an anxious three days around the Pearl, torn between boredom and fear for my family. They had all apparently agreed not to tell me what they were doing – any objections that I was not that fragile went completely ignored – and even with puppy-dog eyes, Alistair wouldn’t tell me. So I stayed at the Pearl and slept and worried. Every time they came back – exhausted, filthy, sometimes covered in blood – I clung to my brother and my lover, afraid I might never see them again.

 When Aedan announced, that third night, that we were taking one more day to rest and relax, and then leaving Denerim, I was so relieved I jumped up and kissed his cheek. He laughed at me.

 “It’s almost like you miss sleeping on the ground in the cold, little sister. I wouldn’t have thought the bed would be something you’d be so keen to leave behind.”

 I grinned ruefully; truthfully I hadn’t thought about going back to camp, and I wasn’t sure what it would mean for my newfound sex life, but if it meant not having to watch everyone leave me in the morning and fear they wouldn’t come back, I would manage.

 Alistair dragged me off to help him bathe, and then we spent close to an hour soaking, relaxing, and making love in the tub. We were late for dinner, ate quickly, and raced back to our room to pick up where we had left off in the bath, much to everyone’s amusement. The next morning we didn’t come up for air until noon, when Alistair’s Grey Warden appetite finally wouldn’t allow us to wait any longer.

 We spent the afternoon playing cards and relaxing with our friends. I taught them hearts and poker, and they tried to teach me wicked grace, though I remained terrible at it. Alistair was quite good, to my surprise; we played for coppers, and I was soon out but his pile was quite large. _Who knew? The boy can bluff._

The one who really surprised me, though, was Aedan; contrary to the first evening we had spent in Denerim, it seemed he was a card shark. I had expected Zevran to be good, but Aedan was much, much better. I narrowed my eyes as I watched him win hand after hand – how had he been doing so poorly against Isabela? _Did he lose on purpose?_ I shook my head, not sure I wanted to know. It was sort of like his lock-picking ability; it never occurred to me that a noble’s son from Highever should know how to pick locks or play cards, but he made Zev look like an amateur. And he refused to say how he had learned.

 By supper, everyone refused to play any more wicked grace with him, and after our meal we scattered to our own rooms to enjoy one last evening in a bed. The next day we would stop in the market for supplies, and then head out of town to meet up with Morrigan, Sten, Shale, and Dariel. I realised I was out of time, and snagged Aedan and Alistair, dragging them into the room Alistair and I shared to talk about Morrigan. The boys both looked at me curiously as I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to think of how to begin.

 “You know how, when we met, I told you that many of our party had secrets and that I would not share them with the group if they weren’t mine to tell?” They both nodded, so I continued. “I am going to violate that rule, but you both need to promise not to freak out about what I’m going to tell you.”

 They both chuckled over my Earth terminology, and I grinned weakly. “Yeah, yeah. Do you promise?” They nodded again.

 “Alright, so Tomas told you…why it takes a Grey Warden to end the blight, right? And the cost of that?”

 Their smiles fell as they thought about one of them dying to end the Blight. “In the performance, there are only three Grey Wardens. When Riordan warned you about a Grey Warden dying, Morrigan… offered you a solution. A ritual, done on the eve of battle. Blood magic, requiring one of you to have sex with her. She would conceive a child, and when the Archdemon was killed, the untainted soul of the Old God would instead inhabit the unborn child, saving the Warden’s life. Giving Morrigan a baby with the soul – and presumably the power – of an untainted Old God.”

 Alistair and Aedan exchanged glances, both sets of eyebrows furrowed. I couldn’t read their expressions, but they weren’t shouting, so I took it as a good sign. “It’s why Flemeth sent her with us. She wanted the child; I can only guess she wanted to possess it and become more powerful. In the performance, Morrigan took the baby and left Thedas, somehow, through an ancient relic from Arlathan. And Flemeth gets reconstituted, somewhere in the Free Marches, in a year or so.”

 Aedan finally spoke. “And this ritual…worked? We both survived?”

 I nodded. “Alistair became King and you became the Warden Commander of Ferelden. Although, you could choose, in the performance, whether to do the ritual, and if you decided not to, one of you had to die.”

 They were both quiet as they processed. I watched their faces, trying not to fidget. Finally Alistair cleared his throat.

 “Why didn’t you tell us this before? And what made you tell us now?”

 “Before…well, it’s still not really my secret to tell, nor is it my decision to make whether you go through the ritual or not. It seemed best to let Morrigan present it to you in her own time. But now…I don’t know if you guys noticed the way Dariel looked at Morrigan?” They both nodded. “If you recruit him to the Grey Wardens, Morrigan may be able to convince him to perform the ritual with her, and you won’t have any say in the decision. You won’t get to choose.”

 Aedan spoke again. “I don’t even know what I’d choose. Maker, that’s a horrible decision – die horribly, or spawn some sort of…creature, which will have who knows what sort of consequences for Thedas.”

 I nodded. “Exactly. Now, the fact that we will have a few more Wardens around helps, especially since if I were Riordan or Tomas, I’d rather die fighting the Archdemon than have to go on my Calling right after.”

 Aedan shook his head, then stood. “Well, we will keep it in mind as we get closer to a decision with Dariel. If they seem too close... And I think we should talk about it with Tomas, too. We won’t mention it to Morrigan, for now.” Alistair and I nodded. “On that note, I’m going to find myself a soft bed and make good use of it for our last night.”

 Alistair blushed and I laughed; Aedan winked and disappeared into his room. When we made it to our room, we also made excellent use of the bed, but purposefully went to sleep early, for once.


	51. Reunions

Chapter Fifty-One: Reunions

 Gearing up in the morning was somewhat depressing, overall; no more beds, no more clean linens, no more bathing chambers with hot water on demand. And it may have been illusory, but I’d felt safe, relatively, in Denerim, while being back on the road was decidedly…not. _Not that being practically right under Loghain’s nose was particularly risk-free, either, though. Whatever, at least there was a bed._

I sucked it up and pulled on my gear, breastplate now not rubbing awkwardly, repaired bracer finally not leaving me feeling lopsided, and I spent a moment thankful for Wade. The helmet was still going to drive me crazy, but at least it could wait until after breakfast. I helped Alistair gear up – the dragonbone was surprisingly light, compared to his old gear, but still awkward to do alone. It looked snazzy though, and I told him so. He grinned and blushed, as usual.

 Everyone else was stumbling into the dining room with backpacks on just as we were, and we all indulged in one more well-cooked meal before finally donning helmets and setting off. With so few people out and about so early, we made it unmolested to the market district. We had split up the list of things to acquire, and planned to divide into two groups to get everything done quickly. Alistair and I ended up with Leliana accompanying us. For once, I actually carried my own backpack – all of the bags were largely empty since we’d sold our stash of junk, so mine had only my Earth clothes and gadgets.

 The changes to the market district were noticeable immediately as we turned the corner and it came into view. The first was the general lack of mercenaries standing around doing nothing. There were a few small groups of armed men, but they actually appeared to be patrolling, sort of, and were generally better equipped than the ones I’d seen on previous visits. The only other armed or armoured people were alone, and seemed to be actually shopping, or personal guards for those who were. There definitely weren’t any who seemed to be collecting money from their ‘employers’.

 The merchants seemed less jumpy than previously. Some were actually smiling, and none stared at us with the fear we’d seen earlier in the week. Sergeant Kylon was standing at the centre of the busy area, looking around with a satisfied expression, shouting orders to another man, who seemed to be sending runners and relaying orders to those on patrol. It was organised, quiet, and unobtrusive. There were even nobles wandering about shopping; I wondered if one of the pretty doll-like women was Habren Bryland, and if so, whether Zev – or Aedan – would pick her pockets. I grinned at the thought. I wanted to ask Alistair what was going on, but with helmets on and errands to run, I figured it would have to wait.

 Leliana popped into the shoe store and the tailor’s shop where she’d ordered me the gown, coming out with wrapped parcels tucked into her pack. We picked up some spices, some bread and cheese, some clothing changes for everyone – apparently Leli had ordered them a few days prior – and some cookies, for Sten. I stopped at a jewelry stand and bought Morrigan a gold necklace with a tear-drop shaped pendant of what might have been amethyst, and a small collection of beautiful coloured stones for Shale. It was cliché, but if it would help, I was willing. When we met back up with the others, Aedan had picked up some sort of amulet for Dariel, as well as food stuffs, and sharpening stones for our weapons. With packs full of supplies, we finally got ready to leave Denerim.

 The gate was quite busy, with wagons, carriages, and plenty of people on foot, and we all stuck close together to avoid separation. My hand was firmly gripping Alistair’s shoulder, as he took the lead parting the crowds and finding us a path out. Aedan’s hand was on my shoulder in turn, until we were a few dozen yards outside the city, when I heard him mutter something unintelligible and let go. I turned in time to see him spin, dagger drawn and held to the throat of an armoured man in a full helmet, who had evidently been following us. Alistair had half-drawn his sword, I saw the glint of steel in Zevran’s hands, and even Wynne had gripped her ‘walking stick’ in a threatening manner when the figure reached up nonchalantly and pulled off the helmet.

 “I am pleased to see you remain vigilant. I surrender.” He smirked.

 It was almost comical as everyone drew in a sigh of relief at the sight of the dark-skinned, clean-shaven man of obvious Rivaini descent, and then chaos reigned as Alistair tried to hug him, Aedan scolded him for sneaking up on us, and everyone else just put away their weapons.

 After a few minutes of nodding, vaguely, in Aedan’s direction and clapping both Aedan and Alistair on the back in greeting, he finally turned to me and the rest of our party.

 “Tomas.” I smiled, though I knew no one could see it. He hugged me, and I chuckled. “It’s good to see you again.”

 Greetings finally complete, he put his helmet back on and gestured to Aedan. “Mind if I follow you for a while? I’m assuming you have a camp somewhere, perhaps we can talk there?”

 We all headed out, Aedan leading as we turned off the road to cut cross-country towards where Morrigan and the others waited. Before long, we were out of sight of the walls and the road, and we all stowed our helmets. I breathed a sigh of relief; full helms are stuffy. Alistair reached back to take my hand, and I saw Tomas notice it with a small smile. He told us, as we walked, that he had been scouting in the Wilds, but had yet to locate the Archdemon. The horde had been spreading, more slowly than he expected but still quickly enough to cause problems, and was threatening the southern edge of the Bannorn. The Wilds had been virtually swallowed by the Blight.

 We updated him on finding the Dalish and securing their aid, killing Flemeth, and the ambush that brought us Dariel. He was introduced to Gorim, who vaguely recognised him from official Grey Warden visits in Orzammar years before. We didn’t get into the details of why Gorim was with us, deciding to save that for back at camp, so we would only have to tell the story once.

 I was smiling ‘til my cheeks hurt; I was hand-in-hand with the man I loved, spending time with my brother, and my surrogate father, sister, and grandmother. I couldn’t have been happier. I giggled and skipped as I walked, and everyone else’s pleased expressions mirrored my own. We were all energetic, from having a rest the day before, and we made good time.

 About halfway to the campsite, we noticed a suspiciously large bird flying overhead; in moments, Morrigan landed beside us and changed back to human form. It was a fascinating process to watch, as always; she shimmered and stretched, and suddenly there was a scantily-clad woman walking with us. She stepped up beside me, and I released Alistair’s hand to pull her into a hug, which she tolerated impatiently.

 I was surprised when she just kept walking with us; I’d have expected her to change back and wing off, preferring to be alone. When I said as much, she flushed slightly and looked away before replying, quietly enough that no one else could hear.

 “I do not always wish to be alone. I have had enough solitude in the last week, and your company is preferable to that…that…cretin the Warden saddled us with.”

 “Oh, dear, has Dariel been pestering you?”

 “He will not desist! Teach me, talk to me, tell me about your mother… He makes the Warden look positively taciturn. I spent half of the past week alone in a tree, avoiding him. I had not realised what a benefit it was that you knew much about me prior to our first meeting, so I had fewer questions to answer.”

 I chuckled. “I’m not surprised. He looked a bit…smitten, before we left. You can’t blame him – you are a beautiful woman. And probably the only female apostate he’s ever met. Possibly the only woman he ever talked to – all of his mercenary friends were male.”

 She sniffed. “It shows. He has no idea how to talk to a woman. I’d prefer being propositioned by the Crow again to his pathetic attempts at flirting.”

 I choked out laughter as Zevran, his timing impeccable as always, spoke up from behind us, where he’d apparently been listening. “I am certainly happy to oblige, oh beauteous Witch; Aedan has expanded his horizons once, I’m sure I could convince him to try it again…”

 Morrigan looked both intrigued and disgusted, which made me laugh harder.

 “Or perhaps I could just take the little elf under my wing, so to speak, and teach him a few things about how to more productively water a mature flower such as yourself, no?” He reached out as if to put his arm around her shoulders.

 “Touch me again, Assassin, and we shall see whether you remain as effective in a fight with only one hand.”

 The two of them continued bickering, mostly good-naturedly, and I grinned and left them to it. Instead, I elbowed my way in between Aedan and Alistair, who were walking with Tomas.

 “So is one of you going to tell me what the hell that was all about in the Market?”

 Alistair flushed and looked away, while Aedan gave me his best innocent look. “Whatever are you talking about, dear sister?”

 Tomas smirked, so even he was in on the joke, and I was annoyed. “You know damn well. All the mercenaries were gone, and the guards suddenly had patrols? You expect me to believe you had no part in that?”

 Aedan smiled. “I don’t. Alistair told you about the Blackstone Irregulars – we just helped them out a bit. We ‘encouraged’ some of the dumber, meaner mercs to go elsewhere, and the smarter ones we sent to the Irregulars or the guard for recruitment. Which reminds me.” He fumbled in his pack for a moment, and handed me over two coin purses, followed by handing one larger one to Alistair and two more to Tomas. “We should split the coin in case someone gets robbed.”

 I looked into the top of one of the purses – it was filled to the brim with gold sovereigns. I quickly tied it shut again, putting one into my pack and sticking the other behind the little sash I wore as a belt. “Maker’s Breath, Aedan, where did you get that much coin? What did you do?”

 He grinned cheekily. “We might have sort of…assassinated the leaders of the various mercenary groups and stolen their payroll. As encouragement for the mercenaries to find other employment.”

 Tomas looked concerned. “Aedan…”

 “Don’t worry. No one knows it was us – they don’t even know we were in town. We apparently got a reputation – they think it was one person, and they’re calling him the ‘Dark Wolf’. And we tried to give the coin back to the merchants in the market, but we had no way of knowing how much to give to each. We spoke to a few who we thought might be a little more honest, and they all refused to take any coin. They were so happy to have the mercenaries gone, they didn’t even care. So I gave half of it to Sergeant Kylon to hire some guards, and made Kylon promise to keep the mercs out of Denerim. With all the nobility scared, he didn’t have enough man-power to keep the peace. Now he does.”

 I whistled. “This was half of the gold? Wow. Extortion pays well.”

 “Um. About a quarter, honestly. I gave another quarter to Hahren Valendrian for use on supplies to keep the plaque at bay. I can’t help but notice you’re not…yelling at me. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but I thought you’d be angry.”

 “I’m a little miffed that you didn’t just tell me what you were doing. I wouldn’t have wanted to participate, but I’m not so fragile that I can’t stand the truth. I’m not angry you took down those gangs. They deserved their fate, really. And I’m thrilled you managed to get into the Alienage and help out. It’s truly despicable how the elves live there.”

 Aedan stared at me like I had three heads, and then strode off to walk by himself for a while, muttering under his breath. Alistair and I exchanged glances, and I started to giggle. “Good to know I’m not always predictable.”

 “I’m just hoping you aren’t mad at me.” Alistair looked nervous.

 “About not telling me? I’m guessing Aedan made you promise not to. Would you have told me, if he hadn’t?”

 “Maker, yes. I hated lying to you.”

 “Then I’m not mad at you.”

 I went up on my tiptoes to kiss my templar on the cheek, and he responded by wrapping his arms around my waist and swinging me around while I squealed and giggled. He finally put me down, kissing me softly and brushing my hair out of my eyes. “Have I told you lately that I love you? Yes? Well, it won’t kill you to hear it again, will it?”

 Tomas smiled. “So you two managed to work through your…differences?”

 I laughed, disentangling from Alistair. “If you mean we stopped being complete idiots, then yes.”

 He put one gauntleted hand on each of our shoulders. “I’m pleased. You both deserve some happiness." We both blushed, but Alistair took my hand again. "I have to ask, Sierra. I've heard you do it several times, but why do you refer to Aedan as 'brother'?"

 "Oh! I forgot we didn't tell you. Um. So back where we found the Sacred Ashes? We met the...spirit, I guess, of Bryce Cousland. He told me that Aedan and I were twins, but that somehow my soul, or whatever, got born on Earth instead of here. We're not clear what happened to the body that was born here, but the Couslands never told Aedan about me because they didn't want him to think he was competing with a ghost for their affection. We had figured out a long time ago that we had the same birthday."

 He stared at me for a moment, and I wondered if he was looking for a family resemblance. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out for a few humourous moments.

 He finally got his voice working again. "That...explains a few things."

 "Yep. But brings up even more questions. Like how I ended up there, how I'm here now, and whether I can manage to stick around. I made a whole list of questions we can't answer back in Denerim."

 "So...you're a Cousland."

 "Well, sort of, I suppose. Not that anyone will believe it. I have dark hair, but that's where my resemblance to Aedan or Fergus ends. And why would anyone believe the crazy girl is a Cousland they'd never heard of before? I think I'll just stick with Jones, for now. Besides, I earned it."

 Tomas and Alistair both looked confused. Tomas spoke. "Is it some sort of reward?"

 "Nooo. No. Um...well, I told you I was raised as a foster-child?" Alistair nodded; I spent a few moments explaining that to Tomas. "Most foster-kids still have their names. Their parents are known, and they keep the names they were born with. I didn't have a name. The social workers who dealt with me as an infant had to name me. Most baby girls with no name in the system are called Jane; I have no idea how I ended up as Sierra. But if your parents aren't known, they give you the last name Jones. It's supposed to be a common name, but it isn't, not really. And everyone in the foster system knows that if you're a Jones, you were abandoned at birth, that your parents wouldn't even name you. It was a way that the other foster kids could discriminate. 'My parents may be criminals, but at least they wanted me enough to give me a name.' There was a hierarchy, and the Jones' were always at the bottom of it. I didn't care, really, but I made it a point of pride for myself and the other Jones' I ran into. No one could use it to pick on us if we were proud of it, if we refused to be ashamed of it. Now, I'm rather...attached to it, I suppose."

 Alistair kissed my hand, and Tomas patted me on the shoulder again. They obviously didn't know what to say, but that was okay. There was nothing to say. It was part of who I was; I didn't want pity because of it. That they accepted me was enough.

 We made it back to the campsite a few minutes later, and I greeted Shale, Sten, and Dariel enthusiastically. Sten almost smiled at me; I just about fell over in surprise. Dariel was introduced to Tomas, and everyone was introduced to Gorim, and then we settled in to discuss our next moves.

 The plan was still to go to Soldier's Peak and then Orzammar, and Tomas decided to accompany us. He wanted to see the Peak, and he was hoping to get some idea of darkspawn movements from the dwarves. He was very interested when I mentioned that we might actually see the Archdemon in the Deep Roads.

 I mentioned my concerns about Wynne, Leliana, and Morrigan accompanying us into the Deep Roads, and Tomas grimaced. At Alistair and Aedan's confused look, I sighed, sat back, closed my eyes, and tried to remember.

 "First day they come and catch everyone. Second day they beat us, and eat some for meat. Third day the men are all gnawed on again. Fourth day we wait, and fear for our fate. Fifth day they return, and it's another girl's turn. Sixth day her screams we hear in our dreams. Seventh day she grew as in her mouth they spew. Eighth day we hate it as she is violated. Ninth day she grins and devours her kin. Now she does feast, as she's become the beast."

 Tomas spoke. "Broodmother." He glanced around at the group, whose expressions ranged from disgusted to terrified, grimaced again, and continued. "Have you never wondered how darkspawn reproduce? There are no female darkspawn."

 "We will see one in Bownammar."

 Tomas nodded slowly. "They take females. They kill the men, but the women they...change. They become broodmothers. Massive, tentacled creatures that give birth to thousands of darkspawn. Human females give birth to Hurlocks, dwarves to Genlocks. Elves spawn Shrieks, and Qunari produce Ogres. It's supposed to be a secret, but honestly, it's a secret even I don't understand. Everyone should know. No female, of any race, should ever go near the Deep Roads."

 Gorim spoke. "Selfish bastards! They knew, and they didn't tell the dwarves? The Legion takes women! We have to tell them. The Assembly, the Legion."

 "You're not going into the Deep Roads either, Sierra." Aedan looked nauseous.

 I laughed drily. "I don't have much choice, do I? If I don't go with you, I'll just disappear and end up alone somewhere in the Deep Roads. That's not an improvement."

 "But..."

 "I know, Aedan. Not my idea, remember?"

 He sighed, and Alistair gripped my hand harder. Suddenly Gorim spoke up.

 "What do you mean, disappear?"

 We spent a few minutes convincing Dariel and Gorim of my identity; neither of them had heard the full story about me. I didn't think it worked, entirely, though the fact that everyone else, even Shale, now accepted it as fact helped. _They'll believe soon enough - I'll disappear and they won't have much choice._

 They asked some rather intelligent questions. Dariel asked about himself in the 'performance', and I was stumped. It must have been something to do with the butterfly effect of me showing up in Thedas - Loghain got frustrated faster, and ordered a second assassination attempt. I couldn't explain it. And where he would have been if he hadn't met us, I couldn't even guess.

 We finally packed up the camp and headed out onto the main road leading to Soldier's Peak. Talking to Aedan, he explained that the old Warden Base was probably technically in the Arling of Amaranthine, but because of its location on a mountain top and the fact that it belonged to the Wardens, it was not part of a vassalage. That meant it didn't have any way of sustaining itself, and would need to rely on gold from Weisshaupt to buy supplies, since it had no arable land.

 We discussed the plans, both for Avernus and for closing the tears in the Veil. I felt Avernus should be allowed to continue experimenting, just not allowed to use blood magic anymore. Aedan and Alistair were a bit more disgusted, but Tomas was pragmatic about it. He agreed that killing him would be a waste of the research he'd already done, that it would be making all those men's deaths meaningless. I had personal reasons for wanting him alive - I hoped he might know something about how I'd gotten to Thedas, as well as hoping he knew some way to extend the time before a Warden's Calling. He'd managed to put his off for centuries with blood magic; maybe he'd learned a way to duplicate it for those without. In the end, both Aedan and Alistair conceded the point, if reluctantly.

 


	52. Modern Technology

Chapter Fifty-Two: Modern Technology

 We had another two weeks of walking ahead of us before we would arrive at the base of Soldier’s Peak. I wished for a car, or an airplane, for perhaps the millionth time since arriving in Thedas. Even a horse, although I understood from Tomas that you didn’t actually get much further per day on a horse than walking, you just did it with fewer blisters on your feet, and more on your butt, and you could carry more stuff. Horses can sprint well, but when needing endurance, their walking speed apparently isn’t that fast. And in Thedas, only the wealthiest of nobles could even afford them.

 When I mentioned vehicles, everyone was fascinated, and I ended up spending most of the first day trying to explain engines and fuel sources, trucks and trains and helicopters. Sadly engineering wasn’t my area of expertise, and my explanations were weak at best. The skeptical look on the faces of Gorim and Dariel were hilarious; everyone else just looked like they had a headache from trying to imagine it.

 I’d handed the gifts I’d bought for Sten, Shale, and Morrigan to Aedan to give out. Everyone seemed touched when he gave them away, and I smiled.

 I spent some time over the next few days catching up with Morrigan. It didn’t take her long to figure out that Alistair and I had finally ‘done the deed’, and she quietly teased me about it for a bit, which was amusing. I’d never spent much time walking with her – usually she was flying overhead – and I guessed she must have been lonelier than she’d admitted over the last week. In addition, apparently walking with me was a bonus for her because it kept Dariel away; he still wanted nothing to do with me.

 I noticed Wynne walking with Dariel much of the time, and at some point she must have offered to teach him, because they were deep in discussion on the nature of magic. I didn’t understand much, but it seemed that their healing methods were very different, and Wynne was most eager to learn from Dariel as well. I smiled; it was the most animated I’d seen Wynne since she’d joined us. It appeared she was a good teacher. I could see why Irving had wanted her to stay in the Tower after we rescued it from Uldred. And Dariel’s condescending pity towards the older Circle mage was starting to thaw a little, too.

 I walked with Sten and even Shale, for a bit; neither had much interesting to say about the past week, but both seemed happy enough to see me, even if they weren’t big talkers. Gorim had gotten cornered by Bodahn, and was riding the cart, discussing something or other with the merchant. His expression was distant, but tolerant; he hadn’t really opened up to anyone yet, and I wondered if he would. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

 When I walked with Leli, she started pestering me about songs from Earth, and I wracked my brain to think of ones I could teach her that would not only make sense in Thedas but also weren’t embarrassing if she sang them. Almost everything appropriate I could think of was a love song – or perhaps that’s just where my mind was at. I sang her “The Rose”, by Bette Midler, and “River of Dreams” by Billy Joel before Alistair finally joined us, silencing me. I loved Alistair, but I wasn’t about to subject him to my singing this early in the relationship.

 But most of all I walked with Alistair, hand-in-hand, talking about nothing and everything. Sometimes one or another of our companions would join us, other times they left us alone. I felt drunk half the time from giggling until I was breathless; Alistair’s running commentary about what the rest of the group were doing or thinking kept me in hysterics for hours.

 The first night, Alistair and I resolved to be courteous, and not have sex after we went to bed. Lying in the dark with him right there, wanting him, knowing he wanted me, was the hardest thing I think I’d ever done. I slept poorly, and even he wasn’t as cheery in the morning as usual. The next night we decided to just try not to make any noise after we retired to our tent. When we woke to find visible bite marks in his shoulder where I’d tried to silence myself, we decided we needed a better option. Alistair decided to ask Wynne about silencing spells on the third day, so I was skipping along between Aedan and Duncan, walking a few yards ahead of my templar and the mage, when I heard sputtering from behind.

 I turned just in time to see Alistair’s mottled face as he shouted, “Andraste’s Flaming Sword! I know where babies come from!” and then stomp away looking mortified as the entire group cracked up laughing. Wynne was trying to stifle a smug grin, and failed when she caught my eye and I raised one eyebrow in amusement. When I managed to catch my breath, I turned and headed back to where Alistair was now walking, alone, face beet red, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

 When he saw me, he blushed more, and refused to meet my gaze. I took a surreptitious look around – no one was watching us – and then pushed him off the path we followed into a small copse of trees where I proceeded to kiss him senseless. His acute embarrassment forgotten, he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me back, and we lost track of time for a few endless moments.

 “So did Wynne know any helpful spells?”

 “Apparently not. And the rest of her advice was even less useful.” He scowled.

 I struggled not to laugh again. “Would you like me to try? I have an idea.”

 He agreed, and then, holding hands, we proceeded to run out onto the path and hurtle towards the group, who’d left us a ways behind. Red-faced from exertion by the time we caught up, I left him with Aedan and Duncan and approached Bodahn’s cart.

 “Sandal?”

 “Enchantment!”

 I grinned. “Yes! I have a request. Do you know any way to enchant something to block sound?”

 The young dwarf simply stared at me, head cocked slightly, eyes unblinking. Bodahn leaned over to look at me.

 “What are you looking for, my Lady?”

 “I was hoping Sandal knew an enchantment we could put on a tent to block sound. Because, you know, Alistair snores so loudly.”

 The older dwarf grinned at me and winked, making me blush, but he handed the reins to Sandal before reaching behind into the cart, fishing through a small sack. He came out with a tiny stone in his hand, a rune I supposed, and then grabbed one of the rolled up bundles that made up our tents. Turning back to the boy, he took back the reins, handed over the stone, and pointed at the tent material. “Enchantment?” he asked.

 Sandal took the rune, rubbing it between his fingers possessively, then eyed the canvas speculatively. “Enchantment.” He nodded. “Yes.”

 Bodahn stuffed the bundle back behind him on the cart and smiled at me. “I’ll have him work on it when we set up camp tonight, my Lady.”

 I’d given up on trying to talk Bodahn into using my name, and just sighed at the honourific. “Thanks Bodahn. What do I owe you for it?”

 His smile turned smug. “On the house, my lady. In thanks for thinking about the rest of us and silencing the…snoring.”

 I blushed and thanked him, and then slowed down until Alistair caught up with me. As I linked hands with him, I nodded at him quietly and he smiled. That night, Bodahn presented us with a different canvas than we were used to using, winked at me again, and then headed over to climb under the cart with Sandal like he did every night. Deciding to test it out, we set it up a short distance away from everyone, and then I went inside and closed the flap. I shouted, once, at medium volume, and then when no one seemed to react, tried again louder. Crawling back to the flap, I leaned out and looked up at my handsome boyfriend, firelight making his skin glow softly.

 “Anything?”

 “Nope.”

 “Good. Get in here.”

 “Yes ser! Right away ser.” He grinned at me. “Want to see how well it works for other sounds?”

 Giggling, I rolled away from the flap as he ducked in and tried to tackle me; he caught me on the far side when I fetched up against the wall, pulling at straps and ties with desperate haste. It turned out that making love on the ground, in a tent, was quite acceptable after all. And based on the lack of teasing the next morning, the enchantment worked perfectly.

 I hugged the little, simple, dwarven enchanter the next morning, and he blushed and laughed. “Enchantment!”

 On the seventh day out of Denerim, I was walking along, holding Alistair’s hand as Wynne showed me various plants she’d grabbed from around the campsite to demonstrate after I’d almost used something very bad for my health as toilet paper. She showed me how to tell which were safe and which weren’t, and I was trying very hard to memorise the shapes when I became dizzy. I stopped walking, interrupting Wynne mid-sentence, and turned to Alistair.

 “I’ll find you. Keep going, and I promise, whatever it takes, I’ll find you.”

 His face was ashen and I could see his lips moving, I presumed asking me to stay, but I couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in my ears, and finally everything went dark.

 ********

 I woke back in a little hospital room, in a bed that shared space with three others. One of the others contained an elderly woman who appeared to be sleeping, while the other two were unoccupied, though unmade so I assumed my room-mates were out walking somewhere. The sun was shining in through the large window, and it was more than a little warm. Then I looked down and realised part of the reason why – my request had finally been granted. I was wearing clothes – jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket, though no boots – instead of a hospital gown. I smiled happily and sat up, swinging my feet down where I encountered my boots. After a few moments to get them tied on properly, I stood up and stretched, before hearing a shriek.

 I turned to see the woman I’d assumed was sleeping staring at me like she was seeing a ghost. I said hello and smiled reassuringly, which seemed to scare her more – _now the ghost is talking to her, I assume_ – and she shrieked again. A nurse came rushing in, saw me standing, and chuckled before hurrying over to reassure the patient that everything was okay. When she was settled, the nurse came back over to where I stood.

 “They told me you do this. I didn’t really believe them.”

 I laughed. “I get that a lot.”

 “So…how long are you likely to be awake for?”

 “I have no idea. It’s never the same. While I am, though, can I wander around a bit? I want to see if they have something in the hospital gift shop.”

 She nodded, and I rummaged through a nearby locker to find my purse, which had about fifty dollars in the wallet. I grabbed the cash, snagged my iPhone and a cable, and headed out to the elevator. I made it to the gift store and looked around a bit before I found what I was looking for – a portable device charger. They only had two in stock, they were only ten dollars each, and the box said they came fully charged, so I grabbed both, paid for them, and stuck them in a pocket.

 I also picked up a little Ironman figurine for Alistair and bought it as well. I was looking forward to his skeptical look and about a solid day of explanation. The lady in the gift store gave me a strange look when I shoved all that into my pants pockets, but I just shrugged and headed back upstairs.

 I ran into the doctor in the elevator, and he followed me back to my room. We spent a few minutes discussing the usual – no new tubes, nothing medically had changed – and then he paused, looking uncomfortable.

 “I have a question for you. We got all your records from your family doctor, and I noticed the other day that you have an IUD in.” I nodded, and he took a deep breath. “I realised that it’s been four-and-a-half years since you had it inserted. They’re only good for five. I was wondering…what you want us to do about it.”

 I was impressed; given that I was sure he still half-thought I was dreaming while unconscious, he was asking me what I wanted to do for birth control with someone he didn’t believe existed. It was a leap of faith I appreciated greatly.

 I thought about what to do about it for a couple of minutes, mind racing. On the one hand, not having a period in Thedas was really, really nice, but on the other…maybe one day I’d want to have a child there, and it was possible the IUD would prevent that. And given the increasing intervals of time spent there, I couldn’t guarantee that I’d be back on Earth at a convenient time to have it removed. At the same time, no one could predict what would happen if I did get pregnant there, with the whole body-hopping thing I had going on…

 I took a breath and let it out. “Take it out.”

 “In six months, you mean?”

 “No, now. You can apologise to the nurses for me, but I think out is the best idea. We’ll just have to put up with bodily functions.”

 “Well, I can’t do it this instant, but if you’re sure I’ll make arrangements over the next few days.”

 I agreed, and after a few more minutes of small talk, the doctor took his leave.

 Once he left, I still didn’t feel dizzy, so I pulled my laptop out of the locker and plugged in my phone to charge. Then I had an idea; now alone in the room, I booted up Dragon Age: Origins, picked a save where I was in camp with all our companions, and then proceeded to take a video, on my phone, of talking to each of my companions briefly. I avoided the sex scenes and seriously personal discussions, getting just a few seconds of each companion. I even loaded a save from Highever when I’d first met Duncan with my character, and spoke with him as well. Thinking about it again, I also grabbed the discussion between Duncan and Cailan when first arriving at Ostagar.

 Still not dizzy, I spent a few minutes going through the songs on my phone and removing ones I thought really wouldn’t go over well in Thedas. I couldn’t wait to play some music for Leli – the expression on her face would be well worth the money to ensure the battery lasted long enough. And everyone was going to be amazed by the phone itself. I grinned to myself as I tucked the now fully-charged phone into my pocket alongside the battery chargers and figurine. I shut down the laptop, put it away, and picked at my questionable hospital-food lunch, before laying back, fully dressed, to have a nap.

 ********

 I woke to darkness, broken only by the soft light of a nearly burnt-out firepit. The first thing I did was check my pockets, and I confirmed that my phone and the chargers had made it to Thedas. I rolled over to see Tomas sitting on a nearby stump, watching me with a smile. I grinned and sat up, and he handed me a water skin. I realised I actually disliked the water from Earth now – I was so used to fresh stream water that the chemical taste of chlorine made water almost undrinkable. I’d run out of water purification tablets months before, and hadn’t been sick from the water yet.

 “I’m glad you decided to give Alistair a chance. I was worried, after I spoke to you in Redcliffe about what happened.”

 I smiled. “I’m glad too. He’s…amazing. Much more than even I expected. And I can forgive jealousy. It’s actually sort of sweet, when you look past the whole prostitution inference.”

 He laughed. “Just look past it, you say? Seems like no mean feat. But I think you’ll be good for him. Actually, you’ll be good for each other.”

 I warned him about a surprise from my world for the next morning, and then decided to crawl in to the tent I shared with Alistair and demonstrate my level of appreciation for him. He was thrilled to see me, once the initial panic of being woken wore off, and he held me tightly in his lap for a few minutes, just relieved I was back. When he made love to me, he was tender and reverent, and we spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms.

 I was practically bouncing with excitement in the morning, waiting to show everyone my surprise _. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier._ I waited impatiently until everyone was at the fire for breakfast before pulling out the phone. Alistair watched curiously over my shoulder as I turned it on, and gasped when the lock screen popped up. I had a photo of a tropical beach on it, and he took the phone, staring at it in amazement. He jumped when it timed out and turned itself off, and dropped it like it was on fire.

 I giggled and picked it up, thankful for the impact-proof case I always kept it in. I entered my lock code and promptly picked a song from my library, turning up the volume as far as it would go. The look on Leliana’s face when one of the Vonda Shepard songs I’d taught her came on was priceless, and I lifted the phone and snapped a picture before it changed. She blinked and squawked as the flash went off, and I laughed even harder. Switching over to the photo app, I showed her the lifelike image of herself looking astonished. That led to everyone demanding to have their picture taken, and then wanting to be taught how to take pictures. I was amused at the mental image of getting my phone back to Earth and showing off my photos of Alistair, Leliana, and the rest, but knew I’d never do it – even if I could – in case it harmed my chances of coming back somehow. Or ended me in the psych ward.

 If I’d thought that photos amazed them, the videos were an even bigger show-stopper. They all danced and wiggled and goofed around as one or another took video after video. I finally had to put a stop to it fearing my memory would fill up or my battery wear out prematurely. I could see a hungry look on Leli’s face when I told them we had limited power; I knew she’d be begging to listen to music and commit as much as possible to memory before long.

 


	53. Adverse Effects

Chapter Fifty-Three: Adverse Effects

Tomas finally called a halt to the revelry and insisted we get moving towards Soldier’s Peak. I showed Leli how to use the music app and gave her free reign to pick songs to listen to while we walked. Everyone stuck close, wanting to listen to the strange sounds coming from the speakers, and even for me it was nice to have even temporary easy access to music I’d grown up with. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed it. The day passed quickly, and enjoyably. The group were quite scandalised when they heard the lyrics to some of the songs, but I noticed Zevran watching me, expression unreadable, and I winked at him. He laughed. Alistair remained sort of pink-faced throughout most of it.

 Dariel and Gorim asked me more questions about Earth, which I answered openly for the most part, and how I got to Ferelden, for which I had no answers. At least they seemed to believe me, though I supposed that disappearing into thin air and returning with an iPhone helped my case. I pondered whether the outrageous alternate universe theories that had been exploited in so many science fiction novels were truly that outrageous. Maybe there were hundreds, thousands of universes, and sometimes, some way, it was possible to travel between them. I mean, there was more than one origin in the game – maybe there were other universes out there where Aedan had died and a different person became the Warden. If David Gaider somehow had access to all of them, that could be why there were multiple origins…

 I was interrupted in my musing when the music stopped; Leliana jumped, though managed not to drop the phone, and handed it over to me quickly in fear that she’d broken it. I realised the battery was dead – we’d been walking, listening to music, for probably eight hours. After all the video taking in the morning, I wasn’t surprised. I plugged the thing into one of my two chargers and slipped it back into my pocket. It occurred to me to look into solar chargers when I went back to Earth next. Tomas wanted to walk about another hour before setting up camp; Bodahn, miraculously as usual, knew the location of yet another hot spring along our path, so we decided to push through until we could make it.

 After supper, we took turns as usual using the hotspring. The guys had won the right to go first (teaching them rock-paper-scissors had been hilarious), so when they were done, the women wandered down and spent a good half hour relaxing. I had been managing to ignore it, most of the time, but I ached after a full day of walking. When the rest of the women went back to camp, I decided to stay and soak a little longer.

 The water was heavenly, and it only got better when Alistair quietly slipped in beside me. We soaked and cuddled together for a while, until he became impatient and pushed me up onto the bank. He took his time exploring my body, and when he finally took me, I was so over-stimulated that I was sure they could hear my shout all the way to Denerim.

 We cleaned up, again, and finally headed back to camp. Almost everyone had gone to their tents already, but Zev and Shale were talking together quietly when we approached. Zev spent a few minutes teasing us about our vocal performance; Shale was totally disgusted, which I’m sure was why he did it. Blushing, Alistair and I ducked into our tent and promptly fell asleep.

 In the morning, I tucked the Iron Man figurine into Alistair’s bedroll. I’d realised I had forgotten to give it to him, and I wanted to do it when we had time to talk, so bedtime seemed to make sense. At breakfast, I decided to show everyone the videos I’d made of the computer game. I sat in the middle, with everyone taking turns crowding around me, as I showed my character talking to one after the other of my companions. Everyone was completely amazed at seeing themselves on the little screen and hearing their own voices come out of the speakers. It was fun to watch. The ones I didn’t have video of – Dariel, Gorim, and Aedan, for obvious reasons – just laughed with me at the looks on everyone else’s face.

 We got packed up, but as we walked my phone got passed around from one to the next as they watched the little video. Finally after watching it for about the third time, Aedan approached me, where I walked hand-in-hand with Alistair, chatting with Tomas.

 “So…why exactly don’t you have a picture of me? And who is this woman who’s talking to everyone?”

 I glanced over at where he was pointing and froze. _Oh crap._ I had taken the video of my Cousland interacting with everyone. My _female_ Cousland. I had never planned on explaining the multiple origins in game. I’d never planned to admit it was a game. It was hard to explain, and I worried about the reaction if they learned that people on Earth thought of their lives as a game. I took a deep breath, mind racing, and Alistair leaned down to speak quietly.

 “Are you okay? You’re looking rather pale.”

 I stuttered and finally tried to explain.

 “I…in the performance, I think to try to expand their audience, they allowed the person viewing it to…choose the appearance of the character they were inhabiting.”

 “Why would that expand their audience?” Leliana had joined us, bringing Morrigan with her.

 “Well, I suspect that, for example, women who were watching would feel more comfortable if they were looking through the eyes of a woman, instead of through Aedan’s.”

 There was a stunned silence, and I looked down, afraid to see everyone’s reactions. Aedan barked out a laugh. “So that woman…is supposed to be me?”

 I looked up, noting Zevran’s amused grin and Aedan’s incredulous stare. “Uh, yeah, well, sort of. I suppose.” I took another breath. _Busted; I might as well tell them everything now, before I get caught in a half-truth again._ “But you could actually choose to be an elf, or a dwarf, or a mage too. The overall story didn’t change, but the first few minutes you were somewhere other than Highever. The theory went that Dun…Tomas could have gone anywhere looking for a recruit, not just Highever. He could have gone to the Circle Tower and chosen Solona or an elven mage, to Orzammar and chosen Sereda or another dwarf, to the Brecilian Forest and picked a Dalish elf, or to Denerim and gotten an elf from the Alienage. And any of those options could have been male or female.”

 I finally got the reaction I’d been expecting. Aedan started shouting. “What sort of sick performance was this? So in some of these, what – I didn’t survive? I died in Highever with my parents?”

 “I don’t…know. Probably. They never gave any details about any of the other origins once you’d chosen one. There were hints – you’d see a dead dwarf in a Carta dungeon in Orzammar, and if you’d ever tried being a dwarf you’d know that that was where one of the origins died, since Tomas hadn’t been there to rescue him – that sort of thing. But if you were an elf, for example, they just never mentioned the Couslands in detail. They showed Howe gloating over being Teyrn, but didn’t explain exactly why.”

 I tried to explain my multiple alternate universe theory, where perhaps somehow David Gaider could see into many alternate realities, and not just this one, but also one where an elf or dwarf was chosen as the Warden recruit. Aedan’s face was red, angry, and I wasn’t surprised when he growled and stormed off. Zev gave me a sympathetic look and then hurried off to follow him; Tomas stopped walking, looking around, and finally sighed and sat down, right in the middle of the road.

 “We might as well have lunch here.”

 Everyone else settled nearby and pulled out rations; Bodahn and Sandal kept going in the cart, knowing we could easily catch up. Leliana tried to force out a conversation to cover the awkward silence, but everyone was too deep in thought to easily keep it up. Alistair hadn’t said a word since I’d explained, and barely ate; I watched him, concerned, but he didn’t even seem to notice me staring.

 After maybe a half hour had passed, Aedan reappeared with Zev in tow. He didn’t look at me, just growled out a demand for the group to get moving. He deliberately started walking at a quick pace, ahead of everyone else. I snuck a glance at Zev, and he shook his head slightly, obviously not thinking I should try to discuss it with Aedan yet. Before I had a chance to think much more about it, Alistair brushed past me and joined Aedan, and the two men walked silently together, Zevran trailing behind. I stared at Alistair’s back in shock – never had he been less than courteous to me, even before we’d been in a relationship. I didn’t know what to think.

 Morrigan had changed into bird form and taken off, Sten and Shale were already following Aedan, and Wynne followed them with Dariel. Leliana, Gorim, and Tomas were left, looking from me to Aedan and Alistair and back again, expressions worried. Mine must have looked miserable; Leliana took one of my hands, Duncan put his hand on my shoulder, and we followed at the back.

 I was upset, torn between feeling guilty and confused. _Maybe I should have told them the whole story to begin with, but what could have happened in an alternate universe shouldn’t have mattered._ This was the universe we had to deal with, and we couldn’t go back even if we wanted to, so why did it matter?

 I hadn’t noticed who’d ended up with my iPhone, and I didn’t particularly care at that moment. I walked sadly, head down, barely even paying attention to the road, while Leliana pulled me on by the hand. No one spoke; the usual amusing party banter was conspicuously absent, and the quiet was unnerving. Clearly neither Tomas nor Leli were angry with me, and I wasn’t even certain that everyone else had heard, but I wasn’t sure what would happen with Aedan, and apparently Alistair was also upset, for some reason he’d yet to explain. _Just what we need: drama_.

 It seemed the few days of happiness I’d had were too good to last.

 I decided, after another hour of feeling sorry for myself, that I was going to try to tackle what was happening head on. This was my family, and they had to forgive me eventually, didn’t they? I squeezed Leliana’s hand, raised my chin, and sped up slightly to catch up with Aedan and Alistair. I heard steps behind me, and realised that Tomas and Leliana were coming too, and it steeled my resolve.

 Zevran halted me before I could catch them. “So, bella donna, now I know why you could not predict relationships, yes? Too many variables.”

 I heard Alistair snort ahead of me, and I flinched at the bitterness I could hear in the sound. “Sort of. I mean, I can’t see you discriminating against an elf or a dwarf, or a woman for that matter, so if Aedan had the same temperament, you’d still be willing to be with him, wouldn’t you? Would his height or his plumbing really matter?”

 “Plumbing?”

 “Uh…slang for, uh, parts. You know, genitals.”

 He looked thoughtful, and I watched his gaze switch back to Aedan before a little smirk appeared.

 I laughed. “Right, well, I know what you’ll be fantasizing about later.”

 He laughed, and I saw Aedan’s shoulders twitch in what I took to be amusement. Zev reached out and patted me on the shoulder, then pushed me gently towards Aedan and Alistair who were a handful of steps ahead of us.

 I stepped in between the two men, reaching up automatically to take Alistair’s hand. He grasped it for a moment, and then to my complete shock, dropped it like a hot potato. I stumbled slightly, but caught myself before I fell. I cleared my throat, and my voice cracked as I spoke.

 “So, you’re angry with me for not telling you. Can we talk about it?”

 Aedan sighed. “I’m not angry. I’m sorry for stomping off. It’s just rather disconcerting to find out that it was only an accident, a trick of fate, that I exist. What if you’d ended up in one of those other – what did you call them? Alternate universes? I’d just be dead.”

 “And I wouldn’t have a brother. But I didn’t end up somewhere else. I ended up here. And it didn’t seem important to explain the possibilities of what might have been, once I was already here. It was confusing enough trying to explain who I was and where I came from. I wasn’t keeping anything from you maliciously.”

 He finally looked down at me and smiled. “I know. I’m not angry.” He stopped and hugged me to him, and I returned the embrace enthusiastically. “Is there anything else you didn’t tell me?”

 I bit my lip and thought about it. “I…not on purpose. Um. Well, I suppose one thing is the alternatives to making Alistair king after Cailan’s death.”

 “Oh?”

 “Yeah, well, if he didn’t want to be, and you chose not to force him, one option would have been for you to marry Anora and become King-Consort.”

 He choked and laughed at the same time, a frightening sounding gurgle the only sound that escaped. I worried I’d have to give him the Heimlich or something, but he started to cough and finally caught his breath.

 “Maker’s Breath! That would have been terrible! What a nasty thing to do to a fellow. You might not know it, but I’ve met the Ice Queen. No thank you!”

 I giggled, and we started walking again. “But you would be so cute together!”

 He squawked and grabbed me around the shoulder with one arm, messing up my hair with the other hand. “You take that back!”

 We laughed a bit more, but as I looked forward, my heart sank. When Aedan had slowed to embrace me, Alistair had kept walking, and was now a dozen steps ahead of me again. My shoulders slumped. I looked over at Aedan, and when he saw where I’d been focused, he shook his head and shrugged slightly. _Well, at least I’m not the only one in the dark._

 Taking another deep breath, I squared my shoulders and hurried forward once again. I purposefully avoided reaching for his hand, though it left an ache in my chest to do that.

 “Alistair?”

 He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at me; didn’t respond in any way.

 “Please? Tell me what’s wrong.” My voice was pleading.

 He looked down at me, for the briefest of moments, and I couldn’t read the look in his eyes, but it wasn’t good. He finally held out one hand, and I saw he held my iPhone. I took it, tucking it into my pack absently.

 “So in this…performance. Wait, what is it called, anyway? I never thought to ask.”

 “Dragon Age.”

 He looked confused. “No, I mean…you talked earlier about photographs and moves and things. Is there a name for this type of entertainment?”

 “Moves? Oh, movies. Never mind. Um, yeah, they call it a-” I gulped, trying to decide, but again decided I should just come clean rather than have another dramatic reveal later and have him angry at me again, “video game.” I sighed, knowing what he was going to say next.

 “A game? How lovely for them, for you, to make a game out of our lives.”

 “Alistair, I-“

 He cut me off. “It doesn’t matter. In this game, then, you – the other Grey Warden – could be a variety of different people.”

 “Yes.”

 “And those people…had relationships?”

 “Some of them. You could try, at least. If I made decisions that a companion agreed with, then they would like me more, and then if they liked me enough and I flirted with them…”

 “So, if you were a woman, you could have a relationship with who? Zevran?”

 “Yes.”

 “Leliana?”

 “Yes.”

 “Morrigan? Sten? Shale?”

 “No! Maker, no.”

 His next word was so quiet I’d have missed it if I hadn’t been expecting it, by then. “Me?”

 I replied equally quietly. “Yes.”

 “That’s how you knew so many details. About me. Who I was, what I was. A templar. A virgin. A confused, childish idiot with – what did you call them? Daddy issues. A fool. I wondered how Aedan would have known so many details, but didn’t think about it too hard. Now I know – I’d have told you if we were in a relationship.”

 “No! Well, yes, I knew things about you, but I’ve never thought you were a fool, Alistair. And you have far fewer daddy issues than I think you have a right to. And you really would have told Aedan all the stuff you told me, if he’d asked.”

 “But you knew everything. You knew what to say to make me like you.”

 “I-“

 He cut me off again. “Right.” He ran his gauntleted hand through his short hair irritably. “Look, I just…I don’t want to talk right now. I’m going to go walk by myself. Just…just leave me alone, for a while, okay?”

 Before I could respond, he jogged forward, putting enough distance between us that I would have to yell for him to hear me. I let my breath out in a shaky sigh, shoulders slumping again. I felt a presence at my side, and looked over to see Tomas smiling sadly at me. I looked away; if I saw any pity in his eyes, I was going to break down and cry, and I still wasn’t entirely sure why.

 “Are you alright?”

 “No. I don’t know. You don’t seem surprised by any of this.”

 “I’m not, entirely.”

 I risked a glance, and the sad smile had turned into a wry one. “You knew? You did! How did you know?”

 “I didn’t, exactly, but…I knew something. You had to ask the name of the ‘new Grey Warden’ when we first met. So obviously there was more than one possibility as to who it could have been. And you were very careful to avoid gender pronouns. Besides, when you told me what you knew about Alistair, I figured that if you’d only ever seen his friendly side, you might not be so…enthusiastic. And since I know he is only interested in women…”

 “You figured I must have gotten to know him as a woman.”

 He nodded. “The details didn’t really matter, because we had to go forward with the situation as it was, not as it might have been. But I had considered going places other than Highever when I was recruiting. Had I had time, I would have gone to all of the places you mentioned, and even a few you didn’t. But as it turned out, the horde wouldn’t wait. Cailan wouldn’t wait. So I was going to recruit Ser Gilmore and head to Ostagar, but then…well, you know.”

 “I’m sorry. I suppose I should have told you.”

 “It might have been a good idea, yes. However, you were right – it doesn’t matter what might have been. Aedan could have been someone else, but he wasn’t. I’m not unhappy at the way it turned out.”

 Aedan cleared his throat behind me. “Neither am I.” He reached forward and took my hand, and I clung to it a little harder than I would have liked.

 I shot a glance at Alistair’s back. “Do you think he will forgive me?”

 “I’m not even sure what he’s upset about, actually.”

 “Me either. It seems to be something to do with the fact that I had foreknowledge of his preferences. I’m not entirely clear why that would matter, but…. Well, anyway, he asked to be left alone.”

 Duncan put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Give him some time. He’ll come around.”


	54. About Face

Chapter Fifty-Four: About Face

 The rest of the afternoon was a nightmare. Somehow, the blow to my happiness had also been a blow to my stamina, and I felt bone tired despite adequate rest. I kept up with the group, but it wasn’t an easy thing. I didn’t talk, didn’t look around, just put everything I had into putting one foot in front of the other. Tomas, Leli, Aedan, and even Morrigan had tried to bring me out of my shell, but I just didn’t have the energy to respond. I stowed my gear on Bodahn’s cart; usually I carried it, trying to build up my strength, but it just wasn’t worth it.

 Leliana had borrowed my phone again, and was listening to music; every sad song that played brought tears to my eyes, and given how lonely I’d been before coming to Thedas, I had a lot of sad songs on my playlist.

 When it was time to make camp, instead of setting up our tent as usual, Alistair approached me, expression unreadable, and asked to talk to me. We went off a little ways, close enough to hear shouting in case we got into trouble, but far enough to have a bit of privacy. I sat on a fallen log, worrying; Alistair paced in front of me, which I didn’t see as a good sign. I waited for him to start, but as time passed and he just kept pacing, I finally got antsy.

 “Love? Please sit down and talk to me. Please.”

 He flinched, and stopped pacing, but he didn’t sit. Finally he spoke.

 “You knew what it would take to make me like you.”

 “I don’t understand, Alistair. What does that mean? I knew that you were a good person with a strong moral compass and that you wouldn’t agree with doing things that were evil…what does that have to do with anything? I haven’t even been the one making the decisions. I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

 He knelt down in from of me, putting us at the same eye-level, his movements jerky and almost violent. I was startled, briefly, but then immediately felt silly. This was Alistair. _He’d never hurt me._

 “In the game, if the Warden was male, who did I have a relationship with?”

 “What? No one. It didn’t show you with anyone, unless I forced you to marry Anora. Not even months after the blight ended.”

 “And just how am I supposed to know that?”

 “I don’t even know how to take that. I’d normally say ‘trust me’, but I’m guessing that’s what this is all about.”

 “How am I supposed to trust you? You knew what would work on me, get me to want to be with you. You manipulated my feelings. Said the right things at the right time to ensure I was interested in you. Who was I supposed to be with? Who was I supposed to fall in love with? You changed things when you came here. How do I believe that one of those things wasn’t making me love you?”

 I was utterly and completely shocked. I couldn’t even speak. My mouth opened and closed a number of times like a fish while I scrambled to figure out how to use my voice again, never mind actually figure out what I was going to say. He thought I used my knowledge from a previous – fake – relationship to ensure he’d fall for me. I hoped he was joking, but one look at his scowling face and I knew he wasn’t.

 I tried to be reasonable. _He’s shocked, he’s upset…he doesn’t know what he’s saying. I hope._ “Alistair, why would I do that?” I reached up to touch his handsome face, and he pulled away with a sneer. I couldn’t keep the hurt out of my voice. “You’re right in that I wanted you to love me, but it was because I loved you. What possible ulterior motive could I have? I don’t understand.”

 “I don’t know. I just don’t. Maybe you just wanted to not be alone. Maybe you thought I’d be a good protector. Maybe you thought I was gullible enough not to question it, and there’s something else you’re looking for. You said yourself that I’m heir to the throne, now. Who knows what you might be after?”

 “What? Think, man! If I was only with you to get access to the monarch of Ferelden, why would I have saved Cailan? And if I did, why wouldn’t I just have taken him up on his offer? He’d have made me his mistress, and if I’m as good a manipulator as that, I could have become his wife, don’t you think? Especially with all I know about Anora. And I don’t need a protector, thank you. I think I can manage quite fine on my own – you’re the one everyone is trying to kill. If I stayed away from you, I wouldn’t be in any danger. And if I did need protecting, I have a brother who is more than willing to oblige. I tried to avoid you – Maker knows I tried – would I have done that if I was trying to get close to you?”

 “Playing hard to get, maybe? A strategy you knew would work from your Maker-forsaken game?”

 My voice cracked in despair. “Do you really think me capable of that? Of violating your trust, abusing your affection for some sick personal gain? Am I really such a monster?”

 He stood, turning away from me. “I don’t know. Are you?” He looked back for one moment, and the disgust written all over his face was agonising. The expression burned itself into my brain, and I sobbed, once, in abject misery.

 He walked away, and I felt my heart rip to pieces as I watched him go. _Did he ever really love me? Someone who loved me wouldn’t believe me capable of that, would they?_

 I broke down sobbing, dropping my face into my hands. When I thought of the way he looked at me, the way he avoided my touch…I realised that whatever I thought I’d had, I was mistaken. I’d given my heart, my soul, and my body to him, and he just walked away. I felt violated, dirty. Even though I was sure I hadn’t done anything wrong, I was ashamed. I spent a few minutes thinking back over our interactions since the time we’d met, trying to decide if I’d ever used game knowledge to manipulate him. I had used some of the lines from the game, but they were the ones that resonated most strongly with me, it hadn’t been calculated. Half of them had been his, because I loved his sense of humour.

 I’d tried so hard to stay away from him. I hadn’t hoped for the future, hadn’t even considered it, until he showed me what might have been, and then ripped it away. I’d never missed hope, because I hadn’t known I was missing it; now it left a gaping void in my soul. I’d heard the term ‘sucking chest wound’ before, back on Earth; I had no idea what it meant, really, but the description matched the pain in my chest as I sat there, sobbing, watching all of the sandcastles I’d built out of hope crumble.

 I cried myself out, until my throat was raw and my sleeves soaked with tears. Finally I leaned back, trying to draw a deeper breath through my ragged lungs, attempting to pull myself back together. Regardless of what happened with Alistair and me, we had to work together to end the blight. I wasn’t going to leave my brother, or doom Ferelden out of spite; I had to manage this until the Archdemon was dead. And then I could give my notes on the events of Awakenings and DA2 to whoever survived, and go away. Find somewhere to hide, and live out the rest of my life. Aedan would help me, I was sure, or perhaps I could go with Leliana and travel.

 I started to rationalise it to myself. This was probably better. Wynne wasn’t wrong in thinking love was a distraction. And I’d been right when I thought that Alistair would need a noblewoman to try to have babies with, as heir to the throne. He couldn’t be tied to some crazy non-Fereldan. We’d both been fooling ourselves to think that we ever had a chance. It was better that we came to terms with that now, and avoided any future problems.

 The thought didn’t stop the trickle of tears from resuming. “This is better,” I muttered to myself under my breath. If I said it enough, maybe I would believe it, eventually.

 I heard a rustling, and I jumped up, alarmed, as I saw a flash of grey fur through the trees. I unsheathed my daggers and was about to scream for help when an enormous grey wolf with amber eyes approached me. I sighed in relief and flopped back down onto the log.

 “Hello, Morrigan.”

 Another rustle, and in place of the wolf was the beautiful witch. She smiled at me, but instead of the smirk I expected, it was surprisingly sympathetic.

 “Hello, Sierra.” She sat down nearby, watching my face curiously.

 I wiped away the tears making tracks on my cheeks. “I suppose you heard all of that, then?” She nodded, wincing. “Wonderful. Listen, if you could not tell everyone all the details, I’d be grateful. We need to still be able to work together, and I don’t think that will be possible if Aedan kills him.”

 “I will not tell anyone, Sierra. I knew he was an imbecile, but I never dreamed he would do something this stupid.”

 I looked down. “It’s better this way. I realise that now.”

 Her tone was puzzled. “Better for who? For you, who is sitting there with your bleeding heart on display? For him, who has just walked away from the only good thing he ever had? I am not exactly a romantic, but even I could see how much you needed each other. For what it is worth, I am truly sorry, my friend.”

 I sighed. “Thanks. Listen, I think I might like to be alone for a while. Would you do me a favour, and make sure Aedan and everyone stays away? Tell them not to wait up for me. I just need to think.”

 “As you wish.” She stood, brushing off her skirt and taking a couple of steps. “If you wish to talk, I will be nearby.”

 “Thanks, Morrigan.”

 She shifted into the wolf again, giving me a mournful look before loping off into the woods. I sat, alone, trying not to think, letting the tears come, and mourning my happy ending. I stayed there until it was dark, finally heading back to camp because I was cold. I’d taken off the rose pendant Alistair had given me, playing with it absentmindedly; I resolved to give it back to him. Perhaps he could sell it, get his money back. I held it in my palm, the chain curled around the silver shape, and entered camp. Everyone had gone to bed, it seemed; Shale was on the far side, ever watchful, and she nodded at me, but no one else was out.

 And then I saw it. The tent. _Our_ tent. Only it wasn’t; Alistair had left the pile of enchanted canvas where it must have fallen when it was taken off Bodahn’s cart, and with some spare canvas, had instead erected a small, single-person tent a ways away from everyone else. I could tell it was his – the way he put up a tent, his always canted towards the door a little. He hadn’t done me the courtesy of putting up a tent for me, and no one else had apparently noticed. I had nowhere to sleep. It hadn’t even occurred to me, with everything else I’d been thinking about, to wonder what the sleeping arrangements would be. I’d known it was over between us, but that small tent, to make it obvious I wasn’t welcome, was like a knife in the gut.

 I tried to stifle it, but knew a small cry escaped from my lips. I took one step towards the canvas I could use to make my own tent, but my knees gave out and I sank down by the fire. I heard a fluttering and saw Morrigan land in front of me, shifting from bird form as she did, and she knelt down in front of me. I reached out to hand her the necklace I carried, hoping she would understand what to do with it; I couldn’t explain it, as the world started spinning and I finally passed out.

 *********

 I woke with a start; someone was stroking my cheek, wiping away my tears. I opened one eye with a groan to find myself in hospital, a young nurse sitting beside me and trying to wash my face. She jumped a little when I moved, but then smiled at me.

 “I didn’t expect you to wake up. I was just about to bathe you, but there were tears streaming down your face and I didn’t know what to do.”

 I sat up and rubbed at my cheeks irritably, brushing away the drops of moisture. I was covered with towels to protect my modesty, but little else; fortunately the curtains around my bed had been closed. “Sorry.”

 I tried to say more, but my emotions overwhelmed me and I broke out sobbing again. I pulled my legs up, putting my face on my knees, and bawled. Shocked, the nurse sat beside me and awkwardly patted my shoulder, probably assuming I’d lost my mind. I was cold, overwrought, and exhausted. I was finally too tired to cry, and completely embarrassed about losing it in front of this complete stranger.

 “Would you like to talk about it?”

 “No. Really, really not.”

 I looked around and saw basins of soapy water, cloths, and towels, and sighed.

 “If you find me a gown and point me at a shower, I’ll save you the trouble.” I gestured vaguely at the washcloth she held.

 “Sounds good. Be right back.”

 She hurried off to find me a gown, and I got up and found my bag of toiletries. When she returned, I wrapped the gown around myself, holding the back shut with one hand, and followed her to the shower. The hot water beating down on me felt good, and I sat in there for a good hour, thankful for the hospital-sized hot water tank.

 I found clean clothes waiting for me when I got out, and dressed quickly. I wondered who’d been doing my laundry. When I asked, the nurse told me that my guardian had arranged twice-monthly laundry services once she’d heard that I was insistent on being dressed in clothes, not hospital gowns. I smiled; I hadn’t liked the woman, but she at least took her job seriously. I went back to my room, laid down fully dressed, and fell asleep.

 I dreamt about death and destruction, about dragons and demons, but most of all I had nightmares about the look of disgust Alistair had given me when I tried to touch him. I was shaken awake by another nurse; apparently I’d been crying, noisily, in my sleep. It was late – I’d apparently slept away most of a day – and I knew I wouldn’t fall back asleep after those nightmares. I rubbed at my eyes, gritty from too much crying, and then sighed. The nurse asked if I wanted to talk about it, and I declined again. _Just what I need – spill my guts to a nurse about Thedas, and next time wake up in the psych ward._

 I asked if there was somewhere I could go and just sit, somewhere private; she told me about a solarium at the end of the hall that was likely empty at that time of night. It turned out to indeed be empty, and actually had a fairly nice view of downtown. I looked up, and it was strange; I had grown up in the city, rarely seeing more than a handful of stars, but even though the constellations were different, I missed starlight. I missed lying around a campfire with my brother, cuddling with the man I loved, watching the skies.

 I shook myself and looked away; it was unlikely I’d be cuddling with anyone any time soon. Especially not the man I loved. And I did still love him; it was too soon for my feelings to have changed, but the more I thought about it the more I was convinced that he had never really known me. He loved the idea of me, but had he actually loved me he would never have believed I was capable of the kind of cold-hearted manipulation he’d accused me of. I wondered if he’d told the group what had happened, or if Morrigan had; I may have loved him still, but I had to admit to a certain degree of satisfaction at the thought of my brother punching him in the nose.

 I sat on a faded green vinyl couch and brooded. I wondered how Alistair and I would be able to move forward. He was a Grey Warden, so he couldn’t very well leave, and it seemed I was going to be dragged back to the group again and again, so I couldn’t escape either. Although I hadn’t been back on Earth this often in months; I hoped it didn’t indicate that I was stuck here. As angry as I was, as hurt as I was, I wanted to be back with my brother and my friends. I needed them to get me through this.

 I cried a few more tears, and finally fell asleep on the ugly industrial couch. I woke in the same place a few hours later with a terrible headache and a sore back, and I limped to my room in agony. The nurse from the previous day saw me, and followed me into my room.

 “Are you alright?”

 I winced as I sat down on the bed. “Headache.”

 “Want something? I can ask the doctor to let me give you some advil.”

 “That would be amazing.” I was annoyed at the absence of health poultices and healing magic. For such a technologically advanced world, the Earth didn’t hold a candle to Thedas for taking care of someone’s health. Assuming you knew people who knew how to make poultices, of course.

 She bustled back in a few minutes later with two advil and a glass of water; I tossed back the pills with a few swallows of water and laid back to await relief. She told me the doctor would be in soon.

 She was right, and half an hour later, headache-free but still red-eyed, I sat up as he walked in.

 “I haven’t seen you awake this often in ages.”

 “I was thinking the same thing. It would seem…emotional upset triggers me to come back.”

 “Oh?” His expression was kind; he’d not locked me up yet. I took a deep breath.

 “Yeah, well, my dream-boyfriend just dumped me, so…”

 “Oh, Sierra, I’m sorry.”

 “Me too.”

 “Does that mean I should expect you back here more often?”

 “Maker, I hope not!” I noticed his puzzled expression and thought about what I’d said. “Ha. I finally start using local jargon just in time for it to be out of place again.”

 “You don’t want to be back here?” He still seemed confused that I preferred my ‘dream’ world.

 I couldn’t really explain it any better than I already had. “I think my life is there now. I have a brother, friends, a purpose. Boyfriend or not, it’s still better than being here.”

 He shook his head. “I can’t say I understand even in the slightest, but I suppose if it makes you happy…”

 “Thanks, doc.”

 “I’ll check in on you tomorrow, if you’re still here with us.”

 “Sounds like a plan.”

 The next two days were possibly the most boring days of my life. Other than mourning my lost relationship, I had nothing to do. I didn’t even have my phone to listen to music; apparently it stayed in Thedas with Leli. I wondered if she’d figured out how to charge it yet. I bought another device charger – the gift store had restocked, but only had one – just in case. I asked about ordering a solar-powered charger, and they said they’d look into it. I cried a lot, but without anyone to talk to about it, I didn’t make any headway dealing with my grief. I tried reading, but the books at the hospital just didn’t have the same appeal as living my own crazy adventure. I thought about booting up the game, but I couldn’t bring myself to see even a digital rendering of Alistair. I watched television in the waiting room, but it was just irritating. I finally settled for walking the halls, hoping at least to keep up my stamina. I knew a few days of inactivity would make it harder when I returned.

 I had just started to despair that I wouldn’t ever be able to return, when I got dizzy. I snagged a passing nurse, blurting out my hospital room number, before sinking down and passing out.


	55. Negotiations

Chapter Fifty-Five: Negotiations

 When I woke, I was lying on the floor. Not the ground, but a stone floor. I was confused – where in the Void was I?

 I sat up cautiously, looking around. I was in a dusty corner of a large room. The walls were all stone, and there was only one tiny window that I could see from my vantage. All around me were broken tables, chairs with missing legs, and a variety of other rubbish I refused to think about too hard. _I’ve apparently woken in a trash heap. Fabulous._ I nudged something that might once have been a handkerchief away, before rolling over and slowly working my way to my feet. Once I was standing, I could see a little bit better; the half of the room nearest me was apparently a refuse pile, but the rest of the room housed bookshelves overflowing with enormous tomes, and tables all covered in open books, flasks, and other equipment that looked vaguely scientific. There were several doors, all closed.

 I knew where I was. I didn’t know how it could have happened, but somehow I was in Soldier’s Peak, in, or near, Avernus’ laboratory. I didn’t see any corpses or cages, but given that almost everything in Thedas was bigger than the game made it out to be, I assumed I was in a room that served as the library, and one of those doors led to where he’d been experimenting on his former ‘brothers’. I was a bit afraid to open any of the doors, not wanting to accidentally wander in to the charnel house I knew was around somewhere.

 Just as I was pondering my options, one of the doors opened. A tall, deathly skinny, ghostly white-skinned bald man in robes came through, a stack of books in hand. The top book was open, and the man, Avernus I assumed, was studying something in it and muttering under his breath. He didn’t appear to have noticed me at all, and I almost giggled; it was too cliché. He walked over to a table, shoved a bunch of stuff to the side with one arm, and deposited the stack of books in the newly cleared space. He turned around to exit via the same door he’d entered without even looking around.

 I finally cleared my throat, and he jumped as he turned back. His eyebrows, white bushy things, tried to crawl up his forehead in surprise, though to his credit, he didn’t shriek.

 “Who are you? How did you get here?”

 He turned towards a different door without waiting for an answer, and I felt his aura flare as he cast some sort of spell. It felt…greasy, was the only word I could come up with for it. Wynne’s magic always felt warm, Morrigan’s felt sort of wild, but this was like taking a bath in lard. “My ward is intact, and the demons still survive. What are you, a demon who broke through? A fade spirit?”

 He turned back towards me, and I actually thought for a moment he might just hit me with a spell. The intensity in his eyes was frightening, and I could feel the magic gathering at his command, though I wasn’t sure what spell he was working on. Afraid for my life, I reached out mentally and seized his mana, interrupting whatever he’d been about to do. He staggered and went down on one knee, his breath hissing out of him with a groan. I felt bad – I’d no desire to hurt him – but I wasn’t about to be lit on fire, or become his next test subject either.

 “I’m not a demon or a spirit.”

 He looked up at me, disdain battling with fear on his lined face. “I can see that, templar.” The title was spat at me like an epithet, and I sighed.

 “I’m not a templar either, though I apparently have some of their abilities. Listen, I don’t want to fight with you. Can we sit down like adults and talk for a minute? If I am convinced you won’t immediately try to kill me, I’ll give you your mana back.” I walked over to one of the few intact chairs and sat down, gesturing to one opposite.

 He struggled to his feet, face red in anger, but curiosity seemed to win, briefly. “What do you mean, give it back? That’s not possible.”

 I sighed. “Sit. I’ll try to explain. But I assure you, it is possible.” As a demonstration, I gave him back a tiny trickle of his mana. His eyes widened, and he slid into the chair, mouth open.

 “Explain, then.”

 “Why don’t we try to be pleasant about the whole thing? First things first. You’re Avernus. You’re a Grey Warden blood mage; you summoned the demons out there and lost control of them, and that was centuries ago. You tore the Veil and more keep coming through. And you experimented on the surviving Grey Wardens looking for ways to improve the Joining.”

 His eyes got even wider, if that was possible, and he glanced around, as though wondering who else might have heard. I almost laughed.

 “I’m Sierra. I’m…well.” I thought quickly. How to explain? “I’m from a different world. As in, somewhere other than Thedas. I’m travelling with three of the last surviving Grey Wardens in Ferelden, but we got separated. I seem to be able to sort of…appear, places. And for some reason, I have templar powers. The Grey Wardens I travel with should be here in a few days to clean this place out. The Commander is looking forward to meeting you.”

 He stared at me for a while, and I let him think about things until it seemed he was ready to ask me questions.

 “If you’re not from Thedas, where are you from?”

 I explained Earth in basic terms; no magic, technology, different cultures. I explained the game, though I avoided calling it such, and used that as a jumping board to explaining how I knew him and my multiple alternate universe theory. He was intrigued by the idea of other worlds, and I briefly wondered if I shouldn’t have told him – what if he managed to find another world? What if he made it to Earth? And then I laughed – he would probably be powerless, and get hit by a car in the first five minutes. The Earth would survive. He could join me on the psych ward, if he survived.

 To my disappointment, he had no idea how I could have travelled, though he postulated that perhaps I somehow could physically enter and cross the Fade. It didn’t make sense to me – my body was different in the different places – but I had to agree that the Veil and the Fade were likely somehow involved.

 To my surprise, he had a theory on my templar abilities.

 “It makes sense, if you think about it.”

 I was confused. He hadn’t explained anything yet. “It does?” It was a bit surreal having the conversation, with Avernus of all people, but I was intensely curious.

 “Well, of course. What traits make a good templar?”

 “I have absolutely no idea. And neither did the mage I asked. Wait, do you know?”

 He looked shocked, almost more so than he did at my presence. “How is it possible that people don’t know? It’s entirely obvious.”

 “From what I gather, even the Chantry isn’t sure why some people are better templars than others.”

 He snorted. “That’s hardly a surprise. What the Chantry knows would fit in a thimble. But how do the mages not know?”

 He muttered under his breath for a bit about lost knowledge, and I had to clear my throat again to get him back on task.

 “Right. The trait that determines whether someone will be an effective templar is resistance to magic. Everyone is born with a different inherent resistance to it. Those with higher resistances are better templars. They used to selectively breed it into the royalty of the various countries across Thedas – most of the Kings and Queens would make formidable templars. It also kept magic from manifesting in any possible heirs. If you grew up in a world without magic, I imagine you might have more magic resistance than has ever been seen here before. It makes sense you’d be an effective templar.”

 It was an interesting hypothesis, one we wouldn’t be able to test without finding some way to bring someone else from Earth over, but it made for a fascinating possibility. It would also explain why Alistair, despite hating it, was such a prize for the Chantry – his royal blood probably made him a damn good templar, even ignoring the political gain. When I wasn’t so pissed off at him, I planned to tell him about it.

 He asked me what I was capable of, so far, and I described the shielding and the accidental blast that had killed multiple darkspawn at Ostagar and again at Redcliffe. He made me show him the shield, and I discovered that I could even shield myself. He was fascinated, and immediately grabbed a book filled with mostly blank pages and began scribbling furiously in it with a quill. He growled at me when I tried to interrupt him, and I finally sat back to wait it out.

 When he was done, we sat and discussed things some more. Avernus had seemed to calm down, and I wasn’t worried anymore that he would fireball me or something, so I carefully released my hold and gave him his mana back. His expression was wondrous, and I smiled at the childlike glee.

 It was getting late, and he started to look haggard; I was guessing that staying alive this many centuries took a toll on his stamina, Grey Warden or not. He ushered me through a nearby door, warning me in no uncertain terms not to enter the door he’d come through – it was his lab. I was in a small sitting room, furnished with a settee, a couch, and a few chairs. There was a huge fireplace, which he lit with the snap of a finger. He didn’t have a spare bed in his area of the fortress, but the couch was dramatically more comfortable that the vinyl monstrosity I’d accidentally slept on in hospital, and was even a far sight better than sleeping on the ground, so I didn’t mind. He found me a blanket, and an old (but miraculously clean) robe, and showed me how to use the enchanted faucet that could pour cold water into a basin.

 Another nearby room held a fireplace and a few tables that looked to serve as a kitchen. He had a number of vegetables stored – he told me he had a roof-top garden and promised to show me the following day. He told me he’d learned how to use preservations spells to keep the vegetables edible long after harvesting. There was a hook over the fire to hang a pot of water for heating. From what I could see, he was burning furniture, which made sense – after this long, any firewood would have been long gone, but he’d have been able to scavenge wooden furniture from the rest of the keep. The trash heap I’d woken in started to make more sense – he probably kept anything that would burn. And I was relieved to hear about the garden; I hadn’t wanted to know what exactly he’d been eating for two hundred years, otherwise. He did complain about the lack of meat, but I figured I’d manage for the expected three days until my group arrived.

 He excused himself to go to bed; restless, I went to the library and fished through until I found a book on Warden history. It worked – I fell asleep quite quickly when I tried reading it while reclining on the couch.

 The next morning, we shared a pot of vegetable soup, bland without any spices. I got the impression it was the same thing he ate every day. He then showed me the garden – surprisingly meticulously well-kept with areas for vegetables and herbs, and even warm, thanks to some sort of magic ward – and gave me a tour of the rest of the small area he’d made safe from the demons below. He didn’t offer to take me into his lab, and I didn’t ask.

 We talked about Earth more, and about the crazy way I popped back and forth. I brought him up to date on what had happened with the Blight – he knew from his dreams that one was happening, but didn’t know it was happening in Ferelden – and the civil war. He asked about what happened in the game, and the eventual outcome. He was interested in the Architect, unsurprisingly, and I briefly prayed that the two never met. I rather liked Avernus – he was crusty and sarcastic, but still sort of funny – but I didn’t really trust him, and I was quite sure he wasn’t totally sane. I didn’t want to know what sort of mischief he could get up to with the Architect’s crazy ideas to work with.

 He left me to my own devices in the afternoon, and I spent some time reading his journals in more detail. Some of them described the gory minutia of each experiment, but some explained in more broad strokes what he was trying to accomplish. I stuck to those, and got a better idea of what he’d been working on with the Joining formula. He had been trying to improve the traits of the Warden after Joining, as I recalled from the game, but it talked a bit about how, and which traits seemed amenable to manipulation. I didn’t understand most of the theory, but it was still an afternoon’s interesting reading.

 Supper was quiet, and then he retired again, and I took up my history book again to try and fall asleep. It didn’t work as well the second time; I was awake half the night, mind racing.

 The next day I rewrote my list of ‘weird things about Sierra’ to see if he had any ideas. His only theory was on the templar abilities – the how and why of everything else wasn’t any more clear to him than it was to me.   After a discussion of the times when I went back to Earth, he wondered if the timing of the leaving, as well as some of the discrepancies between the bodies was actually an unconscious choice on my part. I had to admit he was right – I often did disappear from Thedas when upset, and I didn’t get to come back until I was calm.

 He peppered me with questions about the darkspawn ignoring me, none of which I could answer, to his frustration. I got the chance to ask him some questions about the Joining, and he answered quite candidly. Apparently he’d put off his Calling – and prolonged his life – through sheer determination and blood magic. It wasn’t anything he could give to others, though he agreed that he could look into it and see if there was any way to prolong the lives of current and future Wardens. He didn’t say he would, however; I hoped Tomas would have some sway with him.

 We ended up in another discussion on the Joining – about the number of recruits who died. He also thought he could decrease that, but wouldn’t commit to actually working on it. The conversation on the infertility associated with being a Warden went similarly; he thought with enough research he could fix it, but again wouldn’t agree to actually try.

 Finally irritated at his intransigence, I lost my temper a bit.

 “Why the hell wouldn’t you try? You claim to have done all…that,” I pointed at the door to his inner sanctum, through which I’d still never gone, “to help the Wardens, to improve the Joining – wouldn’t making sure more of them live through it be the best way to start changing the Joining formula? And perhaps if the negatives weren’t so severe, it would be easier to recruit?”

 His expression was enigmatic. “I have my own priorities, young lady. What makes you think that what you determine is important has any bearing on me?”

 “What I…it isn’t what I determine that’s important! Are you really so blind that you can’t see the benefit to more Wardens surviving? What’s the typical death rate, thirty percent? Higher? If you could ensure they’d survive, then you’d have half again as many Wardens. Even if every Warden was less effective than they are, it would be worth it. And the recruiting would be much easier if those Wardens could have families, and could possibly expect to live to old age. Some of them would die doing their duty, but perhaps not all. Wouldn’t that be worth it?”

 “I can see it is important to you. Why? Are you wanting to Join? Or worried about someone who already has?”

 “My brother’s a Warden. Of course it matters. And no, I don’t want to Join, but don’t you think there are those who would if it were more acceptable? And it would be more acceptable if it were safer, so fewer secrets.”

 “You’re certainly passionate on the subject. I wonder if there’s some way you could convince me to your point of view.”

 I narrowed my eyes. He might have been acting all innocent, but the sparkle in his eye said he knew exactly how I could convince him.

 “Alright, Avernus, what exactly is your price?”

 He looked like he was thinking about it, and I growled. He smirked and then finally told me. “Well, two things, I think. The first, and I know you’ll be shocked by this, is blood. Yours, to be specific. You have something that makes darkspawn unable to even see you. I want to know what it is, and if I can duplicate it. So I’d need some of your blood. I can bleed it slowly, and give you a potion to increase how fast you create more. It wouldn’t really harm you.”

 I considered. I’d given blood before for blood drives; I’d signed my organ donor card and the ‘donate my body to science’ cards, I didn’t really have a concern about him experimenting on my blood, especially if it would help.

 “What’s the second thing?”

 His expression was a little more concerned. “Well, more blood. From….after. I want you to give me your word that if I can guarantee those three things you asked for – improved fertility, fewer initial deaths, and a delay to the Calling – that you will undergo the Joining and allow me to take some of your blood after.”

 I was in shock, to say the least. I had never considered becoming a Grey Warden. There would be some obvious benefits – stamina, sensing the darkspawn – but also some obvious down sides. I might lose whatever it was that made darkspawn ignore me, and that was even assuming I survived the Joining.

 I considered. It would probably be worth it, if the benefits were great enough. “How long a delay in the Calling?”

 “Say, twenty years? Fifty years from the time of the Joining – most men would have died of something else first.”

 “How many fewer deaths?”

 “I can’t say for sure until I do it, but at least half as many. And I can commit to continuing to look for improvements, and adding them in to any subsequent formulas.”

 “And will any of it work on those who are already Wardens?”

 He seemed to think about it for a bit. “Those who are newly Wardens, say within…five years of their Joining, probably. Both the infertility and the Calling, though I’ll have to do some more research to confirm that. But for those who have been Wardens for many years, probably not. I can’t reverse the taint. I can only slow it down.”

 I tried to think, but my mind was racing. “And no more killing Wardens – or anyone else – to do the research? You’d find ethical ways to figure it out?”

 His expression was sour, but he nodded. “I suppose I can live with that. It’s not like I have a fortress full of ‘volunteers’ anymore, anyway.”

 “Let me think about it. I can’t…I need to think.”

 He nodded. “Don’t think for too long. I don’t have that much time left, and it would be a shame to have to track you down if you were halfway across Ferelden when I figured it out.”

 I nodded. “I’ll give you my answer today. Later.”

 “When do you think your friends will arrive?”

 I counted days. “The day after tomorrow. Give or take. Unless they get delayed, or Levi has trouble finding the right path or something.”

 “Who’s Levi?”

 “The great-something grandson of your former Commander. She blackened their name, but he’s made a living as a merchant. He knows the way through the tunnels leading to this place. Sort of.”

 He nodded. “That will do. On that note, I’m going to get some work done.”

 I asked him for spare parchment, and he supplied me with a quill and a notebook of sorts. I spent part of the day making lists of pros and cons, but in the end, it came down to this: if I wanted my brother to avoid his Calling, leaving me alone in Thedas, I had to do it. I just couldn’t stand the thought of losing Aedan in his fifties to go into the Deep Roads on a suicide mission. No matter what else I thought of, nothing could get around that one fact.

 When Avernus came out for supper, I told him I’d go ahead. I also warned him that if he didn’t keep up his end of the bargain to continue improving the Joining formula, I’d make sure Aedan or someone else would make him pay for it.

 He wanted to get started taking blood right away, and I agreed. He gave me some sort of potion which he said would help my body replenish the blood he took; it tasted sort of like blood, and I was revolted, but considering I’d actually agreed to drink darkspawn blood, I figured I might as well get used to it. He then used a narrow blade to make a small cut in the crease of my elbow, which stung, putting my hand in a jar to allow the blood to collect there. He cast some sort of preservation spell on the jar itself, I assumed so the blood wouldn’t clot or get contaminated. I shuddered at the feeling of the blood pouring down my skin, and started talking to distract myself from the sensation.

 “How will you perform the Joining? Don’t you need Archdemon blood? Or will it have to wait until this blight is over?”

 He gave me a funny look. “You are aware this is a Grey Warden base?”

 I nodded, confused.

 “What makes you think there wouldn’t be a supply of Archdemon blood here?”


	56. Throwing Punches

Chapter Fifty-Six: Throwing Punches

 “What makes you think there wouldn’t be a supply of Archdemon blood here?”

 I stopped, mouth agape. In the game you had so few dialogue options, but it never even occurred to me that Avernus would have the supplies for the Joining.

 He continued. “Of course, it is downstairs somewhere. Hidden, obviously, but there are quite a few demons between it and us. We will have to wait until your friends can clear out the levels below.”

 At that I sputtered, “You want to do it right away? Don’t you need to do the research first, figure out how to improve the formula? I suppose it’s selfish, but I’d like to use the improved one on myself. I’d rather not die in the Joining.”

 His smirk was…annoying. “I have already done the research. I improved the failure rate of the formula long ago – I don’t know the numbers for certain, but I think the death rate should be less than ten percent. And the Calling will be easy – the ritual I have been using to delay my own will easily translate. The fertility issue is new – I’d never thought very hard about it – but I’m sure a few days of reading and I will have it figured out.”

 “You bastard! You already had two out of three of my demands met?”

 His expression was still smug; I had the desire to punch him, and probably would have if I hadn’t been leaking blood from my dominant arm. “I am afraid so. I didn’t think just the fertility issue would be enough for you to go through the Joining. But now you have given your word.”

 “How do you know I won’t just call it off? You negotiated in bad faith, I’d say our contract is well and truly void.”

 He examined my face for a moment. “You could, but you won’t. You gave your word, and you won’t break it. You are not like me.”

 He had me, and he knew it. I could have claimed the deal invalid, but the minute he compared me to himself... _Damn you, Avernus. I hate you right now._

 I slumped in defeat and waited until the blood finished draining. I wondered how he managed to keep the blood flowing – _shouldn’t such a small wound have closed by now?_ – but then it occurred to me he had probably enchanted the dagger. Or coated it with something. Clotting would be very inconvenient for a blood mage if it happened at the wrong time.

 I started to feel a bit woozy, so Avernus cast a small healing spell and then helped me lie down. I fell almost instantly asleep, which was a nice change.

 The following day I felt much better, so after another vile concoction he did it again. He swore the potion would ensure I’d recouped enough, and I didn’t feel lightheaded anymore, so I went along with it. He spent the rest of the day researching fertility stuff, and I spent it reading his earlier journals, where he detailed reducing the death rate of the formula. _Too bad I hadn’t read them yesterday!_

 I was both nervous and eager to see everyone. I wanted my armour back – my jeans had started to feel weird, after so many months in Fereldan clothing and armour – and I needed my brother. I wanted a hug, and I wasn’t about to ask Avernus! I even wanted to see Alistair, though I had no idea how that was going to go. I’d thought long and hard about that, and come to no conclusions other than waiting to see what he did, first.

 After much thought, I decided not to tell anyone about my deal with Avernus. I knew Aedan would lose it and try to prevent me from taking the Joining, and might even kill Avernus. Tomas would try to talk me out of it though I didn’t think he’d actually refuse a volunteer, and everyone else might find out Grey Warden secrets they weren’t supposed to know during the course of the shouting matches. They wouldn’t be able to change my mind, and it was drama I just didn’t need. I warned Avernus to keep his mouth shut on the subject as well, and he agreed.

 When we met for supper, he told me he was having difficulty figuring out the fertility component to my demands. He said he just didn’t know any fertility rituals, and had few books about them at the Keep. I immediately thought of Morrigan – given her plan to conceive the child of a Grey Warden, if anyone knew anything about fertility rituals, it would likely be her. I mentioned I had an apostate friend who might be able to help, and he was quite pleased at the possibility. I realised I trusted Morrigan with my secret Joining plan – she wouldn’t judge, and wouldn’t tattle.

 At supper, when I complained about difficulty sleeping, Avernus offered me a sleeping draught of some sort. I accepted it, but stared at it suspiciously for a long time before finally deciding that he wouldn’t poison me before my Joining. I drank it all in one foul swallow, curled up on my couch, and promptly feel into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 I felt well refreshed in the morning, not groggy at all; _Avernus could have made a fortune on Earth with that sleeping medicine!_ I was impatient for everyone to arrive, and I went out onto the rooftop garden hoping to be able to see the party when they approached. My impatience was rewarded, because it wasn’t an hour later when I saw a group of tiny figures moving out in the courtyard. I hoped Aedan had read my notes on the undead, but couldn’t really see what was happening that far away. I tried shouting to attract attention, but the only thing I succeeded in doing was pissing off Avernus.

 He grumbled as he walked out onto the roof. “They can’t hear you from there, traveller. You’d have a better chance of attracting the demons than your friends from this distance.”

 “Alright, let’s go down and meet them.”

 “Are you mad? There are demons down there.”

 “Yeah, that you summoned! Open the damn ward, Avernus. We need to help them.”

 He looked at me like I had a third head. I had a brief, inappropriate internal discussion about extra heads being the unfortunate side effect of the sleeping draught before he interrupted my train of thought.

 “There are what, eight of them? Ten? Well-armed, experienced in combat, yes?”

 I did a quick head count. “Twelve, I think, actually. Thirteen if you count Levi.”

 “And we are two. You are unarmed, unarmoured, and even if you had weapons, you have only been wielding them for a few months at the most. And I can’t use my most effective spells – any more blood magic down there, and I’ll tear the veil so badly it will never close. We wait for them to come to us. They know I’m up here, yes? They will get here eventually.”

 I sighed, frustrated. He was right, and that pissed me off; I wanted to get down there and see my brother. When I lost sight of the small group in the courtyard, I went in, deciding to wait immediately inside the warded door. I grabbed a book and dragged a chair over, sitting down to fret and pretend to read.

 The day dragged on painfully, with Avernus locking himself back in the laboratory to do research, presumably on fertility, so I sat alone, then paced alone, then sat some more. We had supper, finally, by which time my nerves were shot. Avernus finally settled down nearby on a chair in the ‘library’, and I thought he was possibly being empathetic and trying to help, which was odd. _Or maybe he’s just curious, and as impatient as I am._

 It was late, and dark out, when we heard sounds of fighting filtering through the wall between us and the Commander’s Office where demon-Sophia waited. Once he thought she was dead, Avernus lowered the ward keeping them out. I stood anxiously, and finally the door slowly creaked open.

 Alistair entered first, with Sten and Shale on his heels, and then everyone else filed in behind. I’d thought the room was a good size, but it felt positively crowded with thirteen people, a golem, and a mabari. I laughed in relief when I saw my brother enter, brown hair sticking out from his helmet in clumps.

 When Alistair spotted me, he stopped with an oath, causing a chain reaction leading to Aedan walking face first into Sten’s armoured shoulder. After a few choice curses, Aedan noticed me with a gasp. The whole group looked dumbfounded for a moment, but eventually smiles broke out.

 Except for Alistair. He reached up and pulled his helmet off, dropping it without even looking at where it landed. He walked over to me, slowly, hands up in a placating gesture. He reached out to grab my hand, and I let him, though the urge to bolt was strong. He tried to meet my gaze, but I kept averting my eyes, and he eventually gave up.

 I could see Morrigan behind him, shooting me what I could have sworn was a sympathetic look; Aedan’s eyes were dark and he looked about to murder Alistair.

 Alistair spoke, his voice low but loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m sorry, Sierra. We need to talk about what happened, but I don’t think this is the time. I just wanted to apologise, first. Can we talk about this later?”

 I glanced up at him once, noting a rather puffy, inflamed black eye, before looking away and stepping back.

 “No.” I pulled my hand out of his grasp, edging around the templar. I made it to the group behind him, and found myself welcomed into a space behind Morrigan and beside Aedan. My brother put his arm around me, and Morrigan reached back, allowing me to grip her hand. My eyes filled with tears that I tried to wipe away angrily before they could spill.

 “No? Sierra…” He looked at where I stood, confusion and hurt clear in his expression.

 “No, Alistair. I’m not okay. You don’t get to just…do that, and then say sorry and think that I would just forget it happened.”

 “I just want to fix things. Please? I need you.”

 “You should have thought about that when you asked me if I was a monster and then walked away.”

 Aedan’s arm tightened, and I was grateful for the support, but also for his silence. For everyone’s silence. I was suddenly, finally done with being feeble, with needing to be protected. And my little family were letting me fight my own battle. I felt Tomas’ hand on my shoulder, but still no one else spoke.

 “I spoke rashly. I should have…well, anything but that. I was upset, but that’s no excuse.”

 “At least you’re aware of that much.” My tone was icy, and part of me cringed inside; his puppy dog eyes were sad and puzzled and hurt, and his bottom lip stuck out just slightly in a pout. He seemed almost dazed, and I wondered if he had expected me to just fall into his arms after an apology. It had been pretty clear to me that he had broken it off with me, and then he was surprised? When I had decided to wait and see what he would do, I had assumed he would either be angry still, or just avoid me. I had no idea how to react to this.

 I hardened my heart and turned away from him. I couldn’t deal with him any more at the moment.

 “We have bigger things to talk about right now. This is Avernus. Aedan, Alistair, and Tomas,” I pointed to each man in turn, “are the Grey Wardens. The rest of these people are their companions, and we can make formal introductions later.” I turned to Aedan. “I believe Avernus said that it wouldn’t be safe to sleep without repairing the tear in the veil first, otherwise this place is going to fill back up again. I know you guys must be exhausted, but can we take care of the veil and then find somewhere to sleep? We can make a plan tomorrow.”

 Everyone reluctantly agreed; fighting a keep full of demons and undead a second time didn’t appeal to anyone, really. Aedan handed me a pack with my gear, and I snuck into the little room I’d been sleeping in to change into my leathers. Leli helped, but after an obvious look at the thin door between us and the main room, we didn’t speak. It felt good to have my daggers on my hips again.

 We trooped down the stairs, with me sandwiched between Aedan and either Leli, Wynne, or Morrigan the entire time, and Alistair following us at the back. The loudest sound was clanking footsteps from the warriors in their plate; no one spoke above a whisper, the entire atmosphere tense and uncomfortable.

 Avernus set up a ritual in a massive room with multiple scorched areas on the floor; he warned us that demons would try to stop him, and then when we all confirmed we were ready, he stepped into the first scorch mark and started chanting.

 Demons swarmed out from the ground, but they were met with ice and steel, and finished off quickly. I even got in a few lucky shots with my daggers, which Morrigan had spelled with ice; I froze and shattered a rage demon, and grinned at Aedan in triumph. His expression, unlike mine, was of abject terror; I sighed, ignored him, and got ready for the next wave.

 When Avernus paused in his chanting, I noted the scorch marks were gone from the floor under his feet; the stone was back to a normal grey. The first tear had been sealed.

 We repeated the same process over and over, the demons having fewer areas to appear as each tear closed, and soon rage demons gave way to something else, which I assumed were ash wraiths. They looked like some odd combination between demons and undead like Revenants, but were somewhat translucent too. They were defeated as well, breaking apart into millions of swirling motes of dust or ash as they fell. Finally a desire demon made an appearance, and it was immediately surrounded by the warriors and Aedan; I didn’t even get a chance to get close. I could feel its mana, though, and I drained it, making it a simple matter for the boys to finish it off.

 I hadn’t really realised just how oppressive a feel the keep had had until it lifted. The last tear was repaired, and suddenly it felt like just a room instead of a den of pure evil. We all shared smiles, too exhausted for cheering. I fell into Aedan’s arms, and he held me close.

 “Avernus? Can you show us to somewhere we can all choose rooms close together?”

 The old mage nodded and led the way to a wing of the keep, on the third floor. There was a common area that at one point had probably held couches and chairs but was now conspicuously empty, with several doors leading from it. He indicated we could each take one room as we liked, and then excused himself to go back to his own room. Aedan grabbed a bedroll and a pack, handing them to me, then grabbed another one each for himself. He nodded at Zev, who nodded back; taking my hand, he ushered me and Prince into one of the rooms without another word, and shut the door behind us. Each room had some sort of magical lantern thing, which Avernus had explained; Aedan touched it, and it sputtered to life, exuding a weak yellow glow. _We need to steal some of those when we leave._

 The room we were in wasn’t large; there would have been room for a double bed, a dresser, and a chest, but it had its own attached cubicle with a washstand, chamber pot, and large copper tub. There was no furniture – when I saw Aedan’s confused look, I told him about Avernus’ scrap pile, and he laughed – so after sweeping a thick layer of dust away with a dirty blanket, Aedan and I spread our bedrolls side by side in one corner, with space in the middle for Prince.

 “You can go find Zev’s room, if you want. I’ll be fine here, honestly.”

 “Not a chance. I didn’t wait up for you last time, and look what happened.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes; clearly, he was feeling guilty for going to bed when Alistair and I broke up. I squeezed his hand, and he continued. “Zev gets it; it’s fine for tonight. We can figure things out tomorrow.”

 I used the cubicle to change out of armour and put on my light linen sleepwear, while Aedan did the same in the bedroom. We lay down, one on either side of the mabari, who was already fast asleep.

 “You want to talk about it?”

 I shook my head. “Not tonight. We’re both exhausted. We can talk tomorrow. But I have to thank you for giving Alistair that nice shiner.” I touched the area around my own eye.

 Aedan chuckled. “Don’t thank me. Morrigan gave it to him.”

 “She did? I could see her zapping him with lightning or something, but a black eye?”

 “I’ll tell you in the morning. The whole story’s a bit amusing.”

 “I’ll hold you to that.”

 He reached up and touched the lantern, and the room was immediately pitch black. I settled into my bedroll to sleep, but my hand encountered Aedan’s when I stroked Prince’s short fur; I grabbed it and squeezed, and then fell asleep holding it.

 I woke at one point from a dream where I relived Alistair walking away from me over and over. Aedan held me while I sobbed, with Prince nosing me and licking my fingers mournfully, and I finally fell asleep again on my brother’s shoulder. In the morning, I woke early, and stayed in my bedroll for a while watching Aedan sleep. He looked so peaceful, I didn’t have the heart to wake him. He woke on his own a few minutes later, smiling at me when his eyes opened.

 “I missed you the last few days.”

 “I did too. I hate being back there. And then I was stuck here with just creepy Avernus for company. I haven’t been in his lab yet, and I don’t think I want to.”

 He grimaced. “I suppose we will have to; we’ll need to see what he did, in the name of the Grey Wardens. I’m not looking forward to it.”

 “So tell me what happened after I left?”

 He coloured. “Sierra…I never dreamed that Alistair would…that he…I went to bed early, and I didn’t know. After being such an idiot earlier, I should have waited up. I’m sorry.”

 “Nonsense. I asked Morrigan to tell you to go to sleep. And nothing you could have done would have changed what happened. Avernus thinks I subconsciously wish to go back, and he’s probably right; after what happened with Alistair, I had a moment where I wished I’d never come to Thedas. It didn’t last long, but apparently that was enough. So anyway, I came back to camp, and then?”

“Well, we all heard you cry out, and I scrambled out of my tent just in time to see your armour hit the ground. Morrigan was there, and when Alistair came out of his tent, she turned on him. She shouted that it was his fault; honestly I’ve never seen her so angry. I thought she might kill him. He got nervous – I think he thought she was going to light him on fire or something – and at least he didn’t smite her, but he stole her mana. She got even angrier, and just walked up to him and punched him right in the eye. He flopped down like a sack of flour, and then she told him that if he didn’t tell us what he’d done, she would.”

 I giggled at the mental image of Morrigan, stripped of mana, punching Alistair. “Oh, I wish I’d seen that!”

 “Yeah, I laughed, until I realised that something big must have happened. He told us what he was worried about, what he’d accused you of…everyone was so angry, Wynne wouldn’t even heal his black eye, and I thought Leliana might give him another one. Morrigan threw your necklace at him, and his face went all white, like he was going to be sick.

 “Everyone took turns shouting at him and telling him what an idiot he was. How obviously if you’d been after something, you could have gotten it from Cailan. That you saved his life, and tried to stay away from him. He was still angry at first, trying to defend himself. We gave him a chance, and when he heard himself trying to explain it, I think he figured out how stupid it was. Sten even challenged him to a duel, told him he was a coward and not worth associating with. Honestly, no one has spoken to him since. I figured if I said anything, I’d kill him.”

 I sighed. “He hurt me. Badly. I never dreamed he could think that of me. Not after everything.” I had never gotten over the disbelief that Alistair would leave the PC if she recruited Loghain. I guess I hadn’t wanted to believe it, really. “You should have seen the look he gave me when he walked away; like I was some disgusting piece of filth. I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of that image. And then when I saw he’d made himself a little one-person tent…it’s stupid, because I don’t know where I thought I would be sleeping after a fight like that, but the blatant message that I wasn’t wanted, that I didn’t belong…” I blinked away some tears. “I’ve had a lot of bad things happen, in my life, but I’d never felt like that before. I’d never really hoped, before, I guess.”

 I took a deep breath. “I won’t say I’m not heartbroken, and disappointed, and angry. I want to punch him, and I just might, later. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive him. I felt sort of dirty, after what he said. Violated. But Aedan, he’s your best friend, and your partner. You need him, and we all need to work with him. I can’t say I won’t be avoiding him, but you can’t. You need to put it behind you.”

 “You’re…amazingly rational about all this.”

 “I’ve had a week to cry and gnash my teeth and rip out my hair. Not that I won’t end up crying again later, but it’s pretty clear to me I have to somehow pretend it didn’t happen. That none of it happened. He clearly didn’t love me, anyway. I need to get over it.”

 “What makes you say that?”

 “Well, can you think of anything, any evidence that would convince you that I am capable of that sort of cold-hearted manipulation?”

 He thought about it, slowly shaking his head.

 “Exactly. But he did. If he loved me, shouldn’t he know I neither could, nor would do that? I’m not even a good enough actress to pull it off. There’s a song about that on my phone, somewhere – ‘If you don’t know me by now, you will never never never know me…’ I think he loved the idea of me, of someone who loved him back. But it feels like it wasn’t about me, in particular. And what pisses me off most is that I still love him, anyway. He’s a good man, when he’s not being insecure and stupid. It would have been so easy to just accept his apology…but I can’t live like that, knowing he thought it was possible that I’m that sort of monster.”

 “I’m sorry, Sierra. I truly am. I wish he’d never had the chance to hurt you. When you cry, it makes me want to murder him. For what it’s worth, I don’t agree. I do think he loves you. I think he’s phenomenally stupid, and I don’t blame you for not wanting to stay with him, but he loves you. I’m sure of it.”

 “It doesn’t matter. It’s better this way.”

 “It is?”

 “This was never going to work out. I knew it before, and I tried to ignore it for a while. But he’s the heir to the throne. He needs to marry a noblewoman and have babies. Carry on the Theirin line. I’d only be in the way, and we’d both be heartbroken later. A clean break is better.” The tears threatened to spill again, and I wiped them away. “This is better.”

 His expression said he wasn’t so sure, but I knew.


	57. Explanations

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Explanations

 Aedan reached out and pulled me into a hug. A few more tears rolled down my cheek, but I refused to lose it again. I pulled away.

 “Let’s go see who’s up.”

 We got ourselves dressed, in clothing, not armour, and then wandered out to the main room. Sten and Shale were there already, standing against various walls. Tomas, Dariel, Gorim, Wynne, Zev, and Levi were all sitting in a rough circle, gnawing on jerky. Leliana was in the room next to ours; her door was open, and I could hear her humming as she moved around. Morrigan was further down the hallway, and she came out when she heard Aedan saying good morning.

 The only one I didn’t see was Alistair, until I looked around some more; he was sitting on a bedroll, right beside the door to the room I shared with Aedan. His eyes were bloodshot, and I guessed he’d been there all night. His expression was neutral, but his hands shook slightly and I could tell it was taking quite an effort not to look at me or say anything. It might have been sweet, if I hadn’t been so angry; as it was it just pissed me off. It occurred to me he probably heard everything Aedan and I had talked about. I took a deep breath and looked away. I wasn’t going to get guilted into taking pity on him. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

 I greeted everyone, and then joined the circle on the floor, with my back to Alistair. I could feel his gaze on my back; it was heavy, like a blanket. I was determined to ignore it. Leliana joined us, as did Aedan; I reached for Morrigan’s hand and pulled her to sit by me as well. Sten and Shale stayed on the periphery, within hearing distance but not with us.

 I told them about my days with Avernus, avoiding talk of the Joining or Avernus’ improved formula, but explaining his theory on my magic resistance leading to templar abilities. Wynne was fascinated, and asked permission to try something; when I nodded, I felt her cast a spell on me. I immediately felt a little more energetic, less sleepy, and I smiled.

 “I think he might be right. How do you feel, dear?”

 “Good, Wynne, thanks. What was that?”

 “Just a little pick-me-up spell. Rejuvenation. But you should be positively overflowing with energy right now, not just feeling slightly better. I didn’t notice it the couple of times I healed you, I wasn’t looking for that, but you do resist magic. It’s worse than casting on a dwarf.” She shot Gorim an apologetic look, and he grinned.

 I told Alistair that his Calenhad bloodline could very well be the reason for his own impressive skills as a templar, and he flushed; I couldn’t tell if he was irritated or pleased.

 I also told them his theory on me subconsciously wanting to go back to Earth being the trigger for my transitions. It led to a few nasty looks in Alistair’s direction, and a lot of questions about various times when I’d disappeared. When we went through them, each time had at least some impetus.

 “What about when we met up with everyone in the Wilds?” Morrigan asked.

 “I’d briefly wished I’d disappear and reappear with them so that I’d know they were okay. I guess it was a little delayed.”

 “What about in Redcliffe when we were all at the Tower?” Leliana asked.

 I blushed. “I had a…disagreement, with Theron.”

 “And what about after Denerim, the first time?” Aedan asked.

 I laughed. “It occurred to me that I wanted to see if I could bring my phone over and play some music for Leli.”

 After a bit more laughter and discussion, we finally settled again. We decided that everyone needed a few days to recover from the strain of the last week, and Tomas wanted to explore the Keep. I told them that there were at least two secret caches I was aware of, and Zev and Leli immediately set off to search for them. I’d never made a deal with the Sophia demon, but I’d read there was a hiding spot with some money in it – Zev headed there to try to find out. Leliana decided to wander the Keep and see if she found any portraits, and I reminded her about speaking the Grey Warden oath.

 Sten and Shale went off somewhere, Levi refused to leave the safety of the common area we were in, and Dariel and Gorim stayed put to keep him company. Wynne wanted to explore Avernus’ library, so she and I accompanied Tomas, Aedan, and Alistair up to Avernus’ area. I dragged Morrigan with me, hoping for a chance to talk to her about fertility.

 Wynne peeled off to the library, the Grey Wardens headed in to Avernus’ lab, and I stayed out with Morrigan. With a surreptitious look at Wynne, I pulled the witch into the little room I’d used and sat her down with me on the couch.

 “Thanks for punching Alistair.”

 “You are quite welcome, though I did not do it for your thanks. The simpleton has no right to treat anyone like that. If he had not drained my mana, I would probably have done worse.”

 I hugged her, and to my surprise she allowed it.

 “I need a favour.” I was a little nervous asking Morrigan for a favour, but she just smiled.

 “What do you need, my friend?”

 “I need you to help Avernus with something. I’ve made a deal with him, and he’s going to try to improve the Joining formula. He already knows how to do some of the improvements, but I’ve asked him to try to decrease the infertility it causes. He isn’t familiar enough with fertility rituals, so he says.”

 “And you believe I am?”

 “Well, I hoped. Given the whole reason Flemeth sent you with us, I know you can somehow conceive with a Warden. I’m assuming part of that ritual ensures the fertility of the Warden, otherwise you couldn’t guarantee conception.”

 “I see. I have to ask, though. Why do you wish this?”

 I looked at her in surprise. “Why wouldn’t I? Anything that improves things for the Grey Wardens is a good thing.”

 “I had hoped you were done with the templar, after what he did.”

 “I am, Morrigan. Or rather, he’s done with me.” She gave me a dirty look. “This has nothing to do with him.”

 “Doesn’t it? Aedan swings for the other team,” she grinned and I giggled at the mangled Earth terminology, “Tomas is too old to worry about such things…whose fertility are you worried about, if not Alistair’s?”

 “Mine. Among others.”

 She looked at me, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You said you made a deal. What was your end?”

 “What you expect. He wants me to take the Joining, and then take some of my blood to study.”

 “What?” She jumped up off the couch and whirled towards me. “You cannot seriously be considering this.”

 “If it saves people’s lives? Keeps my brother with me for an extra twenty years? Boosts recruiting for the Grey Wardens? Damn right I’m considering it.”

 She paced back and forth, and I could practically see the wheels turning. She stopped after a bit, staring at my face. Finally she sighed and sat back down. “This improved formula will really do that? Save people? Keep Aedan alive longer?” I nodded. “I’ll never talk you out of it, in that case, will I?”

 “No.”

 “What do you need me to do?”

 “Just help Avernus figure out how to affect fertility. I’m sure he can tell you more than I. And maybe, when he’s ready…maybe distract the boys so they don’t try to stop me?”

 Her expression was reluctant, and I carefully schooled my features to hide any doubt I felt. She finally agreed. We headed back out into the library, finding Wynne sitting at a table with a stack of books, taking notes on some parchment. We sat for a bit, and eventually Avernus came out with Aedan, Tomas, and Alistair in tow. Tomas was talking with Avernus, and I could only hear a few words of the conversation, however it was obvious he was telling Avernus not to use any more blood magic or human sacrifice for his research. Avernus, for his part, was acting very humble, but there was a smirk hiding underneath the façade, and I could tell he wasn’t seriously listening. If he hadn’t already agreed to the terms with me, I might have been worried.

 Aedan told me the bodies had been dealt with – I assumed they’d been burned by a fireball or some such from Avernus. They also informed Avernus in no uncertain terms that his lab was not off limits to myself or the Grey Wardens, and that he’d be watched while we remained at the Keep. His eyes flashed with irritation, but it looked more like righteous indignation than anything. I let it go.

 Morrigan spoke up and asked to speak with Avernus; I saw Wynne shoot a suspicious look at the witch’s back, and even Aedan looked uncomfortable leaving the two apostates alone together. Before he could say anything, I volunteered to stay and keep an eye on them. Tomas wanted Aedan and Alistair to spend some time looking around, making lists for what would be needed to renovate the keep for eventual use, and the three men left to do that. Avernus volunteered to Wynne that she could take some herbs and vegetables out of his garden, and her frown eased.

 I followed Morrigan into Avernus’ lab, curious to see it. The faint smell of cooking flesh remained, so I knew I was correct about how the bodies had been disposed of, but there was nothing objectionable remaining in the lab. I pulled up a chair and half listened as Morrigan and Avernus started talking shop about fertility and rituals, but with the greater portion of my brain power, I was thinking about my reaction to Alistair.

 I was still angry, obviously. But a small part of me just wanted to accept his apology and leap into his arms. At the same time, it was a good thing I wasn’t a mage or I might have zapped him with something really nasty.

 Overall, I was stuck with one conclusion – nothing would be the same again, and the world was a lot sadder for that fact.

 I wondered if I’d ever be able to be friends with him, even. Given that we’d never exactly been friends before, that we varied between a hesitant truce and him thinking I was a whore, I doubted it. We didn’t have anything to fall back on.

 Morrigan and Avernus worked late into the afternoon, and I paid attention only enough to realise they were making headway. Avernus promised to finish it off over the next day, and allow Morrigan to test it; the day after that would be my Joining.

 We met back with the group for supper. Wynne and I brought some fresh produce from the garden, and Leli made a lovely soup with them and some jerky and spices she’d bought in Denerim. Things weren’t as lively during the meal as they had been before I disappeared, and I was sad for the loss of the easy camaraderie we had shared. I hadn’t actually heard Alistair speak since the night before, when they’d first come through the door, and despite how angry I was, I missed his sense of humour.

 I insisted Aedan and Zev share a room for the night, and I bunked down with Prince, who seemed happy enough to accompany me. I cried a little, until the dog licked my face and made me laugh. I slept reasonably well, and woke feeling relatively refreshed.

 Alistair was asleep outside my door, again, when I got up in the morning. I almost said something scathing, but managed to hold my tongue. We all toured the Keep together after breakfast, and Zev and Leli got to show off their finds. The place was huge, easily big enough to hold hundreds of Wardens and their support staff. Each area in the living quarters was like the one we had been using – a shared central area and several bedrooms. It would make it easy to house squads together. There were even married quarters, for Wardens or staff I wasn’t sure, but it gave me hope that with the changes Avernus promised, one day the Keep would be fully utilized again. I could almost close my eyes and picture the place, full of Wardens, servants scurrying everywhere trying to keep food on the table. I could see the same expression of hopeful longing on Tomas’ face, and I knew he was picturing the same thing.

 I knew at some point I was going to have to have a conversation with Tomas about the Grey Wardens. Everything I’d seen or read indicated that the First Warden was a political figure, the true power behind the throne in the Anderfels, yet somehow the rest of the Wardens were supposed to stay out of politics. They were hiding secrets that really needed to be shared, and I got the impression they were more than happy to leave Ferelden for the Orlesian Wardens to manage, which wasn’t helpful. Regardless of their intentions, Fereldans would never see anything but Orlesian influence when they looked at the Wardens if that continued. Something needed to change, and I hoped Tomas could be made to see that. I wondered what the First Warden would do if the Grey Wardens in Ferelden simply did their own thing.

 I put it off. I couldn’t handle another fight, in case he disagreed. I wasn’t entirely clear where he stood on the Wardens, whether he would go along with anything that came from his chain of command, or whether he would make his own decisions. I decided to wait to find out.

 Leliana claimed me for the afternoon, and we spent a while hauling and heating water before each having a bath. Once clean and dressed, we met in her room and she combed out my long, curly hair for me. She was respectful, but I knew she was hoping for information about Alistair and me. I’d have called it gossip, except that I knew she would keep anything I told her confidential. I didn’t get into the details anyway – I was sick of crying – and she let me know that although she was disappointed that our love story had ended badly, she supported my decision not to be with him. She was angry on my behalf, which was sweet, and didn’t want to see me hurt by him again.

 I was surprised – she was usually all for second chances – but she told me that though she would still hope something would work out, she wasn’t going to expect it. In her words, he would have to earn it. I smiled sadly; I didn’t even have enough hope in me to think that was possible.

 That evening, I was lounging around the main room of our little wing of the keep when Alistair approached me. I was careful to keep my expression neutral, but I avoided eye contact. I couldn't bear to show how deeply I was hurt.

 "Sierra?"

 "Yes?"

 "Can we talk?"

 I paused to try to control the angry retort; I was successful, but even I cringed at the coldness of my tone when I replied. "I think everything that needed to be said, already has been, don't you?"

 In my peripheral vision, I could see his face redden. To his credit, he didn’t respond to my ire with venom, but kept his tone respectful. "Please?"

 I sighed and scrambled up from the floor, just as Aedan approached. "Absolutely not! You're not going anywhere alone with him."

 I waved my hand restlessly. "It's okay, Aedan. I'll be right back. I can handle this." His expression was unhappy and anxious; he watched me walk away with Alistair with narrow eyes.

 We left the wing everyone was in and found a small nearby sitting room, also devoid of furniture. Alistair made a fruitless attempt to clear away some dust with just his hand, and finally gave it up as a bad job. I settled against a wall, facing sideways to him so I could continue to avoid meeting his gaze.

 "I don't...I don't really know what to say," he started. "I can see that you are angry and hurt, and I deserve that, I know, but...couples fight, don't they? Can’t we, I don’t know, talk about it? There’s got to be a way to get past this. It seems like you’re just giving up."

 "A fight? That's how you see what happened?"

 "How do you see it? You kept something from me, and I was angry; I lashed out and hurt you. We are both to blame."

 My hands clenched. "I see it as a great, big sign that says that you are so self-absorbed that you refuse to look at anything from my perspective. You didn't ask why I didn't tell you earlier. You just made an assumption, without giving me any benefit of the doubt, and chose the worst possible motivation you could think of to run with.

 “I don’t regret not telling you. It wasn’t a decision made to manipulate, but rather to avoid hurting Aedan. How did you think he’d react to learning he could just as easily have died in Highever? It didn’t change anything, because the situation was what it was. Going over what might have been would only have hurt him. As it did, because I didn’t think through the consequences of that damned video.”

 He looked thoughtful. “I never thought about it like that.”

 “I know. That’s my point. You are willing to assume that I would be that manipulative, that I would lie to you and hurt you on purpose. That’s not love, Alistair. You can’t love if you don’t trust. I am well enough aware of my shortcomings to know that I have trust issues. I've spent a lifetime trying not to care about anyone so they couldn't hurt me. I never dreamed that I'd fall in love, I never felt worthy of love, and you've just completely cemented that for me. I should have listened to that inner doubt all along. It was right."

 His expression was shocked, his face pale after my outburst. He looked dazed, actually, and incapable of speech.

 I turned towards him, hoping he would listen. "You love the idea of love. You love that someone loved you. But you never trusted me, not really. Even at his worst moment, Aedan never believed that I kept information from him maliciously; he was angry at the implications of what he'd learned, but did not think I was trying to hurt him, to use him. He knows me well enough to know that I never could. You didn’t trust me enough to believe I had my reasons. I know that some people would do what you accused me of - use information to manipulate feelings and accomplish a goal, but you should have known that I am not one of those people. You’re supposed to know me better than anyone. To trust me. Why would you love someone you didn’t trust? The answer is obvious. You didn't."

 He didn't respond, and I muttered under my breath in the silence. "No one ever has. I should have known. Instead, I trusted you. And look where that got me."

 He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his face. “Are there other things you haven’t told me?”

 “Yes. Some of them to protect you. Some of them because they don’t matter; they will never come to pass as things stand currently. Some because, despite everything, I didn’t think you capable of this sort of betrayal.”

 “Will you tell me? Please?”

 “No. I won’t. There are reasons for me to keep some of the things I know to myself. Some of them are needlessly hurtful, to you or to others. Why bring up painful possibilities that we will never face? You aren’t the only one whose feelings I have to consider.”

 "I...I need to think."

 I nodded and stood. "You do that. Maybe next time you meet someone, she'll have better luck."

 He flinched, and the guilt tried to overwhelm me; I fled before he could say anything else. I cried a bit, wandering the empty halls, struggling to put it behind me. After a while of mindless wandering, I found myself in Avernus' lab. He looked at my red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, but fortunately did not comment. I wasn't sure what I'd have done if he'd said anything.

 "We are all ready to go for tomorrow morning," he informed me, and I nodded. "You might want to bring your friend. I think she would be helpful if...well, if anything happened. And she can explain to the others, so they understand-"

 "And don't try to kill you for revenge? Yeah. I know."

 "See you in the morning, then?"

 I nodded and took my leave, suddenly exhausted. The toll of the emotional strain over the last week had taken a lot out of me, and I could barely keep my eyes open. I stumbled back to my room, not saying a word to anyone. Alistair was lying right outside my door, as usual, but he didn't look up when I walked by. Aedan followed me in as I collapsed onto my bedroll and closed the door.

 "Are you okay?"

 I wrapped my shaking arms around my knees, burying my face. "I don't know. Maybe."

 "I was worried you'd do something stupid."

 "Not me. Worry about Alistair. I'm a survivor. I will eventually be okay."

 "Sierra..."

 "Aedan, do me a favour tomorrow? Distract him for me? Keep him away? He keeps following me around like a puppy that I've kicked. He's been sleeping beside my door. I can't take it anymore. Please? I just need one day. Can you and Tomas keep him away for one day, please?"

 "Fine. I'll take him down to the training grounds or something. Don't blame me if he ends up with another black eye."

 "Oh, that reminds me." I struggled up, my limbs feeling like they were made of lead. I went out to the main room, then wandered into the room I knew Wynne had been sleeping in.

 "Wynne?"

 "Come in, child."

 "No, I'm heading to bed. But listen, would you do me a favour?"

 "Anything."

 "Heal Alistair's eye? I'm flattered that you're so angry with him on my behalf, but we need him in fighting form. He can barely see out of that thing. I don't know why he didn't use a poultice."

 "Because they don't work well on eyes, dear." She huffed. "Fine, I'll do it. I don't normally approve of much that young woman does, but she certainly had my blessing for that."

 I grinned. "Thanks, Wynne."

 I left her room and headed down the hall to where Morrigan was staying, separated from everyone by several empty rooms. She looked up in irritation when I entered, but her expression eased when she saw it was me. "Do you need anything?"

 I nodded. "Would you come with me, tomorrow? In the morning?"

 "I would be honoured."

 "Thanks, Morrigan. Goodnight."

 I finally headed back to my room. Alistair's eye was no longer bruised and swollen, I noted as I passed. He must have known it was me that asked Wynne; he smiled at me gratefully. I looked away and went to bed. Prince slept with me again, but I was restless; upset, hurt and angry with Alistair, and nervous for my Joining in the morning. Not many, if any, Grey Wardens Joined knowing the risks, but I knew all too well. I cuddled Prince and tried not to think about it.

 In the morning, after breakfast, true to his word, Aedan grabbed Alistair, Zev, and Tomas and convinced them to do some training. When she found out there was an archery range, Leli joined them. I waited until they left, and then Morrigan and I got up and left together to 'go for a walk'.

 We headed up to Avernus' suite, and found the old mage already awake and ready to go. He had a chalice filled with God knows what - well, actually I had a good idea but I didn't want to think about it. First he made me drink another one of his blood-building tonics so he could take my blood immediately afterwards, and then we had to wait while he put the finishing touches on the Joining potion.

 "Morrigan, you can't let them kill Avernus. If I die, you have to stop them until they promise. I entered into this freely, don't let them punish him for it."

 "Die? Whatever are you talking about?"

 "Look, we don't have time. Suffice it to say that not everyone survives. Please, you have to promise me. I need to do this."

 She studied my face for a while, then turned to Avernus. "If she dies, I will try. But know that you will have made very important enemies with this bargain." He nodded.

 Finally ready, Avernus stood in front of me. "You know how this goes. I will say the words, and then you will drink."

 I nodded, taking a deep breath. _My last one as a normal person_. I indicated that I was ready.

 "Join us, sister. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day, we will join you.

 "Sierra, you are called upon to submit yourself to the taint. May the Maker have mercy on us both."

 We heard noise out in the hallway; voices. Aedan's, and Tomas'. We were out of time.

 "Hurry, Avernus."

 He handed me the chalice, and I looked down. The smell of death and blood and corruption washed over me, and I struggled not to gag.

 The door opened. Aedan, Tomas, and Alistair entered from the far end. I quickly turned to Morrigan.

 "You have to stop them Morrigan. Remember your promise."

 She nodded and turned to the doorway, muttering under her breath as a shimmery barrier blocked the men's progress. I turned back to the chalice, but I could still hear the men as they took in the scene, the gasp when they realised what I held.

 Aedan cried out, "Sierra! No!"

 Tomas might have said something, but I didn't even hear it. I locked gazes with Alistair, his expression horrified; I raised the chalice to my lips, tilted back my head, and drank.

 


	58. Architect of my Own Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably the last update before I start playing Inquisition...don't be surprised if there's no update for a week or two!

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Architect of my Own Future

 I locked gazes with Alistair, his expression horrified; I raised the chalice to my lips, tilted back my head, and drank.

 Pain was all I could think about; it took over my mind, blowing away my identity, my sanity, my everything in its wake. And then I dreamt. I could see darkspawn; dozens, hundreds, a whole horde of them, marching. I saw a dragon, enormous, purple, and malevolent, breathing purple flames. I heard murmuring, like a whole lot of people were talking too quietly to hear the words. Then I could hear some sort of music floating over it all, a faint melody and a rhythm that matched that of the murmuring, hauntingly lovely, teasing me.

 The next thing I knew, it was quiet, and I was dreaming of somewhere dark. A small, dim light flared, and by the wavering illumination of a single candle, I could see a lone darkspawn. It was an Emissary, that much was clear by the once ornate headdress and the tattered robes, but it was a good deal less revolting looking than its brethren. Its face was almost human, though looking slightly melted, but its skin was grey and mottled, like the rest of the darkspawn. It had long, bony fingers tipped with black claws. It was sitting, which seemed strange, in an armchair, with a book in its lap. I stared at it for a moment in confusion, before it looked up. Our gazes locked, and it felt like I was zapped with a bolt of electricity. By the way it jerked in the chair, it felt the same connection.

 It stared at me for a few moments in turn, and then finally spoke. “Well isn’t this interesting. You are not supposed to be here. I sent you away, did I not? Far, far away. And yet, here you are.”

 I tried to speak, but couldn’t. _Talking darkspawn? Son of a…_

 It continued. “No matter now; my reasons for wanting you gone have passed, but it is curious indeed that you found your way back here. Perhaps some visions cannot be changed.”

 It seemed to sigh, and then with a wave of its corrupted, spindly arm, my sight went dark.

 ******** 

I opened my eyes to see my hospital room. My doctor was standing over me, looking haggard. Two nurses who looked terrified stood at his side. He noticed my open eyes, and leaned down to look into them. I tried to move, to sit up, but I couldn’t even feel my body, never mind move it.

 “Seizures again?” He sounded so disappointed in me.

 I tried to shrug, to respond, but couldn’t. All I could do, as my eyes drifted shut again, was think. _Sorry_ …

 ********

 I couldn’t see, but suddenly I could feel again. I could feel my throat burning, my mouth dry and vile-tasting. I could feel my head pounding, my muscles tensing rhythmically. One arm ached, and I could feel the cold stone floor beneath me as I flopped around.

 And then sound returned, and I could hear. There was a voice, one that seemed familiar, but it took a bit of struggle to swim through the haze and be able to make sense of the words I was hearing.

 “…Why do you think, simpleton? She did it for you.” The voice was higher pitched than normal, but I finally placed it. Morrigan. I felt ridiculously proud of that accomplishment. “She wanted you to be able to have a life. A delay in your Calling, whatever that is. A return of fertility so that someday you might breed little bastard princes to carry on your precious line. And thanks to you, I must maintain this damnable ward instead of being able to check on her.” Her tone sounded worried, almost cracking on the last words. I hoped she was okay.

 Someone else said something, and I wasn’t able to make out the words; they came from further away, and I could feel the rumble of them more than hear them.

 “I must have your word that you will allow the mage to live. I promised her. Give me your word that he will survive, and I will drop the barrier.”

 More rumbling, and then I felt a soft hand on my forehead, and breath against my cheek. “She lives.” I felt Morrigan’s magic flare, and something warm travelled through me. “I cannot do anything for her.”

 I finally identified Aedan’s voice. “But why is she convulsing? That didn’t happen to me, did it?”

 I felt a steady pressure on the sides of my head, and the pounding receded a little. “I’ve never seen this before, and I’ve witnessed dozens of Joinings. Morrigan, please, we must see Avernus. We must know what he has done. Obviously something is wrong.” That was Duncan. _No, Tomas. I remember now._

 “He said he did not know anything about this. You heard him. And he has his own ward up now, I cannot do anything about that.”

 “So what do we do?” Aedan sounded frantic.

 “We wait.” Tomas’ voice was thick with some sort of emotion. I wanted to comfort them, but I couldn’t move.

 “If she wakes up, I’m going to kill her,” Aedan swore. “She had no reason, and no right. I’ll strangle her with my own hands.”

 Alistair spoke. “Um, from someone who’s done something rash lately, can I suggest you wait and talk to her first? Maybe she had her reasons. Just because she didn’t tell you doesn’t mean there isn’t an explanation. Assuming she wakes up, that is.”

 I felt an entirely unwanted warmth towards Alistair in that moment.

 “What about Wynne? Could she help?”

 “We must not tell her. It’s bad enough Morrigan knows as much as she does. People are not supposed to know how dangerous the Joining is.” Tomas sounded pained. I hoped he wouldn’t get it into his head to try to kill Morrigan – or recruit her.

 Morrigan spoke. “Sierra said…that one of the things Avernus was changing would save lives. I am guessing now that she meant the number who would die during the Joining. I believe she may have motivated him to find a way to make it safer.”

 “You said something about that before. What all did she have him change?”

 “I do not entirely know; she only involved me to help with one component, which was to decrease Grey Warden infertility. She said she thought if Grey Wardens could have families, children, that it would be less of a burden, and recruiting would be easier. I assume the same can be said for fewer deaths during the Joining.”

 Alistair’s voice finally joined the conversation. “She’s always trying to help. It’s…I’m an idiot.”

 Aedan laughed sarcastically. “You’re just realising that now?”

 “That’s enough. Now isn’t the time.” Tomas sounded like a strict parent. I’d have grinned if I had any control over my face. “I don’t…Aedan, Alistair, could you go over there for a moment?” There was a brief pause. I got a mental image of Aedan giving Tomas a dirty look. “Just for one moment. Not even out of line of sight. Please.”

 I heard footsteps, and then another pause. “That’s…strange.”

 “What is it?” Aedan asked from across the room.

 “Stay there. I’m coming over. Morrigan, would you stay with her, please?”

 More footsteps. “How many Grey Wardens can you sense in this room? Both of you.”

 Another pause, and then Aedan answered. “I can feel Avernus over there somewhere, you, and Alistair.”

 “Alistair?”

 “Same. Avernus, you, and Aedan.”

 “Exactly. We cannot sense Sierra.”

 “Should we be able to already?” Aedan sounded even more worried.

 “I could sense you from about five seconds after you swallowed,” said Alistair.

 “What does that mean?”

 I heard footsteps as they came towards me again. It felt like I was flopping less, and the pain was finally receding.

 “I have no idea. Except for one thing. We cannot tell anyone, and I mean no one, that she is a Grey Warden.”

 “Why not?” Alistair sounded offended.

 “Because Weisshaupt will want to study her. To understand why she does not seem to bear the taint. They will become too interested in her origin. They have the authority and the ability to take her away and never let her leave. Believe me.” Tomas sounded bitter and I knew he was thinking of Fiona. “I must have your word. All of you. And we will convince her when she wakes.”

 The three agreed. Tomas said he’d speak to Avernus later. I’d stopped seizing, if the lack of flopping sensation was anything to go by. They tried to decide what to do with me. Morrigan told them about the room I’d slept in before with the little couch, and the next thing I knew, someone had lifted me. I could tell by how he cradled me it was Alistair – it felt as it always did when he carried me, and even in my confused half-asleep state, I was briefly nostalgic before the heartache came crashing back down on me.

 My head was clearing and thinking seemed easier, but I still had no control over my body. I expected to be placed on the couch, but instead Alistair sat down and kept me in his lap. I felt hot, and nauseous, and cranky.

 “She’s sweating a lot, Tomas. I think she has a fever.”

 Aedan volunteered, “I’ll go get some water and get some of her clothes for when she wakes.” The door creaked, and he was gone.

 Tomas said, “As much as possible, we must act as though nothing is wrong. No one can suspect. I think we should all go back to the others and go about our day; if anyone asks, just say Sierra is spending her day with Avernus.”

 “I’m not leaving her.” Alistair briefly held me closer to his chest.

 “Fine. But the rest of us must go.”

 There was a bunch more footsteps, and then quiet. After a few minutes, the door creaked again and Aedan was back, briefly. Alistair shifted me, then brought a cool, damp washcloth to my face and gently began wiping it, ridding me of the sweat I could feel on my cheeks and forehead. Aedan left again, and all was silence. Eventually I drifted off to sleep.

 I dreamt of darkspawn again; this time it was the horde, not the lone talking darkspawn. I woke with a start and realised that I was still in Alistair’s arms. I concentrated and managed to open my eyes briefly. The room was dim, but I could just see his face.

 “Alistair?” My voice was hoarse, and cracked with use. He brought a waterskin to my lips, and I drank greedily. “What…” I briefly tried to struggle; all I succeeded in doing was wiggling slightly.

 He cut me off. “Look, you can hate me later all you want, just let me take care of you, okay?” He wiped my face again with the cloth.

 I slumped back into his arms, too tired to fight it, and fell asleep again.

 When I woke, I was lying on the couch; I briefly missed being in Alistair’s arms before berating myself for that sentiment. _He’s not mine anymore. Better get used to it._ I was a little more awake, and I managed to keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds.

 I found Aedan sitting on the floor at my side, watching my face.

 “Aedan?”

 “It’s okay. You’re safe. What do you remember?”

 “A lot, actually. I remember the Joining, and then the dreams, and then you were all talking about me while I had seizures, and then Alistair carried me in here.” I looked around. “Alistair?”

 “Sleeping. I finally had to drug his water. He wouldn’t leave.”

 I didn’t want to think about that. “How long have I been here?” I struggled to sit up, and Aedan helped me until I could lean back on the arm of the couch.

 “A day. A little more, maybe. Your Joining was yesterday.”

 “That sucked.”

 “Yeah, about that. What the hell were you thinking?” He kept his tone more-or-less polite, but I could tell he was much angrier than he let on.

 “I was thinking that I could get Avernus to delay your Calling, restore your fertility, and prevent unnecessary deaths from the Joining. The price was me becoming a Warden and allowing Avernus to take my blood.”

 “A price you shouldn’t have agreed to pay. I didn’t want this for you, Sierra! And you lied to me, yesterday. You used me. Asked me to keep Alistair away from you, but really you just didn’t want me to find out.”

 “That was the second reason. The first was still true.”

 He growled, and I sighed. “You would have tried to stop me. And you probably would have killed Avernus. Maybe Morrigan too.”

 “Damned right I would!”

 “Thus why I lied to you.”

 “I am going to kick your ass, Sierra.” It seemed the Earth vernacular was going around.

 “That wouldn’t be very hard, given how crappy I feel at the moment. Wait, I remember now. You guys were talking about me being different.”

 “We can’t sense you, like we can each other. Or darkspawn.”

 “But…does that mean the Joining failed?”

 “We don’t know. Tomas has never heard of this, and neither had Avernus. And there’s no reason you should have been having seizures, or unconscious for a day either.”

 “But wait. I had the dreams. Oh, Maker. Aedan, I need to talk to Tomas. Right away. Alistair too.”

 “Why? What’s wrong?”

 “I think I met the Architect.”

 It took a few minutes for Aedan to find Tomas and wake Alistair; it was difficult to stay awake, but I managed. They needed to know.

 Finally they filed in. Aedan sat with me, and Tomas and Alistair sat on the floor. I told them about the ways I’d had Avernus alter the Joining formula. Tomas was intrigued, but worried that the changes were why it didn’t work. Alistair was horrified that I’d risked myself to achieve those gains. Aedan already knew, but added in that Avernus had admitted to also including in his formula something that would increase strength, health, and stamina even more than normal, as well as the odd abilities mentioned in the downloadable content in game. I was likely more able to dodge, and could use my own tainted blood as a weapon coating. Assuming my blood was actually tainted.

 Then I told them about my dream. Tomas agreed that it seemed likely the Architect was involved. He had told Aedan and Alistair a little bit about the talking darkspawn, but not the details. We filled them in on the gist – he was a sentient darkspawn, somehow exempt from the Call of the Old Gods, and he sought to free his brethren as well in whatever way he could, regardless of the consequences for humans.

 Tomas’ expression was one of anger and disgust. “It had a plan to force all humans through the Joining to become Grey Wardens, and my former Commander had been tricked into helping it. The fact that it would leave more than half of the population dead, the taint spreading everywhere, and the humans that survived all-but-completely infertile didn’t seem like a negative side effect to it at all.”

 I added, “It also had a plan to find the Old Gods and kill them, so a blight could never happen again – which of course, is why we’re having a blight. It succeeded in finding Urthemiel, but instead of killing it, they tainted it.”

 I also told them about the events of Awakening, where he developed a new plan – to make the darkspawn undergo a Joining using Grey Warden blood. The facts that the results could be unstable – hence the Mother – and that it would take a river of Grey Warden blood to give every darkspawn the Joining were not a deterrent, as usual.

 Tomas swore, which was unusual for him. “I’d hoped it was dead. That was two decades ago. More. How long can that creature survive?”

 I shrugged. “No one ever said.”

 Tomas sighed. “So, you think it caused you to be born on Earth?”

 “Seems that way. It said it sent me ‘far far away’. It sounded like it had some sort of vision that I would ruin a plan of his.”

 “But if you had darkspawn dreams, it would seem the Joining must have worked.”

 “And I’ve had more since then, just generic dreams about watching the horde, things like that.”

 “Perhaps something about how it sent you to Earth explains your reaction to the Joining?” I shrugged helplessly. “And maybe your repetitive transitions, as well. So despite us not being able to sense you, you are indeed a Grey Warden.”

 “I…think so?” My stomach growled, as if to agree, and we all laughed.

 The three men exchanged looks. Finally Aedan spoke.

 “Sierra, we talked about it, and…”

 “You don’t think we should tell anyone. I heard you.”

 “You don’t look pleased, but you’re not shouting at me. I don’t know what to make of that.”

 I stuck my tongue out at my brother. “Look, I’m not stupid. I have no desire to be a lab rat in Weisshaupt.”

 “Lab rat?” Tomas looked confused.

 “Uh, yeah on Earth, if people are doing research on stuff, they try it on animals first to see how safe it is. Rats, frequently.” He looked revolted, and I laughed. “Yet you eat rabbit.”

 “So you don’t want to be a lab rat…” he prompted.

 “That said, after everything, I’d like to just be a normal Grey Warden. I feel like the dirty little secret. It’s not how I saw this being, if I survived.”

 “Sierra…”

 “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

 Tomas stood, reaching over to pat my shoulder. “We know what you are, and that’s what’s important, isn’t it?”

 I sighed. “Only if you take advantage of the improved formula.” _And let me fight. I’ll keep that argument for another day._

 Tomas appeared lost in thought. Aedan looked angry. To my surprise, Alistair just caved.

 “I’ll try it first.” He must have seen the shock on my face. “We would have to be stupid not to, wouldn’t we? I can’t say I was looking forward to going into the Deep Roads on my Calling. And if it can also make me more effective…why wouldn’t I? That said, we should try one at a time, in case something goes wrong.”

 Aedan glared at him, but Tomas nodded slowly. “Very well, but Alistair will go second. I will go first. I’m closer to my Calling, and living on borrowed time anyway. Assuming it works, you two will do it too.”

 Alistair and Aedan both tried to object, for completely different reasons I was sure. Tomas just gave them a stern look, which silenced them both. He left, then, and came back a few minutes later carrying the chalice. The smell made my throat start to burn again.

 With one last look at each of us, Tomas took a swig, then handed the chalice to Alistair. In mere seconds, he screamed, falling to his knees and holding his stomach as his eyes rolled back in his head. The screaming went on for an eternity, before finally ending. Tomas slumped down, his eyes returning to normal, and then slowly, painfully worked his way to his feet.

 “Well, that was unpleasant. I’d almost forgotten that sensation.”

 I tittered, slightly hysterical. He smiled at me. “I’m alright. I don’t know if I’m any stronger, but it doesn’t seem to have done any lasting damage.”

 Alistair sighed. “My turn then.”

 The entire thing was repeated twice more, for Alistair and then for Aedan. While they both did the screaming and the creepy eye thing, they both recovered well.

 Once we were done, we tried to decide what to do with me. I was still too weak to walk, and I couldn’t be seen by anyone until I was more normal. When I asked what they’d told everyone the night before, Alistair’s cheeks coloured.

 “Aedan told them you were avoiding me, and that I was avoiding everyone else.”

 “Can we go with that again? Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be better?”

 Alistair sighed. “Fine, whatever. Everyone is mad at me anyway.”

 Tomas put his hand on Alistair’s shoulder apologetically. He just shrugged and turned to go.

 “Alistair?”

 He paused, not looking back.

 “Thank you. For staying with me.”

 He nodded uncomfortably and then took off. I let him go, and Tomas followed him out.

 


	59. Adjustment

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Adjustment

 “I’ll stay, if that’s okay.”

 “Only if you get a bedroll or find another couch and get more comfortable. I won’t have you sitting up all night.”

 “Yes, mother.”

 I stuck my tongue out again, and he laughed.

 Morrigan dropped in to say hello while Aedan was away gathering things. We chatted amiably for a few minutes, and then I managed to work my way around to thanking her for her help. She was embarrassed, I think, and while she looked pleased, her face got red and she left shortly after. I shook my head, wishing I could bring Flemeth back momentarily to slap her. _No one should be raised like that. Foster care was better._

 I dozed for much of the afternoon, then slept all night thanks to another of Avernus’ sleeping draughts. I planned to try to convince him to teach Wynne to make them before we left. In the morning, I felt better than I had in a long time. I felt refreshed, and luckily hadn’t dreamt, so my energy level was quite high. Aedan, by contrast, looked tired. He’d refused to take a sleeping potion in case I needed him in the night, and I imagined the floor in my little room wasn’t the best place to sleep. Between that and the worry I’d put him through, he definitely wasn’t at his best. I hoped we could stay one more day, and try to get him rested before we headed out.

 I walked back down to the area where everyone else was, and was welcomed warmly. I spent the day sitting with each of my companions for a while, even Shale and Dariel. I was glad to get to know the elf a little bit better; he seemed like just a nice guy, who had also grown up in less than ideal circumstances. It started me thinking, and I realised – Aedan and Gorim might have been the only two of my companions with a good childhood. Even Levi had been telling stories of a drunken, embittered father who could never get past the fact that the Drydens used to be nobles. Shale didn’t remember hers, of course, and Sten thought his was fine, but I knew he’d missed out on something too.

 My chat with Gorim was enlightening. Of course, we ended up talking about Riana. He missed her, it was obvious. I think he was somewhat surprised by just how much. When I apologised, he waved me off.

 “It was my choice, and hers. Not yours. And honestly…it wasn’t going to work out, long-term. She was eventually going to get sick of me dreaming about Sereda, even if they were nightmares of her dying in the Deep Roads, and I was going to resent her for keeping me from knowing what happened. My guilt was eating us both alive. Of course, knowing it would have to end doesn’t make it any easier.”

 I glanced over at Alistair, and then away. “No, it doesn’t.” I cleared my throat. “So tell me about Sereda.”

 “What do you want to know?”

 “Well, what sort of person is she? I know Trian – and Harrowmont - were all about tradition. Bhelen is much more for trying to modernise, but at the cost of being a sleaze. Where did Sereda stand?”

 He thought. “She was the middle child in disposition as well as birth order, I think. She recognised that things in Orzammar needed to change or we were going to be in trouble, but she also didn’t think that just allowing the casteless to work and surfacers to return home was going to make sense. Most of the casteless can’t even read, and fewer can fight – what sort of work would they be suitable for? What about the criminals? And the current members of each caste would never be okay with a brand stealing their business. It would start a civil war. She thought that there needed to be a plan in place to educate and train the casteless, give them some skills first and then allow them to work. And she thought that any child of a cross-caste union should be enough to elevate the caste of the lower-caste parent, not just a same sex child. She thought Orzammar needed a big boost to its birth rate, and encouraging breeding through trying to improve one’s caste has always worked in Orzammar, but this would open it up more. She even talked about incentives for cross-caste marriage. Like paying a dowry for casteless women, for example.”

 I thought about it, and it made sense. In Earth history, whenever slaves were freed, there was always an increase in social disorder for a while, because there were often more slaves than masters, and that many uneducated, unskilled citizens with nothing to do could wreak havoc on a society and an economy. Someone needed to feed the former slaves, and someone still needed to do the work, and it took a few decades for that to work itself out. If the dwarves did it more slowly, it might improve things. It was worth a shot, anyway. Bhelen’s plan to just ‘free the casteless’ had never made sense to me.

 “So, say she had to choose between Bhelen and Harrowmont, who would she pick?”

 He didn’t even hesitate. “Bhelen.”

 “Really? But…he killed Trian, and maybe even Endrin; he had her exiled. Would it be just the blood she’d want to keep going? Maintain the Aeducan name?”

 “Actually, she’d have been reluctant to admit it, but she’d have been proud of him getting her exiled. I’d never have thought Bhelen capable of it. But dwarven politics are cut-throat, and she knew that – she’d have taken his betrayal as a sign he was ready to take part in the game. She’d be less understanding about Trian and Endrin, but…if the choice was stagnation, or Bhelen? She’d take Bhelen.” His expression was decidedly sour.

 “And you?”

 “Harrowmont. I understand why Sereda would feel that way, but if our King has no honour, then what exactly would be the point? She would make fun of me for that, I know. Honour is less than useless if your society dies out, I suppose.”

 “I’d have to agree with her there.” I thought I just might like Sereda, if we ever found her.

 **

 Morrigan had taken to making scathing remarks at Alistair, reminiscent of the game, and after the fiftieth time she’d implied he was stupid, I’d had enough. He wasn’t even trying to defend himself, and it was too pathetic to listen to anymore. I finally had to drag her aside and talk about it.

 “Look, I’m flattered that you’re angry with him on my behalf. But really, please, just knock it off. He’s not stupid. Leave him be.”

 “What gives you the idea he is not? He brought this upon himself.”

 “Like I said. I’m pleased we’re friends enough for you to be so clearly on my side. I’m angry with him too. But being nasty isn’t helping. It makes me want to defend him, and then I realise I don’t want to defend him, and then I get all tied up in knots thinking about it. I’d rather not think about it, if it’s all the same to you. So please. Give it a rest.”

 She sighed. “Fine. I’ll just go back to avoiding him.” Her expression said she was contemplating setting him on fire.

 “I think avoidance would work, yes.”

 **

Leliana, Zev, and Wynne were far more interested in talking about me and my former love life, than anything else. I didn’t linger long – it hurt too much, and I had no desire to dredge it all up. I assured them all that I was fine.

 It was a lie, and we all knew it.

 I couldn’t mention that he’d spent the other night holding me. I still didn’t know what to think of that. Was it guilt? Did he feel responsible for me Joining? Morrigan had blamed him for me going through with it. We’d avoided talking since then, and I had no plans to change that anytime soon. I just didn’t not know how to handle the storm of emotions inside me. Between anger, and hurt, and sadness, and loneliness, and guilt I didn’t even know where to start. Avoiding him just seemed better.

 Aedan had gone back to bed, and everyone else seemed to be trying to pretend nothing had happened, and that we weren’t all acting strangely. I was oddly grateful.

 Tomas informed us of a change of plans. He decided that we would leave the following day, but instead of heading to Orzammar directly, we were making a side trip to Redcliffe first. He thought that it would only add about two weeks to our travel, including a few days spent in Redcliffe, if we were willing to hike cross-country down to the Circle Tower. From there we could take a boat across Lake Calenhad to Redcliffe. He’d coerced Avernus into giving him much of the Keep’s supply of Archdemon blood, and had him write down the ritual required to assemble the new and improved potion. He wanted to swing back and pick up Solona, as well as recruit Jowan. I almost giggled as everyone looked to Aedan for confirmation before agreeing. Even Tomas had a wry smile, and I winked at him when he looked at me.

 He again asked Dariel to think about whether he’d like to Join, and gave him until we arrived in Redcliffe to decide. Dariel asked some pointed questions, which Tomas refused to answer; I still thought keeping so many secrets was a poor recruiting strategy. Once we’d proven the decreased death rate with the new Joining formula, I planned to try to talk Tomas into being more open about it. The only secret needed would be that a Grey Warden would perish to slay the Archdemon – but I hoped to convince him to at least tell Cailan – or rather, Theron that. We didn’t need the idiot looking for glory again trying to slay the Archdemon personally.

 The evening was quiet and we all turned in early. I slept alone, and actually managed to sleep. In the morning, after packing up, we bid goodbye to Avernus and left the Keep. Levi was coming with us to the base of the pass, then planned to get word to his family and bring them up to start getting things organised. Aedan had surreptitiously slipped the man some money to find a couple of extra servants and some furnishings so things would be more comfortable the next time we returned. _I would be happy if they just dusted the place._

Without mentioning it, Alistair took my pack like he used to, and just walked off. I stared after him for a few moments, uncertain what to think. But then it occurred to me: guilt. He figured I wouldn’t be able to keep up if I had to carry my pack, and felt guilty that our break-up would slow the group down. I followed behind, feeling a little more despondent, if anything.

 The hike down the pass was interesting – it led through a bunch of tunnels, like Levi had said, and it was a bit of a rat’s maze. _No wonder the demon had to help Levi find the way._ The group had the foresight to make a mark at every intersection with some charcoal, but it was clear a more permanent way of marking the correct path would be needed.

 It was cold, which was not a surprise, and I found myself wearing almost every piece of clothing that I owned to try to stay warm. I didn’t have gloves (other than the leather armour, which didn’t help much) or a toque, so I pulled my hood up over my helmeted head and wrapped my hands in the excess fabric of my cloak. _I’m glad I grew up in a cold climate. Zev looks miserable._ The poor elf was huddled in all of the clothes he owned too, and couldn’t seem to stop shivering. Sten looked entirely unaffected, though I figured that was mostly bravado. Everyone else was more like me – not happy, but managing.

 The further we got from Soldier’s Peak, the warmer it got; due to altitude, I assumed. By the time we met Bodahn and bid Levi goodbye, we were all back to normal clothing. _Everyone in game mentions Ferelden being an especially cold country, but it hasn’t been that bad so far. Maybe I’m just used to it. Canada isn’t exactly tropical._ I had been told we were coming in to the fall season, so it was going to get colder, and likely soon. I resolved to find somewhere to buy a toque. And wool gloves.

 There was a noticeable difference for me in how difficult it was to keep up with everyone. I hadn’t realised it before, but everyone had slowed down a bit for me, and they didn’t need to anymore. I felt more and more convinced that the Joining had worked, but that something the architect had done to me prevented other Grey Wardens from sensing me. I wondered if the darkspawn would be able to. We wouldn’t know until we met up with some, and I was also interested to see if my new stat boosts (I cringed, thinking about it in game terms, but couldn’t come up with a better term) would make me a better fighter, too.

 At camp, when we finally stopped, I asked Aedan to spar with me like he used to. It had been quite a while since I’d trained, and I needed to get back into it. To my surprise, Tomas offered instead. He stood and grabbed a small shield without even a sword, and then dragged me off to an unused area with decent footing.

 I had no idea how to fight someone with a shield, it occurred to me. Aedan and Zev had taught me how to counter the things another dual-wielder would do, but I had never fought someone with a shield. At first, Tomas just blocked and watched me. I tried all the things I would normally use against Aedan, but all he had to do was lift his left arm, and I’d jab my dagger against a shield. I did get in one decent throw – like Wayne had taught me, no one ever expected it – but then he learned to avoid that, and I was done.

 After that, he began giving me instructions as I struck. He had me trying to occasionally spin or drop low, both of which mostly resulted in me falling over, but he was teaching me to feint. I had to make him think I’d hit him somewhere, but then spin and hit somewhere else instead. And he knocked me onto my ass with his shield over, and over, and over. He was much less forgiving than Aedan.

 After a bit, Aedan came over and tried to stop us. His jaw was clenched, and I knew he was angry at Tomas for being too hard on me. But if I was going to be a Grey Warden, even if in secret, I was damn well going to try to act like one. And that meant knowing how to fight. Being coddled wasn’t going to teach me what I needed to know.

 I told Aedan to piss off. _I am done being feeble._

 When Tomas finally quit kicking my ass, I was sore. Not like the pain after the Joining, or when the dragon roasted me alive, but certainly worse than anything else I had experienced. I limped over to the fire, and when I sat to eat, Wynne began casting without even asking first. After the pain of the first bruises eased off, I didn’t have the heart to object, and just sighed in relief. And I didn’t pass out, for which I was grateful. I gave the motherly mage a hug and kissed her cheek, and she chuckled at me. I wolfed down my supper like I hadn’t eaten in a week, triggering a cheeky grin from all three Wardens; I rolled my eyes.

 After supper, Aedan, clearly still furious, motioned to Tomas and dragged him off into the bush a ways. Alistair got up and joined them, without being invited. I waited a few minutes, torn, but I knew damn well they were talking about me. I finally stood and followed their tracks.

 I hadn’t intended to eavesdrop; my plan was to join in the conversation, but when I heard the first angry words hissed under Aedan’s breath, I froze.

 “…don’t know what you thought you were doing, but you’re going to go back there and apologise, and tomorrow when she asks, you will let me work with her.”

 I’d never heard Aedan use such a haughty tone before, to anyone. I was appalled.

 Tomas replied, his voice soft, and I had to edge closer to hear it. “…said she would be coming with us into the Deep Roads. Unless you relish seeing her as a broodmother in your nightmares for the rest of your fifty years as a Warden, she needs to be able to at least defend herself.”

 Aedan released a string of largely unintelligible swear words. “I was teaching her that.” It was a whine. I almost laughed; I would have, if I hadn’t been so annoyed at Aedan.

 Alistair’s retort was also quiet. “Aedan, you did teach her. But you know this – if the person you’re sparring with isn’t going to hit you, there’s no impetus to get any better. I’m willing to bet whoever trained you hit you. A lot. How many times did you have to be healed after sparring? The templars training me kept poultices in every pocket. I’m not saying we have to beat her, but she’s a Grey Warden now. She needs to be trained, and the trainer needs to be able to hit her.”

 “You’re so good at hurting her, Alistair, you should train with her.” I could practically hear Tomas flinch, but Alistair didn’t say a word. “What the hell, anyway? You don’t want her in the fighting any more than I do.”

 “I don’t, but it’s not my choice to make, Aedan. Nor yours. She was wrong about me not loving her, though I have been an ass and totally self-centred. I am learning that if I ever want her back, I need to pay attention and try to understand her better, not repeat the same mistake of thinking every decision she makes is about me. What you’re really angry about is her taking the Joining. Maybe it’s time you decide to respect her decisions and stop trying to be her father. She’s a big girl. Let her live her own life, for once, would you?”

 I eased away, then, not eager to be caught eavesdropping and too stunned by what I’d heard to know how to react. I wandered, purposelessly, through the brush around camp, out of sight but within yelling distance. Alistair was trying to make it up to me? I wasn’t sure that could ever work, but the fact that he even wanted to was a surprise. I could still see the disgust on his face when he called me a monster. I just couldn’t reconcile the two facts. And he defended me against Aedan, when even I knew Alistair would also rather I hadn’t Joined, and wasn’t going to be fighting.

 I finally headed back to camp as the daylight started to wane, no less confused than before. I found everyone polishing armour, sharpening blades, and all the other frequent maintenance required to keep a fighting force efficient. Aedan and Alistair were nowhere to be seen. I was exhausted after all the fighting and the healing, and I wanted my bedroll. When I went looking for canvas to set up my own tent, Leliana approached me.

 “You already have a tent set up, Sierra.” She pointed at a small tent a little ways from the fire.

 “Oh, thanks, Leli. That was sweet of you to think of me.” I gave her a quick hug.

 “I appreciate the gratitude, but it’s misplaced. Look again, yes?”

 I looked back at the tent, uncertain what she was trying to say. I stared at the smooth canvas, the single central pole, which instead of standing straight upright…canted just a little bit towards the front. _Alistair. Son of a…_

 “Maker’s breath. I don’t…I can’t even…” I sighed, rubbing my face. _It’s already set up, bet my bedroll is even laid out. I might as well use it._ “I need sleep. Goodnight, Leli.”

 She grinned at me and nodded. I crawled into the little tent, dropped onto my bedroll, and fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.

 In the morning, by the time I was ready to go, breakfast was already cooked. I headed to the fire to eat before packing my things, but before I’d taken two mouthfuls of porridge, Alistair was packing my stuff, had my tent disassembled, and tucked my things with his own packs. Bodahn was going the long way around Lake Calenhad, and we planned to meet him on the highway between Redcliffe and Orzammar later; I was sad not only for the lack of the cheerful dwarf’s company, but also his cart to carry all of our things.

 When we had all finished eating and bid Bodahn goodbye, Alistair picked up my things, once again, and walked away. I growled in frustration, but dealing with it meant talking to him, and I was far too confused for that. _Too angry, still, if I’m honest with myself._ We proceeded quite quickly through the northern section of the Bannorn, making good time on the flatter, less forested ground. The group was subdued, hardly anyone speaking, and when they did, it was in whispers.

 When I asked Aedan about it, he shrugged. “What did you expect?”

 I was confused. It must have been obvious by my expression.

 “Sierra, you’re the bubbly positive one. You and Alistair always kept everyone laughing. Like this…well, you’re not exactly bubbly right now. It rubs off on the rest of us.”

 I looked down, feeling guilty. “I’m sorry.”

 “It’s not your job to always be that person, Sierra. We will adjust. Stop blaming yourself.”

 After that I paid attention more, noting how everyone kept accidentally talking about things and interrupting themselves if they bordered on anything related to Alistair and me. I sighed, unsure how to fix it. I just couldn’t be that happy, carefree person I had been. Alistair, on the other hand, was leading the group alone, staying ahead of everyone, never looking back. His shoulders were stiff, his posture defeated. Tears threatened to spill again, unexpectedly, and I couldn’t be sure if they were due to grief or guilt. I wiped them away, and turned away to walk alone again for a while.

 I tried, later, to drag Aedan into a discussion about my training with Tomas, but he just refused to talk about it. Frustrated, I let it go.

 


	60. Surprises

Chapter Sixty: Surprises

 We finally stopped for supper, and I immediately claimed Tomas for more sparring. This time, Aedan watched from the sideline, mouth closed in a thin line, expression disapproving, but at least he didn’t try to stop us. After a few minutes Zevran and Alistair joined him, but they instead tried to be helpful, shouting out instructions and suggestions. When I had a hard time understanding what they were trying to say, Zev would demonstrate with his daggers against Alistair with a shield. I was still embarrassed to be beaten that badly by Tomas when he wasn’t even using a sword, but I was getting better at dodging the shield bashes. I wasn’t quite as bruised, when we finished, though I still couldn’t deny the relief I felt when Wynne healed me.

 When I looked around at supper, I noted that my tent had again been set up for me, still with that forward cant that indicated the identity of my benefactor. I sighed. I knew I should have confronted him, but I just didn’t want to talk about it. I finished supper, excused myself, and crawled into my tent early, heart aching.

 I found my bedroll set out, my things carefully tucked into my pack, Alistair’s cloak rolled up to make a pillow. On top of my bedroll was a sheet of parchment, loosely rolled, and my phone.

 I put my phone aside, and decided to change before looking at the parchment. Once in a loose fitting tunic and pants, I crawled into my bedroll. It was dark – we had stolen a couple of the arcane lamps from Soldier’s Peak, but not enough for everyone to have one in their tent. I rolled to the side, hoping the firelight would be enough to read by, but finally ended up using the light from my phone.

* * *

 

  _Sierra,_

_I know that nothing I say can ever express how sorry I am, for everything. I’m an idiot, and I’ve always known that, but I never thought even I would be stupid enough to hurt you like that. I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I have to try. Because as much as you might not want me to be, anymore, I am yours even if you won’t be mine. You said you hoped that when I met someone else she’d have better luck, but the fact is that I won’t meet anyone else. I don’t want to._

_I want you to be happy, whatever it takes. I would like to be the one who can help you with that, but I will understand if you find someone else. I will still be here, helping in any way I can, even if that’s just setting up your tent or carrying your pack, hoping to prove myself eventually._

_I will say that if you do find someone else, I hope it won’t be my brother. I cannot stand to think of the way he would treat you, and I’d be forced to kill him if he betrayed you._

_Anyway, when Leliana was listening to music earlier, I heard a song on that little machine of yours that seemed appropriate. It’s all ready to go._

_I love you, always._

_Forever yours,_

_Alistair_

* * *

 

 I wiped away the tears that fell while I read, a couple of them splashing onto the parchment. I read it several times, before finally turning my attention to the phone. When I turned it on, I just hit play without looking at what he’d chosen. A voice came blaring out of the speakers, and I rushed to turn down the volume so no one would hear what I was listening to. I realised after a few seconds that the song was “I’m Sorry” by Breeze-E, something that an online acquaintance had sent to me after discovering it on Youtube.

* * *

 

  _Memories I just can't erase, I'll do anything to see your face_  
 _What if I said that I believed in you and me_  
 _A part of me that I just can't replace, I'm lost and I was gone without a trace_  
 _I just find it hard to breathe without you near_

_And now I'm stuck in this maze_   
_Cos baby you were everything, now I'm left with nothing_   
_How could I let you go, I gotta let you know_   
_That baby you were the best thing_   
_And now I'm stuck in this maze_   
_Cos baby you were everything, now I'm left with nothing_   
_And if you didn't know baby I love you so_   
_I wish we made this a good thing_   
  
_Baby girl I wish that I didn't walk away_   
_I wish that I could tell you I'm sorry_   
_Cos baby I need you, baby I need you, baby I'm sorry_   
_Baby girl I wish that I didn't walk away_   
_I wish that I could have you here today_   
_Cos baby I need you, baby I need you, baby I'm sorry_   
  
_So baby tell me what I'm supposed to do_   
_Is there a chance that I can get close to you_   
_Girl I swear that I will do anything_   
_Like a petal on a rose baby you're so beautiful_   
_Listen girl I was foolish_   
_What kind of man in his right mind would do this_

* * *

 

 I turned the music off and collapsed on my bedroll, bawling my eyes out. He thought he loved me, but I didn’t really believe him; still, just the thought of it broke my heart all over again.

 I slept poorly, crying on and off as I tried to doze. When I finally gave up on sleep, it was dawn, and weak light was filtering in through the canvas. I changed into my armour and crawled out of my tent.

 Tomas was up, adding wood to the fire so he could start breakfast; I settled down beside him, and he smiled sadly at me.

 “You alright?”

 “No, but I will be. Eventually.”

 “Of that, I never had any doubt.”

 I grinned, and helped put the porridge on the fire. The smoke was rather thick, as all the wood was damp; I guessed it had rained at some point in the night while I fitfully slept.

 “Did you get some sleep, Tomas?”

 “I did. Alistair was on first watch. I took Aedan’s as well as mine. I think he could benefit from some time and rest.”

 “It’s going to be weird when we can all use your real name again. I’m more used to you as Tomas than…you know.”

 He smiled. “You think it will be strange for you – I almost don’t remember my real name.”

 “Tomas…I want to start helping with watch. My stamina is better now, I should be able to help out.”

 He examined me for a few moments, and finally nodded. “Once we’ve established that you can sense darkspawn, I agree. Can you wait until we know for sure? I don’t want us surprised if it turns out you can’t.”

 “How long does that usually take?”

 “A few days after the Joining to sense them at all, but years to get good at it. The biggest thing is to find some darkspawn for you to sense. There haven’t been any up in these parts yet.”

 “Shouldn’t I be able to sense you?” I concentrated, on what I wasn’t sure, but I could feel nothing unusual.

 “Not yet. The taint isn’t as strong in a Warden as in a darkspawn. That will come with time.”

 I agreed to wait. Once the breakfast was made, I gobbled down a bowl, cleaned it out, then wandered out of camp to do my business out of sight of any of my companions. After that, I packed up my tent, and was waiting when everyone else was ready. I decided to take the lead, for once, and gathering my stuff, I took off at a brisk walk heading to the south-west, as per my compass. Tomas and Aedan always seemed to just know what direction we were heading, but I was loving the little magnetic pocket compass.

 I hadn’t gotten very far when Alistair caught up to me, snagging one of the packs I carried and slinging it onto his own shoulder. He didn’t even speak; he just dropped back, obviously allowing my avoidance, and I let him go. At least he’d left me with one bag to carry. I balanced it across both shoulders and carried on.

 I gave the phone to Leli when she asked; it was still almost fully charged, and we hadn’t touched the new charger I’d brought with me the last time. She gave me a soft smile when she saw what song had been playing, and I wondered if she knew that Alistair had left it for me. She walked with me for a while, discussing my music preferences; I had everything from country music to rap to classical to Broadway show tunes. A lot of my music was pop from the 80s and 90s; when I first began collecting music, before MP3 players came out, I could only afford second-hand CDs. I developed a taste for retro music that never left. Even the recent music that I liked was often stylistically more ‘retro’.

 She was shocked that I knew so many songs. In Thedas, I learned, most people knew a handful of folk songs unless they were actual musicians. But having free radio, back on Earth, I knew the words and the tune to hundreds of songs, even if I couldn’t exactly perform them with any skill. Leli started testing me, and no matter what song she chose off my phone, I could at least sing a little. She shook her head, amazed.

 The rest of the day was the usual; walking, and more walking. A few of my companions walked with me for a while, and while I was appreciative of their company, I wasn’t, as Aedan put it, bubbly. It seemed to make everyone uncomfortable; no one knew what to say. So after a while, each would drop back again, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

 I could feel Alistair staring at my back, and that made me uncomfortable. Without talking to him, however, I couldn’t tell him to stop, so I put up with it. I knew eventually I was going to have to end my childish avoidance, but I wasn’t ready. Between my residual anger, my heartache, my loneliness, and the confusion from my accidental eavesdropping and his letter, I just wasn’t ready to talk to him. About anything.

 After sparring with Tomas again, I curled up next to Aedan by the fire. I didn’t need healing this time; I’d gotten better at avoiding Tomas’ shield, though I’d still failed to land a hit. Aedan put his arm around me, and I felt better than I had in a while. I’d been afraid he would be angry with me for doing what he didn’t want me to – sparring, putting myself in harm’s way even though he knew Tomas wouldn’t really hurt me. I enjoyed the contact, and when dinner was served, and he took his arm back, I kissed his cheek. He grinned at me in return.

 After supper, I wandered out of the camp for a little while, not wanting everyone to feel awkward with me sitting there quietly. I found a little clearing with a view of the sunset, and leaned against a tree trunk to watch. I stiffened when I heard the rustle of someone approaching, but relaxed when I saw it was just Wynne. She stopped beside me and watched the sunset silently for a few moments, then settled down in the long grass expectantly.

 I sighed and slid down the tree trunk to sit facing her. “I suppose this is where you tell me it’s a good thing that we’re not together anymore.”

 She examined my face briefly, before answering calmly. “No, it isn’t, child. Quite the opposite, in fact. I admit I was nervous, at first, about Aedan’s relationship and yours with Alistair, but I also admit that you were right. I changed my mind. You and Alistair are good for each other. You helped him be confident, trust himself and his abilities, and try to make his own decisions. He helped you open up, and relax, and find some self-worth. I’m very sorry that you are both so unhappy. He made a mistake, one he regrets, and he is paying for it. I hope that one day you can forgive him for that. It would be a shame for you two to be apart forever because of a stupid lapse in judgement and self-confidence.”

 I was shocked – so far Wynne was the only one who was hoping for us to get back together, and she was the one I figured would be the most pleased about the split. My expression must have been disbelieving, because she chuckled.

 “I’m not so old that I cannot admit my mistakes, but I am old enough to be a bit sentimental. Besides, if even your Commander approves of his Wardens having relationships, how could I not?”

 “Thanks Wynne. I don’t…I’m not sure what will happen. He says he wants to be with me. He’s apologised. I just don’t know if I can forgive him. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at him and not see that expression of disgust on his face. He truly believed, even if only for a day, that I could betray him, that I might be using him for personal gain. I don’t know how to get past that.”

 “Perhaps, dear, you could start by taking him off the pedestal you’ve had him on since you arrived? You loved him as a character in a performance. He isn’t that character. He’s a real person, with talents and flaws all mixed together. People make mistakes. Characters don’t. Perhaps you need to start thinking of him as human, not some infallible creation, and it will all come together for you.”

 She patted my shoulder, rose gracefully, and left me to think.

 When I stumbled back into camp an hour later, I found Alistair leaning against a tree near where I’d been sitting. He had respected my privacy, but remained close enough to hear if I needed anything. He didn’t look up at me as I walked by, just let me pass and then headed into his own tent. Which, I noticed, was a distance away from everyone else’s, but close enough to mine that he’d be able to hear me in the night. When I thought about it, I realised it had been that way the last few nights. _Which means he’s been hearing me cry myself to sleep. Marvellous._

 I bid Aedan, who was on watch, a goodnight, and crawled into my own tent. I managed to keep from crying, though Wynne’s words were ringing through my head as I tried to sleep. _He’s only human. But he was supposed to trust me._    I fell asleep, fully dressed, still confused.

 I woke with a scream from a dream of darkspawn and death, only to hear shouting and the clanging of metal; I realised this must have been the shriek ambush I’d expected earlier. I grabbed my daggers and crawled out of my tent. In the dim light of the pre-dawn morning, I could see dark figures weaving through the camp. Alistair was holding off several with his shield, and Aedan and Tomas fought back-to-back; everyone else seemed only to be a target if they got in the way between darkspawn and Warden. And the ‘spawn were completely ignoring me.

 I took advantage of their lack of awareness, and sank my daggers into the flank of a shriek that was heading towards Leli, the arrows protruding from it making it obvious how the bard had gotten its attention. I pushed the corpse off my blades and turned towards the next one, which was trying to cut Alistair down with its wicked claws. It also did not see me coming, and I got the chance to backstab it and its friend, distracting them enough that Alistair decapitated one and cut deeply into the neck of the other. He nodded to me briefly, then swung around to parry another shriek’s claws.

 By that time, the fight was winding down; I helped Tomas cut down two more, a shriek and a genlock, when I realised that I could feel something coming. It was similar to the sensation when you could tell someone was watching you, but creepier. And while the shrieks and genlocks had all had a little bit of it, this sensation was bigger. I only knew of one thing that would fit the description; one glance at Tomas’ wide-eyed expression, and I knew I was right.

 “Ogre!” I screamed. I didn’t get a chance to do much else, as Tomas shoved me aside, hard, and then turned to face the monster as it lumbered into the camp. I landed in Zev’s arms in a pile, and the assassin held me down. Alistair stepped up beside Tomas, and as I watched, Aedan disappeared into the shadows. Before I even had a chance to stand, our mages had slowed the ogre down, Leliana had put an arrow in its eye, Alistair had held his shield up through an assault that I thought would have left a crater in the ground, and then Tomas and my brother were swarming it, strategically cutting tendons and bleeding it with slices into major arteries. It was a war of attrition, but it was obviously one the wardens were going to win. Everyone else stayed back, trying to avoid the arterial spray spreading in a wide circle around the beast. Finally, with one last roar, the ogre sank to the ground and didn’t move again.

 It was suddenly deathly quiet, everyone listening frantically to determine if there were further ambushers; everyone except me and the other Wardens, that was. I could clearly feel no further taint nearby, so presumably the others felt the same; when I looked, Tomas was wiping black ichor off his sword, and Alistair had already begun piling bodies near the ogre. Aedan came over and hugged me, smiling gratefully at Zev as he handed me off. I was briefly irritated – I knew damn well I wasn’t capable of fighting an ogre, I wouldn’t have jumped into that fray, and it bothered me that everyone assumed I needed someone to hold me back. I scowled at Aedan, and he flushed slightly, obviously aware of how condescending he was being.

 Tomas stayed out of it, though I sent him a nasty glare for pushing me down; Alistair, on the other hand, looked at the corpses I’d helped him create, murmured “Nice job!” under his breath, and otherwise left me alone. I was confused and impressed and just slightly sad all at once, and I had no idea what to do with that insane swirl of emotion, so I suppressed it ruthlessly.

 We all packed up our camp, as no one wanting to stay near the site of the ambush to try and sleep more; Morrigan fired the pile of darkspawn, and we were on our way.

 As we walked in the dim light, we all discussed the ambush.

 “Did…did you have a nightmare too?” Alistair asked. Aedan nodded, as did I. I was unsurprised to learn that Tomas hadn’t been sleeping – I doubted he’d closed his eyes since we’d left Soldier’s Peak.

 “Was the Archdemon…looking at us?” Aedan sounded freaked, and I couldn’t blame him.

 “Yes. At least, the performance implied as much, and it sure as hell felt like that.” I tried to make it sound normal; I failed, I was fairly sure.

 “Sierra, I thought that we were going to be ambushed by shrieks. Not ogres and genlocks as well.” Tomas sounded irritated, like I’d kept the information to myself for some reason.

 “Hey, don’t look at me. In the performance, it was only shrieks.”

 “Maker, how did an ogre even get here fast enough to ambush us like that?” Aedan was a little more matter-of-fact about the little details than the big picture. I could understand that. _The big picture is bloody frightening._

 Alistair replied wryly, “I’m just going to assume the ogre happened to be nearby, and so the Archdemon took advantage of that. Otherwise, I’m never going to sleep again. Like, ever.”

 I couldn’t have agreed more. A hysterical giggle escaped me without my permission, and Alistair smirked at me briefly, before dropping back to walk beside Gorim. Tomas looked from him to me, frowning slightly. I just shrugged and avoided eye contact.

 It was a long day of walking after such an early start; Tomas figured we were probably a little more than two days from the docks for the Circle Tower. We skipped sparring for an evening, everyone tired from the ambush and early start. I put up my own tent, feeling ridiculous and somehow defiant, especially ridiculous when it sagged a bit. I negotiated with Tomas about sitting watch – clearly, I could sense darkspawn – and he gave me the last one of the night.

 Something had been bothering me for a few days about going back to the Tower, and I finally decided I needed to know.

 While we were sitting eating dinner, I asked, “Wynne?”

 “Yes, dear?”

 “Look I know you’re not going to be happy, but…do you know where Anders is, right now?”

 She gave me a sharp look by firelight. “How do you know Anders?”

 “Same way I knew Solona. Though I probably know Anders better. He is in the performance, of course.”

 “Why do you want to know?”

 I sighed. “Look, is he in the Tower, or not?”

 She grimaced. “Unless he’s escaped yet again, I imagine he’s still confined in the basement.”

 “Solitary? You mean dungeon, not basement.” The elderly mage nodded, having the decency to look at least a little bit ashamed. “How long?”

 “He should have another six months or so, I think.”

 I thought furiously. He must have been doing his year of solitary after his sixth escape; his next would bring him to Vigil’s Keep. I wondered if there was any way to keep the tragedy that was Anders in seven or eight years from happening; getting him out of the Tower sooner couldn’t hurt. I turned to Tomas, who’d been watching with a carefully neutral expression.

 “When we get there, how’d you like to pop in unannounced on your good friend Greagoir?”

 He smirked, so I knew he’d caught my sarcasm. “I suppose we can make time for a brief social visit.”


	61. Recruitment Plans

Chapter Sixty-One: Recruitment Plans

 Wynne looked about to object, so I signalled her to stop and follow me. We went just a little ways out of camp, her judgemental gaze never leaving me as we walked. I held my hand up to forestall her.

 “I know. You don’t approve. You don’t trust Anders, because he keeps trying to escape. Honestly, the only thing that surprises me is that there aren’t dozens of escapees. Wynne, you have to admit, the Tower is hard on young mages. Some templars abuse their power, and not everyone was raised religious, they don’t get the same comfort from faith that you do. Some of those kids remember their families, and they didn’t all have bad experiences. You can’t expect everyone to accept being locked in a tower with good grace. Even you won’t stay there when there’s another option.

 “Look, I know Anders. I know exactly what he’s capable of, both for good and for bad. I think there’s a chance that if we catch it now, and do it right, we can avoid much of the bad part I mentioned. If we wait, he will still end up a Grey Warden, only his animosity towards the Chantry will have increased by that much more by then. Please, trust me. I’ll vouch for him. I’ll take personal responsibility for what happens. Please, Wynne. Will you help me help him?”

 She looked thoughtful, but eventually nodded unconsciously even as she asked, “If he succumbs to blood magic or a demon, will you use your templar abilities to stop him?”

 “He won’t. He hates blood magic even more than you do. But yes, should he become an abomination, I will do whatever is necessary to stop him.”

 “Very well. I shall not stand in your way, but I will not recommend his conscription either.”

 I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

 She patted my cheek and grinned. “Cheeky child. I’m old enough to be your grandmother.”

 “Not where I’m from, unless you and Avernus have more in common than I’d expect. Not even here – Rhys isn’t that much older than me, I’d think, unless my math has issues. Will you ever tell me actually how old you are, anyway?”

 “No.” She didn’t hesitate, and her tone brooked no argument. I had to laugh; apparently that vanity was the same among all women, whether mage or lady, elf or human, from Earth or from Thedas. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards at my laugh, and we headed back to camp together.

 I pulled Tomas aside, gesturing at Aedan and Alistair to join us. I told them the basics – Anders was a mage, a healer, who was very unhappy in the Circle and currently serving a year in solitary for recurrent escapes. Eventually he would end up at Vigil’s Keep when the darkspawn attacked and would be recruited. I didn’t tell them about Justice, or Anders eventually leaving the Wardens – I was still hopeful that some of that could change. In fact, I was hoping to keep Kristoff alive, and perhaps, with luck, Justice would never leave the Fade. Telling everyone about all of the possible bad outcomes seemed somehow cruel to Anders; he should have a chance to be a Warden without everyone prejudging him for things he wouldn’t do of his own accord.

 The three Wardens seemed to sense that I wasn’t telling them the whole story, but I didn’t give them much chance to pry. I sure as hell wasn’t going to explain me romancing Anders in DA2; explaining that there was a DA2 had been difficult enough, back in Denerim. Though a small, petty part of me wanted to tell Alistair in hopes that it would hurt him. I quashed that part ruthlessly; I was not going to turn into some harridan because I was spurned.

 “So, anyway, you’re going to have to use the rite of conscription. Greagoir’s already mostly convinced he’s a maleficar; he will never let him go otherwise.”

 Tomas looked thoughtful. “I will need Irving to help. And probably something to use as a bribe.” Alistair’s face turned red, and Tomas hurriedly explained, “For Irving, not for Greagoir. Aiding me in this is going to give him a lot of trouble; it would only be fair he demand something in return.”

 We all thought about it, but it only took a second for me to realise I had exactly what he’d need. I took a few more seconds to try to think about the ramifications, but couldn’t come up with a better option.

 “I know what to give him.” At Tomas’ questioning look, I continued. “Greagoir too, for that matter. What does a mage like Irving value more than anything? Knowledge. I can tell them about Avernus’ theory on templar abilities. And I can show Greagoir my abilities, promise to teach him once the blight is over. It’s something they’ll both want – Irving will be willing to help Anders, I suspect, since he’s the one who keeps convincing Greagoir not to execute him; add in a little knowledge and the chance to see the dumbfounded look on Greagoir’s face when he learns the Chantry doesn’t know everything? No problem.”

 Tomas looked intrigued, and even Aedan’s expression was slightly impressed. Alistair, on the other hand, was furious. “Are you mad? I know you’re angry with me, but is it really bad enough to justify a death wish? You go in there and show Greagoir what you can do, he may never let you leave. And if you think having templar abilities will be enough to prevent them from assuming you’re a mage when you disappear, you’ve got another thing coming. They’ll torture you to determine where you learned your skills. There is absolutely no chance you are walking in there and showing off. None.”

 My face had become more and more flushed as he spoke, but I controlled my temper enough to avoid screaming right back at him.

 “Alistair, you are not my father, and you have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do. Everything is not always about you! You will back down this instant, or so help me, I will throw you out of the boat in full plate when we get there. I am a big girl, and I make my own decisions, isn’t that what you said? Stop being a hypocrite then, and put your money where your mouth is. It’s fine and dandy to agree with me when you also agree with my decision, or it’s too late to change it. But the minute you disagree with something I plan to do, that all falls by the wayside, doesn’t it?

 “I am aware that Greagoir will have suspicions when we meet. I am prepared for that. I will simply tell him the truth. I don’t actually believe he will have me tortured; he’ll throw me in a cell, at the worst, and then I’ll just have to wish to go home and I’ll be fine.” A frown appeared on Aedan’s face, and Alistair grimaced. I didn’t stop to inquire. “If I never go back there, they won’t be able to do anything to me. He can bring in Tanar to verify my story, and Irving can tell him about whatever it was that I did up in the Harrowing chamber. It will help if we take Wynne with us; Greagoir trusts her. She won’t help us free Anders, but I know she will protect me.”

 Tomas spoke up. “We will bring enough of a force to the meeting to give them pause should they wish to take Sierra. In addition to which, if it becomes necessary, I will tell them she is a Grey Warden. We will have them come over to shore for the meeting, bringing Tanar and Irving and whoever else Greagoir feels needs to be there. We can do this safely, Alistair. And if it means we recruit another mage, especially a healer who happens to be male…we are going to need all the help we can get in the Deep Roads. We cannot take Wynne with us.”

 Alistair ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it and making it stand up. He reminded me of a little hedgehog, with his bristles all standing on end. I almost laughed. Finally he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Fine. Just…fine. I’ll be the first to admit I was wrong if this works out well. But I’ll also be there to say ‘I told you so’ when you’re planning a jailbreak.”

 Aedan smirked. “As long as you help with the jailbreak, I agree.”

 “You joking? A chance to poke the Chantry in the eye? Wouldn’t miss it.”

 “I have a question.” Three pairs of eyes swivelled to me expectantly. “I want to tell Greagoir about Meredith. About the situation in Kirkwall. I feel like the Chantry should have the chance to remove her on their own.”

 Tomas smiled. “I didn’t hear a question.”

 I rolled my eyes dramatically. “What do you think? Is it a good idea?”

 Tomas considered. “I don’t see that it could hurt. The worst that will happen is they ignore you, and Kirkwall remains unchanged.”

 Aedan added, “And if it would help, it seems worth it. She sounds like a real nightmare.”

 Alistair spoke very quietly, “I met her once, I think, in Denerim. You said the red Lyrium is what’s going to push her over, but I’m not convinced the push needs to be very big. She’s a zealot, and she hates mages. Making them Tranquil seems positively moderate for her. But they won’t get rid of her. Templars are never dismissed, rarely punished; at worst they’ll shuffle her somewhere else.”

 “But if that gets her away from the mages…she could be a fabulous bodyguard for the Divine, or something. Anything that keeps her out of a Circle.”

 He sighed. “I have no objections. Less templar abuse of power is better. Like Tomas said, the worst case is that nothing improves.”

 After that, we finally said our goodnights and headed to bed. Tomas took me aside briefly as I was getting up. “Sierra…you don’t have to sleep alone, if you don’t want. I can make room for you in my tent.”

 “Are you propositioning me, Warden Commander?” I smirked at him and raised one eyebrow suggestively.

 He sputtered. “No! Maker.” He put his face in his hands, and I wondered if I’d even be able to see a blush against his dark complexion.

 “Shame. Another time, perhaps?”

 He glared at me, and I laughed. He growled, “Be serious! I know you find it difficult to sleep.”

 I stopped laughing, suddenly very serious. “I do. But I will learn. It’s time to stand on my own two feet, Tomas.”

 “That’s why the sparring? And wanting to take a watch?” I nodded. “I can respect that. Fair enough. Just know the offer is open should you need a friend.”

 “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 When I got into my tent, I found that someone had adjusted it to make it stand better. I was annoyed, but mostly at myself for not being able to put up a tent properly. When I saw my phone in the middle of my bedroll, I sighed. I changed, then sat down to meditate and try to find some inner calm before picking the thing up.

 I turned it on and found a note written in the notes app, to my shock. It was brief and to the point.

 _I’m_   _sorry. I won’t stop worrying about you, but I will try to stop being your father. I said try, because I know I’m not perfect, and I’ll screw up again, I’m sure. You won’t believe me, but I’m aware it’s not about me. I promise._

_This song is for you. Just so you know. And that one line? I’ll never move on, but if you need to believe it, I will let you._

_I love you._

_Forever,_

_Your Alistair_

 

I sighed again. I wasn’t truly that angry at Alistair for his outburst – he was right, and I could be in danger at the Tower, and I didn’t expect him not to worry. I did, however, expect him not to treat me like a child. It seemed he got the message, though how long that would last was anyone’s guess.

 I closed the app, and started the music playing. I had the presence of mind to check the volume first, this time, and so when the first strains of music flowed out, no one would be able to hear but me. I flopped back on the bedroll and closed my eyes as I listened to the sweet voice of Dido singing White Flag.

                 _I know you think that I shouldn’t still love you, or tell you that_

_But if I didn’t say it, I’d still have felt it, where’s the sense in that?_

_I promise I’m not trying to make your life harder or return to where we were_

_But I will go down with this ship_

_And I won’t put my hands up and surrender_

_There will be no white flag above my door_

_I’m in love, and always will be_

_I know I left too much mess and destruction to come back again_

_And I’ve caused nothing but trouble, I understand if you won’t talk to me again_

_And if you live by the rules of it’s over, then I’m sure that that makes sense_

_But I will go down with this ship_

_And I won’t put my hands up and surrender_

_There will be no white flag above my door_

_I’m in love, and always will be_

_And when we meet, as I’m sure we will_

_All that was there will be there still_

_I’ll let it pass, and hold my tongue_

_And you will think that I’ve moved on_

 

 I cried, again. And then I was suddenly angry. What right did he have to drag my emotions over the coals, again and again? I scrubbed the tears away angrily, and rolled over to try to go to sleep. I wasn’t successful; I laid there and stewed, frustrated and angry, until I had a thought. I sat up, grabbed the phone, picked a song, and set it up to play. Relieved that I had found a come-back, I finally slept.

 I had the last watch in the morning, and while I was still tired, my Warden stamina was more than enough to allow me to overcome it. When I thought about how bad my stamina had been before, I was embarrassed. Shale was up, as she always was, and we had a quiet conversation while we waited for everyone else to wake. She told me golems didn’t sleep, which I assumed, but that she could do something akin to meditation, where she could clear her mind and just watch the stars, or the fire, for hours without being bored. It was a good thing; I couldn’t imagine being awake all night, every night, while everyone around me slept.

 I made breakfast, and people started stumbling out of tents when the smell became obvious. I’d sliced and fried up some of the jerky, as though it was bacon, to have with the porridge, and I knew I could rely on Warden appetites to do the rest. Once everyone had their fill, we packed up to get moving. Alistair, to my annoyance, grabbed my tent from me, tucking it with his own, and stole the heavier of my two packs as well. _At least he let me pack my own things, for once._ I growled at him, and he smirked in my direction before walking off. Leliana actually giggled at me, and I flipped her the finger. The confused look was priceless, but not quite what I’d been going for. I sighed and followed after Sten, grumbling to myself quietly.

 At some point while walking, Aedan pulled me to the back where no one else could hear me.

 “Home?” he asked.

 “What?” I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

 “Last night. You said you could wish to go home, and you’d be free from the dungeon.”

 “Uh. Oh, I didn’t even notice.”

 “So is Earth home, now?”

 I could see anxiety and insecurity on his face. “No. With you is home. Really, I just don’t exactly know what to call it. ‘Where I’m from’ gets to be a mouthful, and I don’t know of a word for the place you grew up but isn’t home anymore.”

 “So given the chance…”

 “You mean, if I got to pick? Stay here, or stay back there for good?” He nodded. “Here, without a doubt. Alistair’s an idiot, but he’s not going to chase me away from my family.”

 Aedan smiled, a wide, joyous grin, and took my hand. I squeezed it, and we walked like that for the rest of the day.

 That night we took up sparring again, and Tomas beat me around a small clearing near camp, though I managed to avoid all but a few bruises. He praised me, and then told me he was going to start using a sword next time. I almost cried – in fear. If I’d been in that much pain the first time from just his shield, I couldn’t imagine what would happen when he used a sword. Aedan watched, but didn’t even glower.

 After supper, I heard Alistair say he was heading off to a nearby stream to clean up a little. The other men immediately joined him, but Leliana confronted them before they could go and insisted on rock-paper-scissors to decide whether the men or the women got to bathe first. Leliana won, as usual. _I wonder when they’re going to realise she always wins? She’s like a mind reader. She could make a fortune in Vegas._ The men grumbled, but sat down to wait while Leliana, Morrigan, Wynne and I headed down to the river. Prince joined us, and we took the opportunity to wash blood and Maker-knew-what else out of his fur, much to his dismay. The stream was shallow and too cold for soaking, but we all managed to get more-or-less clean. Cleaner, anyway.

 When we got back to camp, I waited until the men headed out, and Leliana and Wynne weren’t looking, then ducked into Alistair’s tent – right beside the one he’d erected for me, as usual – and put the phone in the middle of his bedroll. I figured he’d know to push play, so I didn’t leave a note. After that, I crawled into bed. Apparently last watch was going to be mine semi-permanently, so early to bed sounded good.

 Sadly, my best-laid plans didn’t work out. It was too early, and I couldn’t fall asleep. I tossed and turned for a while, wishing I had my phone back. And then the men came back into camp; no matter how they tried, they weren’t that quiet, really. I heard Alistair shuffle into the tent next to mine, and I couldn’t help but try to listen for his reaction to the phone. I perked up my ears, and then heard the song I’d chosen start. It was the Dixie Chicks, and about as angry a song as I had in my playlist – “Not Ready to Make Nice”. There was a bit in the middle that didn’t really relate, but I thought he’d get the picture from the first verse and the chorus.

 

                _Forgive sounds good; forget, I’m not sure I could._

_They say time heals everything, but I’m still waiting._

_I’m through with doubt; there’s nothing left for me to figure out._

_I’ve paid a price, and I’ll keep paying._

_I’m not ready to make nice, I’m not ready to back down._

_I’m still mad as hell and I don’t have time to go round and round and round._

_It’s too late to make it right, I probably wouldn’t if I could,_

_Cause I’m mad as hell, can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should._

 

When the song stopped, all was silent from the direction of his tent. I, on the other hand, was on the verge of sobbing, again. _And this time the only one to blame is me._ I finally fell asleep with tears still streaming down my face.

 Aedan woke me before the first rays of dawn, and after putting on my armour, I crept out to the fire with my blanket still tucked around myself. I nodded to Shale gratefully as she brought over an armful of wood so I could build up the fire. The mornings were getting noticeably chillier. I debated repeating the previous day’s breakfast, but I just wasn’t in the mood. I was tired and dispirited. The Alistair situation was getting out of hand, and I didn’t know what to do about it.

 I sat by the fire and brooded until the others started rising. I actually found myself wondering what nickname Varric would have given me if he’d seen me, and decided ‘Sulky’ wasn’t something I was comfortable with. When everyone woke, I put in a concerted effort to be pleasant and light-hearted. It seemed to help, some. Everyone was smiling a little more, and despite red eyes with black circles under them, even Alistair offered me a small grin. I made a concerted effort not to scowl. I think it worked.

 I found my phone sitting on top of the pack I was being allowed to carry after breakfast. I tucked it in my pocket, determined not to look or listen where anyone could observe. When I finally got a quick break to pee in the bushes, I pulled it out, surreptitiously looking around before checking what song he had queued up. There was no note, this time; I didn’t push play – there wasn’t a song on the phone that I didn’t know the words to by heart, so just looking was enough.

 I’ve never been a huge fan of easy-listening music, nor of music from the fifties or sixties, but there was the odd song that I just couldn’t avoid. “(I can’t help) Falling in Love With You” by Elvis, for example, and the occasional Roy Orbison ballad; the song Alistair chose was one of that genre, though a much less popular piece overall – “I Will Wait For You” by Andy Williams. The words had always pulled at me, and this was no exception, as they ran through my head.

  _If it takes forever I will wait for you_  
For a thousand summers I will wait for you  
Till you're back beside me, till I'm holding you  
Till I hear you sigh here in my arms  
  
Anywhere you wander, anywhere you go  
Every day remember how I love you so  
In your heart believe what in my heart I know  
That forevermore I'll wait for you  
  
The clock will tick away the hours one by one  
Then the time will come when all the waiting's done  
The time when you return and find me here and run  
Straight to my waiting arms  
  
If it takes forever I will wait for you  
For a thousand summers I will wait for you  
Till you're here beside me, till I'm touching you  
And forevermore sharing your love

 

I managed to avoid releasing the tears that threatened. _Why? Why is he tormenting me?_ I shook my head to clear it, shoved the phone back in my pocket, and caught up to my travelling companions. I’m guessing my eyes must have been red-rimmed; Leliana gave me a curious look, and Aedan a sympathetic one. I pretended not to notice.

 By the time we camped, I was irritated again, and I hastily pulled out the phone before sparring with Tomas. I selected a song, tossed the offending device through the flap of Alistair’s tent, and stomped off to spar.

 An area for sparring had been set aside, but to my never-ending surprise, when I went over and readied my daggers, it wasn’t Tomas I was facing. Alistair stepped into the middle of the trampled grass, holding sword and shield in a defensive posture.


	62. Abandonment and Knighthood

Chapter Sixty-Two: Abandonment and Knighthood

 Alistair stepped into the middle of the trampled grass, holding sword and shield in a defensive posture. I wanted to refuse; I didn’t want anything to do with the bastard, and learning from him seemed impossible. But refusing would have opened it up for discussion, and I wanted that even less.

 I noticed that, purposely I assumed, only Aedan and Tomas were there to witness us. We were a little bit outside of camp, where those at the fire couldn’t see. I sighed and went on the offensive. I circled around Alistair, feinting a few times, testing his reflexes. He was fast; almost as fast as Tomas, and stronger to boot. I knew I couldn’t afford to get hit with his shield at all.

 My performance at first was lackluster; I was emotionally off-balance fighting Alistair. He didn’t even try to shield bash me, but it took no effort whatsoever for him to block my attacks. Tomas and Aedan tried calling out suggestions, even taunting me and calling me feeble, trying to get my temper up, to make me get serious. It didn’t work; I tried, but the more I thought about it, the less well I performed.

 After a bit of this, Alistair sighed. He dropped his sword and propped his shield up against a nearby tree, then turned his vulnerable back to me, unarmed.

 “Maybe you can hit me now? Give it a go, princess.”

 I knew in my head it was a calculated move to get under my skin; I knew it, but it still worked. Immediately my back went up, my temper now running the show, and I dropped into a more aggressive stance that Zev had demonstrated previously. I didn’t hold back; it was a good thing the blades had been enchanted to be dull – a blessing from Sandal, of course – because suddenly I was furious.

 I went on the attack, dropping low and aiming at his knees, spinning after an attack to begin a new one. I didn’t pull my punches; the enchanted blades didn’t pierce his armour, but I hit him hard, anyway, and I was leaving bruises if his surprised grunt was anything to go by. After the first few moments of me actually trying to hit him, he sprinted away and grabbed his shield. I didn’t give him time to grab his sword, or to properly equip the enormous bulwark, but just kept attacking.

  _Put your shield down with me, will you? Turn your back?_ I stabbed and spun, dropped and did it again at a different height, and he was forced to use both hands on the edges of the shield to try to block my fury. I didn’t even realise when any skill I possessed went out the window, and I was just stabbing uselessly at the by-now dented shield and sobbing in rage and hurt.

 Alistair didn’t move, didn’t try to stop me; he stood there and withstood it, let me hit him as hard and as often as I needed until the anger finally fled. I realised we were alone; Aedan and Tomas had obviously opted for discretion, and gone away. My exhausted arms finally fell to my sides and I dropped the practice daggers; I staggered back, out of breath and breathless both. _It turns out those are two separate things, one physical, one emotional. Who knew?_

 I didn’t bother to wipe the tears or stop them; I looked up at my former lover, dropped my shoulders in defeat, and finally spoke directly to him.

 “Why?” It was all I could think of to ask. I couldn’t get the rest of the words out. _Why did you break my heart, why did you walk away, what did I do to make you believe I could be that monster, why are you tormenting me now?_

 By the saddening of his carefully controlled expression, I could tell he heard the words I didn’t say. He took a deep breath and answered.

 “Insecurity. Not believing in what I had in front of me, not trusting you, but instead believing the lessons I learned in childhood. Stupidity. You name it, and the insult applies to me. And now? I just wanted the chance to say I’m sorry. And I am, Sierra. I know I will sound like the biggest idiot you can imagine, but I wasn’t actually trying to break things off with you. I was so absorbed in my own stupid feelings that I didn’t realise what that would look like to you, what not trusting you would do to you. And now, all I can do is be here and hope that I can somehow, eventually, undo what I did.”

 I turned away, speaking softly over my shoulder. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

 I saw him nod in my peripheral vision. “I’ll be waiting. Just in case.”

 I walked away without another word. I went straight to my tent, crawling in and collapsing on my bedroll. I barely managed to unbuckle my chest piece before I passed out.

 I didn’t hear anything for the rest of the night, but my subconscious must have been listening, because when the song I’d chosen was played in the tent next to mine, it haunted my dreams. I couldn’t remember the images when I woke, but the melody of Shania Twain’s “It only hurts when I’m breathing” was stuck in my head.

  _Hope life's been good to you since you've been gone  
I'm doin' fine now - I've finally moved on  
It's not so bad - I'm not that sad  
  
I'm not surprised just how well I survived  
I'm over the worst, and I feel so alive  
I can't complain - I'm free again  
  
And it only hurts when I'm breathing_  
 _My heart only breaks when it's beating_  
My dreams only die when I'm dreaming  
So, I hold my breath – to forget  
  
Don't think I'm lyin' 'round cryin' at night  
There's no need to worry, I'm really all right  
I've never looked back – as a matter of fact  
  
And it only hurts when I'm breathing  
My heart only breaks when it's beating  
My dreams only die when I'm dreaming  
So, I hold my breath – to forget  
  


 When I opened my eyes, I expected to see Aedan’s face at my dark tent flap; instead, there was light streaming in from the sun, and it wasn’t dawn light, either. I sighed. I’d slept through my watch and half the morning, if the angle of the sun’s rays were anything to go by.

 I finally crawled out of the tent, and my eyes widened in confusion. Most of the camp was just…missing. Leliana was sitting by the fire with Prince, singing softly to herself; Morrigan was reading from her mother’s grimoire, as far away from Leliana as she could get without leaving camp. Dariel sat, trying not to look like he was listening avidly to Leli’s singing. Gorim was practicing some sort of sword forms, likely trying to build up the stamina he’d lost while injured. Zevran emerged from the edge of the copse of trees nearby. And that was it. There were no tents except my own, only a few small packs, and no Grey Wardens.

 Leliana looked up as I emerged, and smiled at me sympathetically.

 “Don’t panic, Sierra. They haven’t abandoned you.”

 Ever eloquent, I squinted and drawled “What?” before I even had a chance to isolate the sensation in my chest when I saw everyone gone. _Yep, Leliana nailed it, that’s abandonment I’m feeling. How strange – I haven’t felt that in years._

 “Tomas felt we should let you sleep as long as you could. We know you haven’t been sleeping well, these past few days. So they went ahead, they said they had to cross to the Tower and come back, and had some arrangements to make. They figured we would catch up to them before they got back from the Tower. They said they needed Alistair, Aedan, Tomas, and Wynne at the Tower, and Sten and Shale to set up and protect a camp near shore. So we waited to accompany you.”

 The discomfort in my chest eased, and I smiled in gratitude. Once convinced Aedan was fine, and hadn’t really left me, I was actually sort of happy to be alone with the small group, no need to act okay and no…Alistair. At least for a couple of hours, I wouldn’t have to face him after the debacle the night before, wouldn’t have to feel the weight of his gaze on me. I stretched and then sat by Leli, smiling in greeting at the others who’d waited with me.

 I ate cold porridge and nibbled a piece of jerky; since becoming a Warden, I was a lot less picky about what I’d eat, I noticed. Once done, I quickly packed my things and got ready to go. Since no one else had a full pack, everyone distributed my things evenly among us, except Morrigan who, as usual, would be flying above us to scout.

 I’d found my phone among the packs sitting outside; I tucked it into a pocket without a word. I couldn’t bear to know what song Alistair had chosen to send me a message with this time; not yet, anyway.

 It was a pleasant morning, and even the endless walking didn’t seem quite so bad. It wasn’t precisely warm, but the sun was up and took the worst of the chill out of the air, and the humidity rose the closer we got to Lake Calenhad. I thought ahead to reaching the lake, and decided I’d try to find time to really get clean before we got on a boat to Redcliffe. Though I supposed I could also requisition a bath after the boat ride.

 We arrived at the lakeshore before long, and followed Morrigan’s piercing cry towards a camp occupied by only Sten and Shale. The golem was quiet, as usual, but Sten actually looked a little bit happy to see us. I wondered if he was suffering from fear of abandonment too, not that I would have asked him that. I didn’t want to die, after all.

 We didn’t know how long we would have to wait for them to come back, hopefully with Irving and Greagoir in tow; we set up camp, and Zev slipped off to do some hunting. We might be able to get supplies in the Tower or in Redcliffe, but extra meat would never be a bad thing, with now four Grey Wardens to feed. I decided to have my bath, and Leli came with; we searched along the rocky shoreline until we found a little inlet protected by a stand of trees for privacy.

 The water near the shore was very shallow, and the sun directly overhead had managed to warm it, a little; it was very pleasant, sinking into the water, submerged except for nose and mouth. I washed my hair twice, revelling in the luxury, and then crawled out to a large rock, sitting naked, allowing the sun to dry me before dressing. The beautiful bard, who I was more than a touch envious of, reclined on her own rock.

 We chatted amiably for a few minutes before suddenly Leliana went very still. She gestured at me to be quiet, and then pointed at the copse of trees behind us. She indicated to me she wanted me to stay put, and then silently rolled onto all fours, grabbing a dagger and her damp tunic off the ground, then snuck into the woods barefoot. I tried to stay still, pretend like I didn’t know something was wrong, but it took everything that I had not to grab for my clothes and my own daggers.

 And then I heard a thump, a squeal, and some cursing in Antivan. I rolled my eyes; Zevran. _I should have known._ I turned around to see a naked Leliana behind Zev, with her tunic wrapped around his eyes and her dagger held to his neck. I stood up and raised my eyebrow at Leli.

 “It would seem we have a peeping Tom,” I drawled.

 Leli giggled. “He wishes. He didn’t get anywhere near close enough to peep at anything.”

 Zev objected. “I wasn’t peeping! I was…checking on your safety, yes? The Warden would be displeased with me if something happened to you while he was away.”

 I tsk’d at him. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing, Zevran.”

 I knew, when I thought about it, that he hadn’t actually been trying that hard; he was more capable than Leli of moving silently and in hand-to-hand combat. There’s no way that we’d have known he was there, or that Leli could have overpowered him, unless he’d let it happen.

 Leli asked, “So what are we going to do about him now?”

 Zevran replied, “I can offer some suggestions, if you’re having trouble thinking of appropriate punishments, belissima.”

 I chuckled. “I think a little payback, perhaps. Is that blindfold on tight, Leli?” I winked and she nodded. “Zev, Leli’s still got her dagger right to your jugular. You move and she’ll use it, you understand?”

 Clearly nervous now, Zev stuttered. “Mia sorella? Please, I…”

 “Oh, no, don’t you ‘sister’ me, Zevran. You tried to peep; now put on your big boy pants and take your punishment.”

 I walked up to him, still naked, smirking at Leli. I stopped a fraction of an inch from him, going on tip-toes and leaning forward to whisper in his ear. “Your punishment, dear brother, is to have to live knowing that Leli and I were this close to you,” Leli pressed up to him from behind, and I blew warmly on his ear, “both of us naked, and that you could neither see nor touch. And if it happens again, or if you don’t go straight back to camp without peeking, I’ll tell Aedan exactly what you were up to.”

 His jaw dropped open, and Leli’s laugh tinkled out through the clearing. “You are most torturously devious, bella donna. Consider me appropriately chastised. I will keep my eyes closed until you are clear, and go back to camp without peeking. This I swear.”

 True to his word, he kept his eyes closed as Leli and I gathered our things and moved off along the beach to somewhere out of sight. Seeing the incredulous look on Leli’s face, I cracked up, sinking down to sit, bare-assed, on the sandy beach. Leli joined me, also giggling, and we laughed together at Zevran’s expense.

 “You know you’ve only dared him to try again, don’t you? He’s not going to give up.”

 “There was never a chance he’d give up. He has a reputation to maintain, after all! He’s not trying very hard, honestly. It’s just a game. And it cheered me up, which I’m sure was his plan…”

 “Speaking of cheering up, dare I ask, what has been happening with you and Alistair and your phone? It seems to be travelling back and forth between you, but no one is actually listening to music.”

 I sighed. “He is trying to apologise. I’m trying to make him go away. We seem to be having a little battle, choosing songs to send each other instead of talking.” Leliana eyed me with one eyebrow raised, and I flushed defensively. “He started it! I finally got mad after the first two and sent him a response. He won’t take the hint.”

 “What songs?”

 I told her, singing brief snatches from each one, and she nodded; she’d listened to my entire library more than once, I was sure, and could probably sing most of the songs in it. She smiled softly at his selections, but gently admonished me about mine.

 “You really are angry with him! Poor Alistair.”

 “Are you joking?” I scowled at her, only half serious. “You feel sorry for him?”

 “Sierra…if you wanted him truly to go away, the best method would be not to respond at all. I do not think you are so dedicated to staying away from him as you believe yourself to be. Responding, especially with a bit of humour, is definitely going to encourage him. Even if your song choices are angry.”

 I scowled deeper. “If he takes “I’m not ready to make nice” as encouragement, he’s got bigger problems.”

 I stood, now dry, and pulled my clothes on; the phone, still in my pocket, called to me. With a sigh, I sat down and turned it on. I was inexplicably irritated with Leli, though I knew that wasn’t rational, but it was sort of nice to have someone with me when I found out what song he’d left for me this time.

 I wasn’t expecting, of all the songs he could have chosen, Celine Dion’s ‘I’ll be waiting for you.”

  _Take me back into the arms I love; need me like you did before  
Touch me once again, and remember when  
There was no one that you wanted more  
  
Don't go you know you'll break my heart; she won't love you like I will  
I'm the one who'll stay when she walks away  
And you know I'll be standing here still  
  
I'll be waiting for you here inside my heart  
I'm the one who wants to love you more  
You will see I can give you everything you need  
Let me be the one to love you more  
  
See me as if you never knew; hold me so you can't let go  
Just believe in me, I will make you see  
All the things that your heart needs to know  
  
I'll be waiting for you here inside my heart  
I'm the one who wants to love you more  
You will see I can give you everything you need  
Let me be the one to love you more  
_  
 _And some way all the love that we had can be saved_  
Whatever it takes we'll find a way  
  
Believe me; I will make you see  
All the things that your heart needs to know  
  
I'll be waiting for you here inside my heart  
I'm the one who wants to love you more  
Don't you see I can give you everything you need  
Let me be the one to love you more

 Leliana held me as I cried, and her voice was soft when she finally spoke. “I feel sorry for him, but I am also sorry for you, my friend. This is hurting you both more than it needs to. I will make him stop, if you wish it.”

 I snivelled, wiping my tears off with the back of my hand. “I just…I need to think. Don’t do anything, for now, okay? I’ll let you know.”

 When I finally had myself together again, we headed back to camp. We arranged a clearing around the fire with logs scattered around for sitting. Dariel had gone off into the woods a little ways, not eager to be around _any_ templar, never mind the Knight Commander; Morrigan flew overhead to warn us when Aedan and the rest approached.

 I sat curled on a blanket, thinking about Alistair, and everything Leliana and Wynne had said to me. My thoughts were a whirlwind, and I was only too glad to be interrupted by Morrigan’s cawing as she flew through the camp. Shale and Sten elected to stay on the edge of camp, to keep watch; everyone else stood and turned towards the shore. Within a few minutes, a group of people came in sight; as they came closer, I could recognise the faces of my brother and my companions, but also Irving, Tanar, Greagoir, a young elf who I assumed was a mage by the robes he wore, and one more templar in full plate, including a helmet. Irving and Tanar looked excited, while Greagoir’s expression was far more sour. I couldn’t wait to change it.

 Aedan came up to me and gave me a hug, apologising for leaving me in the morning. I hugged him back, and he whispered to me.

 “Irving knows what we are after. Greagoir only knows we asked to meet. Don’t demonstrate anything until he’s agreed to let you go free, and to allow the conscription.”

 I nodded, and followed him over to the fire. Our companions who weren’t immediately involved in the process spread out through camp, cleaning armour, sharpening blades, and generally entertaining themselves; Alistair, Tomas, Wynne, and Leliana joined Aedan and I, followed by our guests. Alistair refused to make eye contact with me, and although I was grateful – I didn’t relish the thought of looking into those piercing orbs – I was also curious as hell. _Now’s not the time, Sierra._

 We all settled around the fire; the anonymous templar wouldn’t sit, but instead stood behind Greagoir, hand on the pommel of his sword. I shared a log with Aedan, who immediately put his arm around my shoulders. Once everyone was seated, we started the introductions. The young elf was introduced only as Alim, which perked my ears up, but I couldn’t do anything about it before figuring out everything else. I shook my head; there was no chance Greagoir was going to let us leave with two mages, and Anders was just more urgent. I did wonder why Alim was with them, but waited to find out. The templar wasn’t named, and never even removed his helmet. I wanted to scowl at him, but resisted. _I need Greagoir on my side; don’t piss him off over minutia, Sierra._

 At Tomas’ nod, I spoke.

 “My name is Sierra Jones.”

 “Cousland.” Aedan spoke up. “She’s a Cousland, from Highever.”

 I rolled my eyes and continued. “I am going to tell you a story that you won’t believe, but I hope I can change your mind. Everyone here is convinced of the truth of this story. I tell you this with an ulterior motive; I want something from you. Once I have told you my story, I will tell you what I want, and what I have to trade for it.” I turned to Greagoir. “I assure you I am no mage, and should you require it, I am prepared to allow you to verify that fact. Before I tell you anything more, though, I need a promise. I require a promise that, pending your verification of my non-mage status, you will not attempt to detain me to learn what I know.”

 Greagoir looked around himself. “I am in the middle of a well-armed camp. It would be suicide to try, I suspect.”

 I nodded. “Likely. But I don’t relish the thought of being hunted.” I softened my tone. “Look, I can promise you, I intend no harm to you, the Circle, the templars, the Chantry, or anyone else in Thedas except the darkspawn.”

 “Assuming I believe you when this is done, I agree.”

 It was the best I was going to get, and I knew it. I sighed and began my story.

 “As my dear brother said, I was born in Highever. When I was born, though, something happened. No one knows what, or how, but my…soul, let’s call it, the essence of what makes me, me,” I looked around to ensure no one looked too confused, “somehow was transported elsewhere. Somehow, this essence ended up as a newborn baby, on a distant world. And I do mean world; I was not on Thedas.

 “I grew up in a place with no magic, no mages, no elves or dwarves. We had advanced abilities to build things to make our lives easier, but no magic. One of the people there, I believe, somehow had access to the Fade, or something similar. He was able to see into Thedas from the distant world, and to see future events as they could unfold. Believing this to be a dream, he wrote a book about it. The book, believed to be a work of fiction, was widely published and well-known to those who enjoy such stories.”

 We had previously agreed that calling the game a book was going to save a lot of time, rather than go into my usual long-winded explanation of a theatre performance.

 “I read the book, several times, in fact. I learned about Thedas, and the events that would take place throughout the fifth Blight. I thought it an entertaining story, nothing more. And then, one day, without explanation, my soul came back to Ferelden. I found myself living in the story. Stuck here, I eventually decided that since I knew what was going to happen, I was going to try to change it. I didn’t like the outcome, and I decided to make a difference. I found the Grey Wardens, and have been using my knowledge to try to help them achieve their goal – to end the blight.”

 I began passing around my collection of Earth artifacts. I allowed all four men to examine my clothes, my Zippo, and the other bits and pieces I had brought over. When they were done, I pulled out my phone. I played them a video, and some music; took pictures of them with the camera, and showed them. And then I settled down to allow them to think about what they’d learned. Irving looked ecstatic; he and Tanar began whispering back and forth eagerly, until Greagoir finally interrupted them by clearing his throat.

 “Do you believe me?” I asked.

 The mages indicated they did, nodding eagerly. Greagoir looked somewhat disturbed. “You’re afraid I’m a blood mage, and that I am making you see things that aren’t there.”

 He nodded, having the grace to look at least a little bit apologetic. I grinned. “I expected that. If you come with me away from everyone here, you can go ahead and smite me, if it will make you feel better.”

 He looked shocked. “Young lady, I wouldn’t volunteer for that if I were you.”

 “It’s quite alright. It won’t be my first time. Seriously.”

 Greagoir gave Alistair a skeptical look, and he grinned sheepishly. “She made me do it.”

 I laughed, and turned back to Greagoir. “Let’s go over there. Will that be far enough away?”

 “There is no need. I can narrow my smite to include only you.”

  _Of course you can._ I nodded. “Go for it, then.”

 Aedan tightened his arm around me, but he couldn’t stop me from spasming in his arms. The pain wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t as bad as when Alistair did it, and it didn’t hold a candle to the Joining. I shuddered one more time, and then focused back on the Knight Commander.

 “So?”

 “You are not a mage.” He looked shocked. “I apologise for disbelieving you.”

 “Don’t worry about it. Think you can believe my crazy story now?”

 He took one more look at my phone, now sitting silently on the ground, and avoided the question. “I fail to see what all of this has to do with me.”

 “There’s more. Because it turns out that I am not a mage, I’m a templar. Without training, without Lyrium, and without the Chantry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the last update til the new year. Happy Holidays, all, and see you in 2015!


	63. Making a Deal

Chapter Sixty-Three: Making a Deal

 I spoke to Greagoir, Irving, Alim, Tanar, and the nameless templar. “There’s more. Because it turns out that I am not a mage; I’m a templar. Without training, without Lyrium, and without the Chantry.”

 Tanar smiled slightly, and Irving nodded thoughtfully; Alim looked a little bit nervous, but glanced at Irving and the lack of panic seemed to calm him. By contrast, Greagoir jumped up from where he sat and spluttered loudly. I sat quietly and watched, amused by his shock. Irving glanced at my face, and I could see him suppress a smirk of his own.

 When Greagoir regained control of his voice and began berating me for wasting his time with nonsense, I smiled sardonically. “I will give you answers, Ser, when you sit down. That is why I am here, after all. And when I have explained, we will discuss the next steps.”

 My calm manner seemed to soothe him to some extent; my years as a business consultant taught me that the way to respond to someone who was ranting was to get quieter and quieter, without appearing to be afraid. It feels extremely awkward to shout at someone who does not either respond in kind or cower. He paced back and forth a couple of times in front of his seat, face red, and then finally sat back down with a sigh.

 “I met a scholar recently who knows things about the templar order that the Chantry seems to have forgotten, and it has been an eye opener. I will not waste your time with the entire story of how I came to find out I am a templar, but rather just give you the information I think is relevant.

 “During recent research, I learned that the Chantry does not seem to know why some templars seem exceptionally talented, while others who work just as hard remain ineffective, at best.”

 Tanar interrupted me. “Before you get excited, Knight-Commander, I told her that. In Redcliffe.”

 I nodded. “Indeed. The scholar, who I met recently, was able to explain some things I suspect you do not know. The reason some templars abilities are stronger than others isn’t something that can be taught, and it has nothing to do with morals or character or faith. What it does have to do with is magic, or rather, the resistance to it.”

 Tanar’s eyes lit up, and Irving looked intrigued; even Greagoir appeared to be listening avidly, though his countenance was still angry.

 “We are all born with a certain amount of resistance to magic. Dwarves have a lot of resistance, obviously, but in humans and elves, the amount is quite variable. And it is hereditary; if you come from parents with strong resistance, it is more likely you will have strong resistance. It is this resistance that determines to what extent a templar can develop their skills. Regardless of how hard you work, if you have low resistance to magic, you will never become a good templar. And apparently, if your resistance is high enough, you will manifest templar abilities without training.

 “The scholar reasoned that I may have extremely high magical resistance, given that I grew up in a world with no magic. I wonder if all people where I grew up have it? And Wynne has confirmed it – what did you say, Wynne? Worse than healing a dwarf?”

 The elderly mage nodded, chuckling. “Indeed.” She turned to Irving. “Afterwards you need to try this – I cast a rejuvenation spell on Sierra, and I probably used twice the mana that I would for anyone else. Healing her was much more difficult, as well, and the lightheadedness caused by healing was far worse than normal.”

 I was surprised; I hadn’t thought about my blackout in Honnleath for a while. But she was right – even the more minor healing she’d done since, after sparring with Tomas, made me a bit dizzy. I was drawn from my thoughts by Tanar’s excited muttering.

 “That would explain the Lyrium’s effect, as well!” When he looked up and realised everyone was staring at him, he flushed. “Ingested Lyrium – it would increase a subject’s resistance to magic. It’s why dwarves have so much magic resistance – all the Lyrium in the stone.”

 “It seems the Chantry has forgotten a few other details, as well, over the centuries,” I continued, after a pause. “For one thing, in the distant past, more people in Thedas must have understood the magical resistance, because it was purposefully bred into the royal families, and I suspect many of the noble families, in the nations across Thedas. This is why, I bet you’ll find on average, that the younger sons and bastards of noble families who become templars are more effective than the commoners. It has nothing to do with upbringing or worthiness, but is something they have no more control over than their eye colour. This higher inherent magical resistance probably also decreases the number of mage children born into the royal families.

 “In addition, there are abilities, which the strongest of templars should be able to learn, that I do not believe you are aware of. They likely won’t make much difference to the average initiate, but those who advance through the ranks may benefit.

 “I am not a master at these skills, by any means. They are mostly instinctual for me, as I was not trained in how to be a templar. I initially used them during periods of intense fear. I have, however, learned to control several of them.” I held a hand up to forestall Greagoir, who was about to interrupt me. “And I am willing to show you, even to teach you, if you will accede to my request.”

 Greagoir did not jump to his feet again, but his complexion, which had returned to normal during my tale, flushed again. “You have information that should only be privy to the Chantry, and if I do not give you what you want, you would refuse to share it?”

 “Yes,” I replied, softly. “I do not believe that your Chantry has sole dominion over knowledge, nor any inherent right to take it from those who do not fall under their purview. That said, I believe there is a role for templars in Thedas, and I am willing to aid them in their task. However, there are more important things that we are dealing with than the Chantry’s knowledge, or lack thereof. I have freely given you the information I know, so far, and I suspect even knowing that information will allow you to research into new templar abilities if you can test the untrained initiates for resistance, and allow the most promising to work together.

 “However, if you wish us to take time away from our very critical task of ending the Blight, you must make it worth our time. I am asking for something of value to me, that inherently does not hurt you in any way. Perhaps you would like, now, to hear my request?”

 When he finally nodded, I took a deep breath. “I wish for you to release Anders to be conscripted into the Grey Wardens.”

 I managed to avoid flinching at the inevitable explosion that came from Greagoir as he leapt to his feet.

 “Of all the…arrogant…! You don’t know what you’re asking for! He’s a menace. He’s escaped the Circle six times, and is currently being held in the dungeon. I will not risk the safety of countless innocents by letting that…maleficar…out of our control.”

 Irving stood and objected. “Anders is no maleficar, Greagoir, and you know it. Yes, he has escaped the Circle, but has he ever hurt someone to escape? Attacked a templar? Turned to blood magic? Just because he cannot tolerate being confined, does not mean he is a maleficar.”

 Greagoir started to shout back, and then Tanar stood and joined the fray; I sat on my log and watched, amused, as it looked like the three adult men would come to blows. It was when the templar behind Greagoir gripped the pommel of his sword that finally, Tomas had had enough.

 “Gentleman!” he shouted, over-riding even Greagoir’s ranting. “Sit down this instant and we will discuss this like adults.”

 Despite his short hair and smooth chin, Tomas didn’t lack for commanding presence. All three men fell silent, and finally sat down, sulking like children. I appealed to Greagoir once again.

 “I know exactly what I am asking for, Knight-Commander. Because of the book I told you about, I know exactly what will happen to Anders in the future. He will escape again, after the Blight, and be conscripted into the Grey Wardens then instead of now. And in the meantime, he will have been damaged by the year of solitary confinement you are currently punishing him with, and you will have to put up with the embarrassment of yet another escape. Instead, he can come with us, be useful against the darkspawn, help end the Blight, and be out of your hair. I will personally take responsibility for him, and I will be able to demonstrate why you need not fear him while in my company.”

 Greagoir looked slightly calmer, but not entirely pacified. He turned to Wynne, and I tried not to cringe.

 “What do you think, Senior Enchanter?”

 Wynne looked at me, expression inscrutable. I nodded; she needed to tell the truth. I wouldn’t ask her to lie about disagreeing with me.

 “You know very well that I do not trust that young man. All of those escapes, and then his reputation in the tower even before that…” Irving grimaced, and I sighed. “That said, I do trust Sierra. She is well able to deal with an abomination, should something happen; ask Irving about how Uldred died, sometime, if you doubt it. She feels strongly that letting Anders become a Warden is the best course of action. While I am not so sure, I find it difficult to argue effectively. These are not normal times, and extraordinary measures may be required.”

 I smiled gratefully, blushing at the compliment of complete trust she paid me. I mouthed ‘Thanks Mom,’ at her, and she winked at me.

 “From you, Wynne, that’s high praise.” Greagoir sat, looking thoughtful; I took it as a good sign he hadn’t refused outright. After a few moments, he asked Irving and Tomas to walk with him, and they took off toward the shore, talking quietly under their breath. Irving gestured as he spoke, and I smiled at his animation. He was sort of cute, in a grandfatherly way.

 While we waited, Tanar slid over to be nearer to me. “Where did you learn all this information about templars?”

 I looked up, judging the distance between us and the helmeted templar; he was facing Irving and Greagoir, and I doubted he’d be able to hear, but I whispered anyway.

 “A mage. A Grey Warden who’d stayed alive for centuries using blood magic.”

 He looked horrified, and I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what we thought too. But he was certainly knowledgeable. Apparently, two or three hundred years ago, this was all common knowledge.”

 I said he _was_ knowledgeable, and allowed Tanar to think what he would, knowing he’d assume I meant that the apostate was dead. He managed to look both disappointed and relieved at the same time. I chuckled. _Welcome to my life._

 I answered Tanar’s questions as best I could, though for the most part I didn’t know the answers. After a few minutes, I decided I wanted to know what was going on with Alim. He had yet to speak, and I was curious not only why he was with them, but also whether he knew Jowan and was involved in his escape. I could have asked Tanar – he was clearly the gossipy type – but instead I got up and sat down in Irving’s vacated spot.

 “Alim, is it?”

 He nodded, eyes widening. “Yes, my lady?”

 “Just Sierra, please. I have less interest in a title than you can imagine.” I smiled, and his lips turned up slightly. “I was just wondering why on Earth they brought you with them.” I smiled as he seemed to work through my strange jargon.

 He sighed. “The Knight-Commander has decided that I am the only trustworthy mage in the Tower.” I looked confused, and he explained, “I was the one who told him one of the apprentices was a blood mage.”

 I gasped. “Jowan?”

 He nodded, clearly confused that I knew who that was. I couldn’t figure out what to say. _Good job? You’re an asshole?_ I couldn’t decide. I still wasn’t sure where I stood on the Jowan situation. Fortunately, Alim chose not to ask.

 “I think he and Irving are grooming me to be the next First Enchanter, and Greagoir’s decided to keep me close. I don’t know if it’s so he gets to know me, or maybe to try and intimidate me into being more cooperative than Irving is…either way, lately I’ve had to follow him about almost everywhere.”

 “Were you in the Harrowing chamber, when Uldred…”

 He confirmed it, looking ill. “Yes. I saw you there. I was only too glad I passed out before it was over, though I could have lived without the headache.”

 My face flushed. “Uh, sorry about that. That might have been my fault.”

 He looked at me, and his eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “You killed Uldred? You were the templar who drained all our mana.”

 I nodded. “Yeah, although I didn’t know it then. I still don’t exactly know how I killed him.” His eyes were wide, and I realised suddenly that he was afraid. “Hey, wait. I’m not like other templars. I have unique powers, but I don’t hate mages. I wasn’t raised an Andrastian. I would never use my powers on you, well, assuming you don’t get all bulbous and gross and demony.”

 He sputtered out a laugh. “Demony?”

 I blushed. “What else should I call it? I’m not exactly familiar with the nuances of the names for the various types of possessed mages.”

 He laughed, and when he was done, we talked for a few more minutes about the Circle and the Chantry. When I told him I thought the templars were wrong to isolate mages, not warn them what they faced in the Harrowing, and that I didn’t believe anyone should ever be made Tranquil, he seemed to relax and open up a bit more. We had a pleasant ‘wouldn’t it be nice’ conversation, dreaming of a world where the Circle was there to protect mages, not imprison them. I hoped he was right and did become the First Enchanter when Irving retired. He wasn’t an idiot, and he was willing to spend the time and effort to effect change. He was likely only my age, but I was impressed with his wisdom.

 Irving and Greagoir spoke for probably half an hour, alternating between calm discussion and obviously angry arguments, with Tomas apparently only interjecting when things became too heated, but they eventually came back. Greagoir informed me, in a gruff voice, that Anders would be released into the custody of the Grey Wardens. I smiled gratefully, repressing my shout of joy.

 Of course, Greagoir wanted to begin training right away to learn the abilities I could show him. It occurred to me, for the first time, that without an Emissary around, training was going to be difficult.

 “I…have a small problem. I need a mage to, uh, borrow mana from.” He looked revolted, and I tried to placate him. “My abilities allow me to drain a mage’s mana, but then sometimes, I can…do things with it. I am all-but-untrained; I can barely perform a basic smite, but if I have access to a mage…”

 Irving, who’d been listening, walked over. “You may use my mana, Sierra.”

 Wynne hustled over, interrupting anything else he was going to say. “No, Irving! You have not been well; I will not allow it.” She turned to me. “Use mine, dear.”

 “Wynne…”

 “I insist. You need mana, so use mine.”

 To my relief, Aedan spoke. “Wynne, we need you in top form when we’re done here, in case healing is required. We can’t have you drained of mana.”

 She seemed to consider this, and then turned to Tanar. “Don’t look at me!” he exclaimed. “Once was enough.”

 Alim, who’d been listening silently, approached. “Use mine. I am not needed for healing, and I am certainly healthy enough to withstand it.”

 “I…do not wish to cause you discomfort.” I was not keen on the idea, by any means. I knew it wouldn’t damage anything – Avernus had been fine, when I gave him his mana back – but I didn’t know if it could have a negative impact on Wynne’s Spirit, and I had just barely gotten the elf to stop being afraid of me.

 “Can it kill me?”

 “I don’t believe so.”

 “Does it hurt more than a smite?”

 “No, at least, I don’t think so. I’ve been told it’s mostly very uncomfortable – you will be able to feel your mana, but not access it.”

 “I’ll live,” he drawled, wryly. “Let’s get this over with.”

 Alim, Greagoir, and I went to sit together, some distance from everyone else. The first thing I did was what I had done with Alistair, having Alim create small fireballs and showing Greagoir what I could see when he did it. He was a little slower to pick it up than Alistair, but we got to the point where he could detect a spell that was being visualised, even before it was cast, and I figured he’d have plenty of opportunities to practice once we left. Then, with an apologetic warning to Alim, I robbed the elf of his mana entirely, and just held it.

 Alim grunted, but Greagoir’s mouth hung open in surprise. His shock was sort of amusing, and I grinned. “Right? Can you feel the mana?”

 “How did you…”

 “No idea. It just happened. Now watch.”

 Like I had done for Avernus, I let a small trickle of the mana flow back, and then more, until I held perhaps half. “Now you try. Take what I’m not using.”

 Unlike Alistair’s smooth ability to share with me, Greagoir’s attempts were clumsy. I wondered just how much stronger Alistair’s abilities must be, and what that would have meant for him had he stayed at the Chantry. _He could have been the next Knight-Commander, if they truly promote by skill._ Greagoir tried to grab the mana with what felt like brute force, knocking the wind out of Alim and even jolting me. I growled, and Greagoir flinched apologetically.

 “Alim?”

 “I’ve had worse. I’ll be fine.”

 I made Greagoir practice picking up the mana and putting it back again several times until he could do it less roughly. Once I was convinced he had it, I dropped the rest of Alim’s mana and bade Greagoir try it on his own. It took a while, and Alim looked a lot more uncomfortable than when I did it, but he finally had it.

 Then I showed him the shield. His eyes were huge as I convinced Tomas to try to strike me with his sword – it bounced right off. Greagoir could see what I’d done, but he couldn’t seem to master it. He would take Alim’s mana, and the air around his target would sort of shimmer, but the shield wouldn’t stay. He finally stopped, panting in exhaustion.

 I told him of the other two abilities I had – one, which seemed like a super-powered, area-of-effect smite – and the other, which made Uldred’s orifices start leaking blood. I explained that I had not yet learned how to do either with any sort of control, in addition to which I couldn’t try because of the lack of those that I wanted dead in the immediate vicinity.

 Finally finished, the three of us rejoined the rest of the group. Wynne, Irving, and Tanar all took turns casting minor spells – rejuvenations and small heals, for the most part – on each other, Alistair, Greagoir, and me. I was unsurprised to discover that while my resistance was clearly much, much higher than the rest, Alistair’s was the next highest – noticeably higher than Greagoir’s. The Knight-Commander scowled at Alistair, and no one could miss the twinkle in Alistair’s eye. He opened his mouth, most likely to make some witty comment, but a harsh glare from Tomas shut him up abruptly.

 I knew exactly what he was going to say, and I almost blurted it out too: _Aren’t you sorry you weren’t all nicer to Alistair when he was in the Chantry?_ Tomas’ gaze swivelled to me, and I turned away to hide my amusement.


	64. Tattling and Embarrassment

Chapter Sixty-Four: Tattling and Embarrassment

 Greagoir followed through with his end of the deal, and even offered us one better – the use of the Circle’s boat to get to Redcliffe. We agreed gratefully, and decided to meet in the morning to greet Anders, recruit him, and board the boat. Wynne would accompany Irving and Greagoir back to the Tower to make sure Anders was ready to travel.

 Before they left, I decided to broach the subject of Meredith. I wanted only Irving and Greagoir to hear, so I asked the two men for a minute of their time.

 “So, I’m hoping now you can concede that I am what I say, that I’m not from here.” Both men nodded, looking slightly puzzled. “That book I told you about? The one that predicts the future here? It keeps going, well past the events of the Blight. And it’s not good news.”

 I must have looked as nauseous as I felt when I thought about Kirkwall, because Irving looked concerned. “What is the matter, my dear? Surely it cannot be so dire. You’ve already said we defeat the Blight.”

 “We do. But after that…there’s going to be a war. Between mages and templars. The specifics don’t matter, particularly, but there are two things that can, possibly, slow things down and restore some sanity. One I am taking care of, and I will not tell you. But the other…you need to know that the trigger, the one who truly starts the war, is Kirkwall’s Knight-Commander – Meredith Stannard.”

 Irving looked horrified, but I noted Greagoir only looked thoughtful. “You don’t look surprised, Knight-Commander. I’m guessing you’ve met Meredith?”

 He nodded. “She’s…devout, I’ll give her that.” The way he said devout, it sounded like ‘crazy’. I couldn’t disagree.

 Irving’s frown deepened. I sighed. “She’ll become much worse, if you can imagine. She’s going to be exposed to a magical artifact made out of Red Lyrium; she’ll have it made into a sword, actually. Red Lyrium is extremely toxic; it will drive her mad – deepen her paranoia, remove her ability to reason. She’ll end up executing dozens of mages or making them Tranquil, even ones that have passed their Harrowing and are not practicing blood magic; she will turn the Gallows into an actual prison, again, allowing abuse to happen, getting involved in Lyrium smuggling… She will push the mages to their breaking points, quite literally _forcing_ many innocent people to turn to blood magic, because it’s that, Tranquility, or death.

 “Because of her, a mage underground will spring up, dedicated to freeing the mages, and when she goes too far, it will explode into war. And after the Kirkwall Circle falls, the others will start to fall, one by one. It’s possible to prevent the Circle here from falling, with the right reforms, but the rest are doomed.

 “The only way I can see to prevent some of the bloodshed is for Meredith to be removed as Knight-Commander. And I don’t mean years from now, when the damage is already done; I mean now. Before she gets her hands on that Idol. Before she goes completely mad. She needs to be kept away from mages at all costs.”

 Greagoir turned to pace, but I was happy to see he hadn’t dismissed my claims out of hand. “What you suggest is not an easy thing. With no evidence of wrongdoing, I will never be able to convince the Grand Cleric, never mind the Divine, that she must be reassigned.”

 “Actually, if you’re talking to Elthina, you might try telling her to pander less to the nobility, send her sisters and brothers to help the poor once in a while, and stop assuming that a miracle will happen on her doorstep. Andraste favours those who use their position and abilities to help others, and those who do their duty; all she ever seems to do is avoid hers, leaving it ‘in the Maker’s Hands’.”

 Irving snickered, and Greagoir shot him an annoyed glance. “You’re speaking of the Grand Cleric, woman. Show some respect.”

 “I respect those who deserve it, Knight-Commander. Neither Meredith nor Elthina do.”

 He shook his head irritably. “If we get back to Meredith, what would you suggest I do? You know that no one will believe me when I tell them she’s a danger.”

 I thought about it, and inspiration struck. “Have you sent Cullen to Kirkwall yet?”

 His shocked expression morphed into a wry chuckle. “That’s very disconcerting, you know. I have not. I haven’t even mentioned it yet.”

 “Well, he needs a bit of time to…recover, but once he has, he should be the new Knight-Commander. My suggestion? Get him on your side, warn him about Meredith, and have him send you reports. He won’t have the confidence to report a superior for misuse of command, not until she’s stark raving mad at any rate. Encourage him to write to you about anything he sees as being…not right, and perhaps you can use that as evidence?” Greagoir nodded, deep in thought. “Or frankly, just have someone assassinate her now. It would probably be easier.”

 Greagoir looked up sharply, but relaxed when he saw me grinning. _I won’t tell him I’m half-serious._ “I’m not sure that would help, honestly; she’d just end up a martyr for mage-haters.”

 I grinned. “You do have a sense of humour! Well done.”

 He smirked. “What should I tell Ser Cullen to look for?”

 “Tell him to keep count of the number of Tranquil, and ask the pretty ones about their sex lives. There was a strong implication some of the Tranquil were being used as sex slaves. And find a way to have her sword examined, by mages or the Tranquil or someone, whoever can recognise it for what it is. I suspect the rest will be obvious.”

 Greagoir finally left, with Wynne and Irving in tow; I was happy that they hadn’t dismissed my concerns, but remained unconvinced that anything would come of it. Sighing, I returned to my spot near the fire.

 It was near supper, and all the concentrating I’d been doing with Greagoir had given me a headache. I picked at some food, suddenly nervous to meet Anders, still anxious about Alistair, and overall irritable. Leli had asked for my phone, so I wandered off to sit on the shore until sunset. Zev joined me, this time, and I wondered if they’d drawn straws for who would come find me; nevertheless I was grateful for his company.

 He didn’t ask, didn’t push, just sat quietly beside me and let me think.

 “Zev?”

 “Yes, my dove?”

 “Am I being too hard on him?” I couldn’t say his name, but I knew Zev would understand who I meant.

 “No, Bellissima. He made a mistake, a grave one, and it is entirely up to you to decide how to respond. There is no such thing as a ‘standard’ amount of harshness in situations like this, yes?”

 I sighed. “That doesn’t help.”

 “I know. I am sorry. If I may ask…do you love him still?”

 I nodded, then buried my face in my hands. He put one arm around my shoulders and waited. When I looked up, he continued.

 “He is set on pursuing you. He wishes to make amends.”

 “I know.”

 “Do you wish him to stop?”

 I paused, watching the sunset reflect beautiful colours on the water of Lake Calenhad.

 “I just don’t know.”

 We sat quietly again until the sun finally set, and I clambered to my feet to head back to camp. On my way back, I heard music playing softly from Alistair’s tent, and I smiled sadly. I could have sung along, not that I would have where anyone could hear me. The song he’d chosen was “Let her go” by Passenger.

  _You only need the light when it’s burning low_

_Only miss the sun when it starts to snow_

_Only know you love her when you let her go_

_Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low_

_Only hate the road when you’re missing home_

_Only know you love her when you let her go_

_And you let her go…_

_Staring at the bottom of your glass_

_Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last_

_But dreams come slow, and they go so fast_

_You see her when you close your eyes,_

_Maybe one day you’ll understand why_

_Everything you touch surely dies_

_Staring at the ceiling in the dark_

_Same old empty feeling in your heart_

_Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast_

_Well you see her when you fall asleep_

_But never to touch, and never to keep_

_Cause you loved her too much and you dived too deep._

 

_Well you only need the light when it’s burning low_

_Only miss the sun when it starts to snow_

_Only know you love her when you let her go._

_Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low_

_Only hate the road when you’re missing home_

_Only know you love her when you let her go_

_And you let her go…_

 

My gaze found Leliana, the last person I knew had my phone, and she tilted her head, gesturing toward my tent. I sighed and followed her through the flap, sitting cross-legged on my bedroll.

 “He asked for my phone?”

 “No. I gave it to him. I told him that I’d figured out what he’d been doing, with the songs, and that I had chosen one he should listen to. I think you heard it, yes?”

 “Leli! I asked you not to do anything. I asked you to give me some time.”

 “I know, but, my friend…he is hurting you. Both of you. I didn’t understand just how badly until today. Every time one of you picks a song and sends it to the other, both of your hearts bleed. It would be kinder just to use a dagger, and be done with it, no?”

 I knew I was going to lose my temper, and I’d taken it out on Leliana before. I wasn’t going to do it again. I was already tired and irritable, not acting rationally; she was trying to help me, despite expressly ignoring my wishes. I held my tongue, and asked her to leave me alone. She complied, reluctantly, and departed.

 I thought about her words, and my reaction to her essentially telling Alistair to let me go. I thought about how I felt when I heard him listening to that song. I thought about what Zevran had asked me.

 Suddenly I was very tired. I changed out of armour and curled up in my blankets, falling straight asleep.

 I woke several hours later with a scream. The darkspawn dreams were horrific, and in this one, I could have sworn it was a vision…of a dwarf being turned into a broodmother. I wondered if it was Laryn. I stumbled out of my tent over to the edge of camp, where I retched into the bushes. I’d heard a saying once – ‘I have learned that you can keep vomiting long after you think you’re done’ – and I’d always thought it only applied to drinking. I had tears running down my face, and probably snot too, given how congested I felt; the whole thing was humiliating. When my stomach finally settled, someone handed me a rag, and I wiped my nose and mouth before sitting back with a gasp. My stomach hurt, and my mouth tasted like I was the one eating darkspawn flesh mixed into a gruel with Maker-knew what else. My benefactor handed me a waterskin, and I rinsed out my mouth and spat before taking a big drink.

 I finally turned to see who had been unfortunate enough to witness my gastrointestinal pyrotechnics, and to no one’s surprise, ever, it was Alistair. _Really, it’s like my life is being orchestrated for maximum humiliation._ I sighed and thanked him softly.

 “Darkspawn?”

 I nodded. “Broodmother.”

 He shuddered, and then took my hands to pull me to my feet. “I’m sorry.”

 I stepped towards the fire; I knew I was not going to sleep anymore, not for a while, so I planned to take over watch and send Alistair to bed. I only got a couple of steps closer to the fire, however, when I heard Alistair gasp.

 “Sierra, Maker, what happened?” I looked down at my legs, where he was staring in horror, and realised that my trousers were stained with blood. I was oddly detached, looking at the spreading redness; I knew I should have been scared, but my emotions just couldn’t seem to catch up with the rest of me.

 After a few moments, I noticed Morrigan approach, Alistair practically dragging her by the arm. I was dazed; I hadn’t even noticed that he ran off to get the mage. She took one look at me, told Alistair to go back to the fire, and then took one of my hands, pulling me into my tent. I tried to object, but she just tugged harder, and I followed her without fighting it.

 She pushed me back on my bedroll, which was also stained, I noticed abstractly; I couldn’t seem to focus on any of the details. I felt her aura and then a green glow came from her hands, hovering over my midsection. I put my head back and closed my eyes, wondering if I was in shock from blood loss. Morrigan didn’t look frightened, however, so it couldn’t have been that bad.

 Some discomfort I had barely registered eased, and I recognised what it had been: cramps. When Morrigan finished, she allowed me to sit up. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to collect my wits.

 “Sierra?” Her soft voice interrupted my confused train of thought, and I looked up at her. She was holding a small yellow ball that shed soft light through the tent.

 “Well, this is embarrassing.”

 “Sierra, you are far too old not to know what is going on. What has come over you?”

 “I…” I paused, thinking. “I’ve been taking medicine, at home, for years, to prevent my period from coming.” She looked confused, so I clarified, “My uh, girly bleeding thing. Whatever you call it here.”

 “Monthlies.”

 “Right. Well, I haven’t had one in five years. I sort of forgot what they were like. When I was back, before, the doctor asked me if I wanted to keep taking the medication, and I said no, I didn’t think I needed it. Alistair was using protection, and…well, I guess I didn’t think that through very well.”

 “Are your monthlies always this heavy?”

 “They used to be. Before. That’s why I took the medicine.”

 “Why did they never fix this?”

 “It can’t be fixed. Some women are just like that.” The incredulous look on her face almost made me laugh. “No magic, where I come from, remember?”

 “I am no healer; though I now know one spell, it is not sufficient for this. Wynne should be more than capable, however.”

 “I’ll talk to her tomorrow on the boat.” Morrigan nodded and rose to leave; I raised my hand to stall her. “Um, Morrigan?”

 She nodded.

 “What do I do about…” I gestured to my lap.

 “What do you mean?”

 “Well, I’m guessing there are no tampons in Thedas. What do I use to prevent it from bleeding through my clothes?”

 “What is a tampon?”

 “A little absorbent thing that you put…up…it keeps the blood from making a mess. You throw them away when they’re soiled.”

 “Ah. Well, most women here use rags. You have to wash them out and reuse them. However, I can, temporarily, suspend your bleeding until you talk to Wynne. I know how to make a potion.”

 “Oh, would you? I’d love you forever. I’m already mortified, I don’t know how I’d be able to manage.”

 “You should know – you should not get pregnant within a month of taking the potion. The baby could have birth defects.”

 “That shouldn’t be a problem.” I looked away, and she got up to go again. “Morrigan?”

 She sighed and settled again. “Yes, Sierra?”

 “Is…is there any chance this is a miscarriage?”

 “No. That was the first thing I checked.”

 I was flooded with a feeling I couldn’t quite place, and then I realised it was a jumble of emotions, not just one. Relief that nothing was wrong, that I wasn’t pregnant, that I wasn’t having a miscarriage; embarrassment that I didn’t know how to manage my own bodily functions in this ridiculous world, and that Alistair had seen me; and a deep sadness – for just one moment, I’d hoped that I could be having Alistair’s baby.

 Morrigan finally left, leaving me reeling as I analysed my own emotions. Clearly I was not even close to having figured out this Alistair thing, if I could seriously be hoping for _that_. As an obligation was not the way I wanted to move forward there, thank you very much.

 I changed into a loose nightdress, balling my soiled smalls inside a fresh pair until Morrigan came back with her potion. I stripped the bloody blankets off my bedroll, grabbed my soiled trousers, and bundled them together. Between the dream I’d had and my acute embarrassment, sleep was just not going to happen; I decided that when Morrigan returned, I would take my things down to the lake and try to get the stains out while they were fresh.

 I didn’t have to wait long – Morrigan’s slender arm came through the flap of my tent holding a flask of some green concoction that smelled like death. I tried to chug it, but it was thick and resisted being drunk quickly; I gagged my way through it and then spent a couple of minutes hoping not to throw up again, before I managed to settle my stomach.

 I crept out of my tent, holding a bundle of soiled cloth, only to have Alistair approach anxiously.

 “I want to thank you for not waking everyone.” I couldn’t imagine how much worse it would have been if Aedan or Tomas saw.

 “Are you alright? Morrigan wouldn’t tell me anything.”

 “I’m fine.” We hadn’t spoken almost at all in days; it felt weird to do so now.

 “You’re not fine! That was a lot of blood, Sierra. How did you get injured?”

 I looked at him, incredulous. _How could anyone be that naïve_ …it occurred to me to wonder if the Chantry taught even basic sex ed.

  _Please, Maker, don’t force me to teach Alistair about female bodily functions._

 “It wasn’t an injury, Alistair. I…well, women in general, I suppose, have these, um, things that happen. Every month or so.”

 His faced flushed scarlet – I could tell even in the very dim firelight. He stammered. “I know that! But you never.,..I mean, before I didn’t think you…had that.”

 “I was on medication. Back on Earth. I told you about that before?” He nodded. “It stopped them.”

 “So what’s gone wrong then?”

 “They asked me if I needed it anymore, and I said no.”

 “Why?” He looked so vulnerable, then, his expression open and puzzled, and I almost gave in. Almost. _Because some day I wanted your baby._ There was no way I was going to admit that out loud.

 “Alistair, if you don’t know the answer to that question, I am certainly not going to enlighten you. Perhaps you can ask Wynne about it later. She seems to enjoy discussing personal matters with you. For now, I’m going to go clean up, and you’re going to stay on watch.”

 “But you can’t go down there alone. I’ll wake Aedan and come with you.”

 “No you won’t. You won’t wake him at all. When I’m done washing, it’s my watch, and that’s final. I do not want you down there with me, Alistair. I don’t want anyone down there. Contrary to popular belief, I am not helpless. It’s close enough that I can shout if I need help, and I have my dagger in case the local wildlife get curious. Now go sit down.”

 “Sierra…”

 “Please, Alistair.” I was on the verge of hysterics. I couldn’t have this conversation any more. “Please just leave me be. Please.”

 I turned and walked away, pumping my kinetic flashlight to light my path. I didn’t hear armour clanking, so he must have let me go. I made it to the shore and sank down, trying to bottle everything up. I was sick of being so fragile.

 After a moment I started my trousers soaking as I pulled off my smalls and washed myself carefully. That done, I started scrubbing my soiled clothes against a rock with some soap, rinsing frequently to remove the blood. After all the fighting I’d seen so far, I was more than knowledgeable of how to get blood out of cloth.

 Finally satisfied that my trousers and blankets were salvaged, I tucked my wet panties inside them and took my bundle of wet things back to the fire. Alistair didn’t object when I sent him to get some sleep, and once I was alone except for Shale, as usual, I spread my wet clothes and blankets on rocks as close to the fire as I could.

 I was chilly; my blankets were damp, and I really should have been wearing more than a nightgown, so I crawled to the opening of my tent, pulled out my armour and my heavy cloak, and dressed hurriedly by the fire. Then I sat, for the rest of the night, staring into the flames and trying not to think anymore.


	65. Explanation

Chapter Sixty-Five: Explanation

 

By morning, I had porridge going and we actually had some fresh fruit to serve with it, thanks to Aedan picking up some supplies at the Tower; I was quiet, but that had become normal, and no one seemed bothered. Aedan was a little upset that I had taken his watch, but when I told him about my broodmother dream, he was sympathetic. _How Grey Wardens survive thirty years without going mad from sleep deprivation is nothing short of miraculous._

 We packed up and headed to the dock for the Circle Tower; Kester rowed us over four at a time, which took a while. Once we were all assembled, we sent Dariel and Morrigan straight to the Tower’s boat with all of our gear, and the rest of us went inside. Dariel seemed close to wetting himself. _Keep the apostates as far from the Circle as possible, thanks._

 We got a lot of interesting looks from people prowling the halls, and I guessed the gossip of our arrival must have spread, because there were more mages and templars wandering through the foyer than I thought would have been usual. Shale drew a great deal of attention, as did Sten and Gorim, for their obvious physical differences from the elven and human crowd; even Tomas was stared at, and I noticed that all of the ‘residents’ looked exceptionally pale. The windows in the Tower were all high and tiny; the mages never saw direct sunlight. Tomas’ dark complexion was as exotic to them as a giant, grey Qunari. I smiled.

 Greagoir, Wynne, and Irving finally appeared, and Wynne’s face was like a thunderhead; behind them, shuffling along, was a tall, extremely emaciated, grey-skinned mage with greasy blond hair in a loose ponytail. He looked like he hadn’t eaten in months, or bathed for that matter; as he got closer, I saw that the whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and he was squinting owlishly as he walked. His shuffling gait looked unbalanced and uncomfortable, and I guessed that he was weak from months of incarceration.

 “Anders?” I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to hide the horror on my face.

  _This is Anders? What in the hell did Greagoir do, throw him in there and forget about him?_ I couldn’t reconcile my memory of the healer from Awakenings, or even DA2, with this gaunt, weak creature, until he looked up when I said his name, and I caught his eye. _Ah, there you are._

 I smiled, trying not to look as though his condition made me feel ill; Greagoir gave him a bit of a push so he came to stand by me.

 “This woman has taken responsibility for your actions, mage. May the Maker have mercy on both of you if I hear that you have betrayed her faith in you, because I certainly won’t.” Greagoir turned away, signalling to the templars around him; they began to herd the curious mages out of the foyer, and soon we were alone. Even Irving left, with one last concerned look.

 Tomas approached Anders, his expression concerned. “Anders? I’m Tomas.”

 When the mage barely even acknowledged him, Tomas tried again. “Anders, will you be safe to travel? We are leaving by boat as soon as possible, and I need to know if you can make it.”

 When he looked up, his eyes flashed, but his voice sounded lifeless. “Why don’t you ask my templar jailor? It is her decision, after all. Oh, I should mention, I’ll be due for another dose of magebane soon.”

 I blanched, and realised that no one had explained to him what was going on. I looked at Wynne, desperate; she shook her head, and motioned towards the exit. I realised she was right; talking about it the details here was not going to solve the problem. But something needed to be said.

 “Anders, my name is Sierra. I am not your jailor, and you will not be given any more magebane. We are leaving this place, and you will never have to come back. No one will hurt you or abuse you in any way, not as long as I draw breath. We can talk about this more once we are away from this disgusting Tower. The question is, can you walk that far, or do we need to carry you?”

 He looked at me, skepticism clearly visible in his expression. “Well, I’ve never seen them actually use the ‘good templar’ part of the good templar, bad templar routine. Usually it’s bad templar, worse templar.”

 I snorted, relieved that somewhere under all the filth and abuse was the Anders I knew. “Oh good, another comedian. Come on. _Please_. Just tell me if you can make it to the boat?”

 “I’ll make it.”

 I motioned towards the door, but stayed at his side; in this state, he looked like he was about to fall over at each step. And he smelled completely rank; I couldn’t believe that Wynne hadn’t at least gotten him a bath before we left. I glared in her direction, but her unhappy expression when she looked at Anders was motherly, not angry. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt until I knew exactly what had happened.

 It was a slow process, but we made it out the door, and across the small spit of land to the dock where the boat waited for us. Aedan and Alistair had to assist Anders climbing the gangplank, but he patently refused to be carried, and I couldn’t blame him. The light seemed to bother him, so we hurried into a shaded area of the deck where he could be more comfortable. The captain approached us and spoke with Aedan, briefly; he then left to begin the process of casting off.

 “Anders? What would you like first – food, a bath, or rest?” He looked at me, obviously not trusting me. I couldn’t blame him. “Listen. We will tell you the whole story later, but Greagoir’s full of crap. I may have templar skills, but I am not a templar. I’m not even Andrastian. I have no intention of being your jailor or watching over you. Did they even tell you you’ve been conscripted into the Grey Wardens?”

 He jerked at that, and seemed to think about it for a minute. “A Grey Warden? Me?” He looked away, then finally smiled. It was a small smile, obviously an expression he hadn’t used in a while, but it was there. “As in, outside of the Chantry’s jurisdiction? I’m free?”

 “Yes-“

 Tomas spoke up, interrupting me. “In some ways, yes. Free from the Chantry, free to use your magic for the good of Ferelden, free from persecution. Grey Wardens do not discriminate against mages; in fact, we value mage recruits highly. But you are still a Grey Warden recruit, and you were conscripted, not a volunteer. There are expectations of you that we will explain later. I will not lie to you – Joining the Grey Wardens requires great sacrifice, and it changes you forever. There is no going back.”

 Anders nodded, looking sort of dazed. I cleared my throat. “My question remains. Bath, food, or bed?”

 “I think…all three of those, in that exact order, if you don’t mind.”

 “Deal. I’m guessing there’s not an actual bathtub on this crate, but I’ll go find out. If not, Aedan, could you find Anders a cabin _of his own_ , and I’ll bring some water?”

 Aedan nodded at me. It seemed everyone was happy for me to take charge of this situation, no one quite sure where to start. I figured if I could just make it seem like everything was normal, we’d get where we needed eventually.

 There was a crew member standing nearby, and Aedan and I approached him together. “Can you help us?”

 “Probably, my Lady. I am Piers, the Bosun for this ship. I can help you get settled into cabins, show you around, whatever you require. I am at your disposal.”

 “Is there somewhere for someone to have a bath? Like, a real one?” I asked.

He explained that there was no tub, but each cabin had a basin and towels for cleaning, and he told me where to go to get hot water. Aedan then had him escort them all to cabins, and I took off to get the water. It didn’t take long to find a large cauldron of water in the back of the galley boiling, and I grabbed two large buckets of hot water and headed back to where the guest quarters were.

This was more like a cruise ship than a cargo boat; I could barely feel the movement as we pulled away from the dock. To my amazement, there were about a dozen cabins available for us. There were two cabins with open doors when I arrived; one was empty, but I spied my pack sitting on a chair, and the other held a very exhausted looking Anders. The cabins were tiny, as I would have expected, but at least they had doors, unlike where he’d spent the last several months.

 I put the buckets down, and he didn’t even acknowledge me; hurrying back to my room, I dug through my pack until I found some soap and shampoo, and brought them to him.

 “Listen, I’m going to go change out of this armour, and then head to the galley and find some food. I figure we might as well use the Tower’s supplies since we’re on their boat. Why don’t you clean up, and join me there whenever you’re ready? I’m sure that bosun guy can point you in the right direction. Do you need help to get cleaned up, though? I can coerce one of the guys to help, I’m sure, if you need. Do you have clean clothes to wear? Do you require healing?”

 He gestured to a pile of cloth, and I recognised Alistair’s spare tunic on top. “I’ll manage on my own for cleaning, and as for healing – my magebane is wearing off. I’ll be fine. So, you’re just going to leave me in here, alone?”

 “Um, that was my plan…oh crap, I didn’t even think – you’ve just been in solitary for months. Would you prefer I stay? Or I can go get Wynne…”

 “No, no. I’m just surprised. You’re not quite the templar Greagoir told me to expect.”

 “Like I said, I’m not a templar at all. That was just the show we needed to put on so that Greagoir would release you.”

 “Why?” He looked so vulnerable, and I wanted to hug him. And then I remembered how bad he smelled.

 “After your bath, nosey-pants. I promise we will tell you everything. Come find me in the galley. And, Anders?” He nodded. “You can close the door. Lock it, even, if you like.”

 He actually grinned, and I left the room smiling.

 When Anders found me, Leli and I were up to our elbows in food. The boat was amazingly well-stocked, and while apparently there was no cook, that gave us free rein in the kitchen. I made a salad, with actual fresh vegetables, and there were potatoes and salted beef. Leli made some sort of meatloaf thing, so I started baking cookies. It was harder than I was used to – digital stoves have definite advantages – and we didn’t have any chocolate chips, but the result wasn’t bad, even by my estimation.

 Anders was clean, his hair damp and tied back tightly, his skin slightly pink from scrubbing. The clothes he’d borrowed from Alistair were long enough – I guessed the two men were similar in height – but the warrior had obviously a much different build than the gaunt mage. He had the pants held up by a thin rope, and looked like he was swimming in the tunic. Despite that, he somehow looked graceful and elegant, and I smiled.

 Anders sat at a table, watching us with amusement; Leli was alternating between singing bawdy drinking songs and telling tales of past seductions, trying – successfully – to make me blush. When he came in, I grabbed a plate and put some cheese and fresh fruit on it for him to munch while we cooked. He looked positively shocked at the quantities of food we were piling onto the counter.

 “Exactly how many of us are there?” he finally asked.

 Leliana and I locked gazes, doing a head count. “Aedan, Alistair, Tomas, Wynne, Morrigan, Sten, Zevran, Dariel, Gorim, and the three of us? Plus Shale, but she doesn’t eat. And Prince, who does. So fourteen all told, but twelve for lunch, plus one under the table.” He looked confused, and I giggled. “Prince is a mabari.”

 “I hate dogs,” he whined.

 “I know. You’re a cat person.”

 He turned a skeptical eye on me. “So you’re supposed to be some sort of mind-reader? Maybe I’m just not a pet person.”

 “Call it a talent.” Leliana giggled, and I smirked at her.

 “You still haven’t explained why there’s enough food for double our numbers? Or are you cooking for the crew as well?”

 Leliana and I locked gazes again, and she sighed. “I’ll grab some more beef.”

 “I’ve got the potatoes! In answer to your question, there are thirteen of us eating, but three of those are Wardens, one is a Qunari, and one is someone who I’m guessing has been starved for months. Don’t worry, all the food will be eaten.”

 “If this is what you always eat like, you must spend a fortune on food.”

 “You have no idea. But when we’re on the road, things are a lot leaner, so we’ve learned to make the best of it when we’re somewhere we can indulge.”

 “So…I’m to be a Grey Warden?”

 “Yes. I’m sorry. It’s not as good as true freedom, but it’s a lot better than the Circle.”

 “I think it will work. It’s a good cause, at least. There are worse things I could be doing.”

 “Like starving in a dungeon?”

 “And not bathing. Yes, just like that.” I smiled, and he returned it; it looked a bit ghastly, with how thin he was, but I was grateful to see it anyway. “So when do I get to hear the whole story?”

 “Once everyone has eaten. Which reminds me, where is everyone?”

 Leliana replied, “Maybe they all fell overboard?”

 “Now that would be a shame. Wait, I know.” I whistled, one loud, piercing note, and then waited. In two minutes, Prince came bounding into the galley, and I patted his head. I held up a piece of beef barely smaller than his head. “Prince, if you can go find everyone and get them here in the next ten minutes, you can have this, plus your supper.”

 He barked, wagged his tail, licked my hand, and ran off. I laughed.

 “Maker, I love that dog.”

 Anders, suddenly looking wary, asked, “I thought you weren’t Andrastian?”

 “Oh, I’m not. It’s just that I’m picking up habits from my Andrastian friends. I wasn’t religious before I came here, either, but I used to say ‘oh my God’ all the time, anyway. It seems to me that when people are swearing by Andraste’s panties, or her flaming sword, or whatever, that they’re not exactly trying to be pious.”

 He relaxed again and actually laughed. “That’s the truth. I just…you’re really not what I thought you’d be.”

 “Considering you thought I would be a stuffy, mean, Chant-spewing zealot, that’s not saying much.”

 “You’ve got a point.”

 Just then, Aedan and Zev arrived, and shortly we had a wave of people show up. The galley, fortunately, had been designed with multiple passengers in mind, and there was enough seating for everyone.

 “Where’s Shale?” I asked.

 Aedan chuckled. “Standing on deck. The Captain was worried if she moved too far to one side, she’d overbalance the boat. I doubt that’s true – she’s not that heavy, if she was, she would collapse the floor when she walked – but she seemed concerned, and decided to stand right by the mast. Just in case.”

 I sighed. “We’re going to owe her some more shiny stones in appreciation, aren’t we?” Everyone just laughed.

 We all quieted down as we ate, and I gave Prince his extra beef surreptitiously when Aedan wasn’t looking. Leliana took a large platter of food out to the Bosun to distribute to the crew, and he was apparently quite moved by the gesture. True to my prediction to Anders, the food disappeared in a surprisingly short time, and I snickered when I noticed Anders watching with big eyes.

 After we ate, Tomas looked to Anders. “You feel up for a discussion, or do you need to rest?”

 “I’m good here. Fairly desperate to understand what’s going on, though.”

 Tomas nodded, and excused everyone from the galley except Aedan, Alistair, Wynne, and I. We all gathered around one table; I was between Anders and Aedan, with Wynne directly across from me.

 Checking to make sure we were alone, I glared at Wynne. “What the hell, Wynne? You said you’d take care of him last night.”

 “Yes, well, that lasted until we were out of sight of the camp; Greagoir said that he might be recruited the next day, but he wasn’t taking the chance of letting Anders loose in the Tower overnight. Irving and I argued with him, but there was no changing his mind. I never dreamed what we’d find when he sent two templars down to the dungeon this morning to bring him up.”

 She turned to Anders, and he stiffened slightly. “I am very sorry, Anders. Greagoir failed you. Of course, he was as surprised as I when you came up, but I still hold him responsible for not checking to see that you were cared for appropriately. I initially opposed your conscription, but I begin to see that Sierra may be right – you need to be out of the Circle.”

 Anders’ puzzled eyes turned to me. “Have we met, or something? Because I get the impression you came for me specifically, and went out of your way to do so, but I can’t imagine why if you don’t even know me.”

 Wynne excused herself, and I leaned against Aedan before explaining. I told him about Earth, and the game, me being in Ferelden, and his conscription after the Blight was over. He seemed to take it all in, but I knew we’d need a private discussion at some point as well. I was relieved to see him get along well with both Aedan and Tomas; by the end of it, he was poking fun at them, and they were chuckling. He reminded me of Alistair, and by the glower he was receiving from the templar, it seemed I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

 After lunch, Anders slowly limped back to his cabin, and I went up on deck to talk to Shale. She had moved around a bit without tipping the boat, but she had trouble on stairs at the best of times, and seemed content on deck. She was fascinated by the water, and I thought it would be interesting to see how she’d react to the ocean.

 I found Tomas on deck as well, and he asked me to do some sparring with him – without weapons or armour. It was mostly a good way to keep limber without cutting each other accidentally when the boat rocked. We both got to toss each other around a bit, but it felt more like yoga than anything, practicing moves side-by-side. Eventually Zev and Aedan joined us; it must have looked strange, as we had a bit of an audience before the bosun chased them all away.

 I went to my own room after, and decided to have a quick nap; I had just climbed onto the bed when I heard shouting. I ran out into the hallway, to see Aedan standing there, eyes wide as we both looked around. It happened again, and we realised the sound was coming from Anders’ cabin. I darted over to the door and tried the handle, only to discover it was locked. I started knocking instead.

 “Anders?” No response. “Anders? Can you hear me? Open the door.”

 A muffled grunt came through, and then the door unlocked and swung open. Anders stood there sheepishly.

“Um, sorry about that.”

 “Bad dreams?” He nodded, and Aedan and I looked at him sympathetically. “We understand. Can I do anything for you?”

 “I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t mind some company, until my heart slows down again.”

 “Male company? Female company? Both?” I was teasing, and from the gleam in his eye he knew it.

 “No offense, Aedan, but I would have to be crazy to turn down the presence of such a beautiful woman, especially if she’s offering.”

 I heard a growl, and looked down the corridor to see Alistair, face red, lips pulled back in a snarl. I wanted to grin, but that would be too unkind. Aedan, looking amused, pushed me through Anders’ door and closed it behind us, and I heard his footsteps recede in Alistair’s direction. I sighed.

“I really stepped in it, didn’t I?” Anders looked uncomfortable.

 “No, not really. He did.”

“Oh, poor man. Nothing quite like a jealous former lover. Dare I ask what he did?”

 “I’d rather not talk about it.” My playful mood was completely gone.

 Anders reached out and touched my shoulder gently. “I’m sorry. I was only teasing, not trying to…”

 “I know. Me too. It’s okay.” I gathered my willpower and forced a smile onto my face. “That’s enough about idiot almost-former-templars. Want to talk about your dream?”

 Anders gestured, and then climbed up to sit cross-legged on the bed as I sank into the only chair. “I really don’t. He’s a templar, too?”

“Not really. He was an initiate, but was recruited before he took his vows. Honestly, he’d have been a terrible templar. Not that he isn’t talented, but he doesn’t have the mindset.”

 “That’s sort of reassuring, I suppose. So how did you come to be a templar? I wouldn’t have thought they’d teach those sorts of skills in a world without magic.”

 “Apparently it’s all about inherent resistance to magic. I have lots of that. No training, though, so I’m terrible at most of the common skills. I couldn’t smite to save my life.”

 “Which implies there are uncommon skills?”

 “I can drain your mana. Like, entirely. More like lock it off where you can’t use it, I suppose. And when I do, I can put up shields on my friends. There’s more, but I don’t know how to control it, so I don’t do that much. It comes in handy when we run into darkspawn mages, though.”

 His eyes were big. “That’s…horrifying. I knew templars were bad, but…”

 “Hey! It’s not like I chose it. And I’d never do it to someone who wasn’t, you know, trying to kill me.”

 “I’ll keep that in mind,” he drawled, wryly, and I giggled.

 “Besides, most of the templars aren’t strong enough to do what I can. Alistair and perhaps a handful of others across all of Thedas. I think you’re safe.”

 “You’ve been teaching them?” His voice was somewhat high pitched, his expression panicked, and I sighed.

 “It was the cost of getting you out. But like I said, most aren’t capable. Even Greagoir couldn’t manage the shield.”

 “I’ll bet he was thrilled about that.”

 “Yeah, not so much.” We shared a grin, and then fell silent for a few minutes. I studied his face, so different when clean, but still far too thin. I wondered if we should fatten him up prior to his Joining. He finally interrupted my musing, clearing his throat, and I realised I’d been staring.

 I flushed. “Sorry. It’s sort of surreal, meeting people for the first time when you already know them. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

 “So you know things about me?”

 “Not a lot of detail, no. Bits and pieces.” _Did Anders ever talk in much detail about his time at the Circle?_ Not for the first time, I cursed myself for not playing DA2 more often. “Let me think. I know your real name isn’t Anders, but I don’t know what your real one is. I know you were born in the Anderfels, and that your father was glad when the templars came for you. I have no idea how you ended up in Ferelden. There was a stray cat at the tower that you used to take care of. Mr. Wiggums, or something silly like that. I know you had a reputation, for, uh, let’s call it…open-mindedness, and that Karl was your first, uh, companion. And that you don’t believe in love, because if you care too much for someone, it gives the templars something to control you with, something to take away.

 “I know you’ve escaped six times, but that each time they found you. You have never hurt anyone while escaping. Irving felt you could be trusted, at least not to turn to blood magic or make a deal with a demon. And you hate cramped, dark spaces. But I think that’s all.”

“That’s rather a lot, actually. I was going to escape again?”

 “Did you ever doubt it?” He laughed, and I grinned. “Six escape attempts? One day you’re going to have to tell me how you got out.”

 “Not a chance – you’ll turn around and tell that busybody Greagoir.”

 “Not bloody likely.” I scowled. “If I see that bastard again, I’ll probably push him into the lake in full armour.”

 “You weren’t so reluctant to share things with him before.” His expression was hesitant; not angry, but not trusting. I sighed. I could see it from his perspective, even if I knew I held no special regard for templars.

 “I did the minimum required to get his agreement to let you out, Anders. Truly. And part of that agreement was that he would get you out last night, and you would be taken care of. He told us you were fine, healthy. Wynne went back to the tower for the express purpose of seeing you last night and explaining what was happening, and then he reneged. I owe him nothing. And for what he’s done to you, I hope he burns in hell. I actually thought he just might be one of the good ones, for a while. I’m sorry to have been wrong.”

 “There are no good ones.”

 “There are, actually. Cullen, once he’s recovered, for one, and a few others I can think of. And many of those I wouldn’t count as ‘good’ I don’t really blame – they’ve been lied to and frightened by the Chantry and brainwashed for so long, they don’t know any better. But Greagoir should have.”

 “So what’s going to happen to me now?”

 “Well, we’re heading to Redcliffe, where you will become a Grey Warden, along with at least one other. Then all of us will travel to Orzammar to get the dwarves to pledge aid against the Blight. But, of course, they won’t be able to help without sending us into the Deep Roads. Once that’s done, it’s back to Redcliffe, call a Landsmeet, and then defeat the Blight. My being here has changed a lot of things, so I’m not taking anything for granted though.”

 “What have you changed?”

 “I can’t tell you all of it. Like I’ve said to everyone here, I know secrets about almost everyone, and it’s not my place to spill those. But how much do you know about what’s been happening with the Blight?”

 “Only a little. One of my jailors was a little nicer than the rest. He’d give me bigger rations, more water, that sort of thing. He told me a bit about Ostagar, and about Uldred’s rebellion, but not a lot.”

 I explained Loghain’s betrayal at Ostagar, and the subsequent events. “One major change is that Tomas wasn’t supposed to survive. Apparently I saved him with one of those shield things, and then sort of…exploded some darkspawn. So more of the army survived as well, though that’s only made the civil war worse. Loghain has declared himself regent, and the Bannorn aren’t willing to just accept that. We’ve run into a couple of skirmishes between Gwaren forces and the ‘rebels’. Another big change is that, because I know what’s happening, lots of things have taken less time than they would otherwise. It was supposed to take over a year to rally the allies, but I think we’ll be able to do that in half the time. Give or take.”

 “Is that good?”

 “Well, it’s less time for the Blight to spread, and for darkspawn numbers to grow, but whether we can force the final battle to happen earlier is anyone’s guess. At least it might buy us more time to prepare. And maybe find some more Grey Warden recruits? I’m not sure.”

 He thought about that for a bit before changing the subject. “You said you know me after the Blight is ended. The way you’ve been talking around the subject, I’m guessing some of those secrets you don’t want to spill involve me.”

 “They do. But I don’t…think I will tell you. Some of the things that could have happened will hopefully be very different, now, and I plan to make sure that’s the case for other things in future too. Telling you all of the things that could have happened, could have gone wrong…it won’t help anyone. And it will only hurt you.”

 He examined my face for a moment. “I do something really horrifically bad, don’t I?” he whispered.

 I tried to keep my expression neutral. “Not on purpose. And I will not allow it to happen.”

 “I don’t make a deal with a demon or something stupid, do I?” I shook my head. _Vengeance isn’t a demon. Not exactly…_ “Thank the Maker for small mercies. Does everyone else know what I will do?”

 “No. No one. All they know about you is that you’re a healer, that you’re well-meaning, and that it would be a really big waste to leave you stuck in the dungeon of the tower for another six months, only to recruit you in the end anyway.”

 “Thanks, I think.”

 


	66. Healing Process

#  Chapter Sixty-Six: Healing Process

 I headed back out after a few more minutes of idle chatter, happy with how things were going with Anders. He wasn’t quite as angry or bitter as he was in DA2, but he was different than he seemed in Awakenings, too, even though he’d just come from the dungeon. Not that I expected him to suddenly love templars and be a devout Andrastian, but it was nice that he wasn’t too bitter.

 When I thought about it, I was lucky with all of my companions. Shale had considerably mellowed towards me, Morrigan kept most of the nasty comments to herself, Aedan wasn’t bitter at being conscripted, Alistair wasn’t resentful about having lost Duncan or having to take the throne…the level of bitterness was much, much better than it could have been. I was relieved.

 I went looking for Wynne, finding her reading in a cabin of her own; when I knocked, she looked up expectantly and smiled.

 “What can I do for you, dear?”

 I was embarrassed, but clearly something had to be done about my…girl issues. “Um, I need help with something.” I was blushing, and she gave me a curious look.

 “What’s wrong?”

 “I’m just embarrassed. My, uh, monthly came. Last night.”

 “And that has you embarrassed because…?”

 “Well, mine have always been sort of…enthusiastic. I didn’t know it was coming and it soaked through my clothes and blankets. Alistair saw. It was mortifying.”

 “I’m surprised this hasn’t come up before now, then.”

 “My body at home was on medication that prevented them. I hadn’t had a monthly in five years. They recently stopped the medication.”

 “Ah, that would make it awkward then.”

 “Yeah. So Morrigan gave me some potion to temporarily stop my bleeding, but she said I should talk to you about them being so heavy.”

 She shot me a sharp look. “Don’t use those potions often, do you hear me?”

 “I know, I know. They cause birth defects. Pregnancy isn’t exactly something I’m concerned about at the moment.”

 She relaxed. “At least she told you. So you were hoping I could decrease your bleeding?”

 “I would be forever grateful if you could.”

 “Let me just…” I felt her aura flare, and she directed some sort of magic at my belly.

 “Is that some sort of…diagnostic tool?”

 She nodded as the magic winked out. “Ironically…we should probably talk to Anders. As much as I don’t approve of him, he was the finest spirit healer in the tower, by far.”

 “I can’t talk about this to Anders!”

 “Oh, youth.” Her lips twitched, trying to suppress a laugh. “He’s a healer. He won’t be embarrassed.”

 “I will!”

 “What about if I tell him? All you have to do is lay there.”

 “I…” _Oh, who am I kidding, I’ll go through a lot worse than that to have better periods._ “Fine. But what exactly is it that’s wrong with me?”

 She looked surprised. “Well, your womb is…I don’t know how to explain it to someone who’s not a healer. There’s some unusual blood flow, and the lining gets too thick. Anders will be able to redirect the flow so that doesn’t happen. It often takes a couple of attempts to fix it, just so you know. And it can be…uncomfortable.”

 I nodded, not exactly thrilled, but willing if it meant I wouldn’t have to deal with the same problem again.

 “There’s one other thing I want to talk to you about.”

 “Oh?” I looked at the healer, who had a suspiciously neutral expression on her face. “What’s that?”

 “Actually, it’s more something to show you.” She turned and lifted a brown leather tube off the small bedside table in her cabin. “Don’t open it now. Open it later tonight. Before bed.”

 “A gift?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

 “Of sorts. Now, scoot, young lady. Let’s go find Anders.”

 I dropped the tube off in my cabin, tucking it inside my pack for safekeeping, then followed Wynne back to Anders’ cabin. She pulled him aside and whispered into his ear for a few minutes. I was red-faced and horrified, and he smiled softly at me, trying to put me at ease.

 “Can you lay down for a second? It shouldn’t take long.”

 I nodded, and awkwardly crawled onto his bed. Wynne stayed, and I soon felt both auras flare, as the same evaluation scan Wynne had done to me before started. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I wasn’t there, imagining myself on a beach somewhere tropical, anything to keep my mind off the embarrassing problem I was having. _At least there’s no nakedness or stirrups or awkward physical examination involved._ I purposefully didn’t listen as they discussed what they were feeling, and then Wynne’s aura faded. Anders’ aura was similar to Wynne’s but somehow deeper, or bigger; his flared higher and I felt warmth spread through my belly.

 Suddenly the warmth became heat and then burning, and I gasped, biting my lip to keep from screaming. I felt like he was burning my insides with a laser, and the target slowly moved throughout my abdomen. The pain got worse and worse, and I finally couldn’t help the cry that escaped, before eventually passing out. The blackness was a relief.

 When I woke, it was much darker outside, if the lack of light streaming in through the window was any indication, and I had been moved. Disoriented, I looked around to realise I was on the bed in my own cabin. Sitting in a chair at my side was Anders, his expression anxious; across the room, leaning against the wall, was Alistair. Aedan sat on the bed at my side, holding my hand.

 I struggled to sit up, and Anders sprang up to assist me. They told me I’d passed out, which I knew; drawn by my cry, Alistair and Aedan had come running, and they decided to bring me back to my own room to recover.

 I could tell Alistair was furious at Anders; his mouth was pressed into a thin line, and his scowl could have melted plastic. Anders seemed amused by it, and I struggled not to laugh when his lips twitched every time Alistair sighed.

 Anders asked my permission to examine me to ensure the healing was done, which I granted; I watched as he ran another diagnostic scan. He then asked Aedan and Alistair to leave. Aedan got up without a word, squeezed my hand, and left. Alistair’s scowl deepened.   
  
“Why should we have to leave?”

 Anders sighed. “Look, some things are more…sensitive, than others, to heal. This could be embarrassing for her. It’s bad enough with a healer in the room; infinitely worse with someone else.”

 “Do I have to get naked or something?” I asked, suddenly nervous.

 “No.” He leaned over and whispered, softly enough that Alistair couldn’t hear. “This time it won’t be painful. It will probably be the opposite. It’s not uncommon for, uh, reactions to happen.” I raised my eyebrows, and he chuckled. “Don’t worry. You’ll like it, and I’ll never tell.”

 I whispered back. “And now I know why you became a spirit healer.” His laugh was infectious, and as embarrassed as I was, I couldn’t help but join him. Alistair looked unamused and irritated, and it made me laugh harder.

 “It’s okay, Alistair. You can go.” I gestured towards the door.

 “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

 I sighed, giggling mood gone. “You know what? Fine. Go ahead and watch.”

 I laid back again, gave Anders a decisive nod, and closed my eyes. I heard Alistair close the door to my cabin. I felt the usual magic aura, and then suddenly gasped as the warmth started flooding my belly again. This time, though, it didn’t feel like a laser; it felt like hands, stroking with just the right pressure, moving down, and down further. And then I was overtaken by pleasure, body writhing as the warmth pooled in my core. I tried to fight it, one part of my brain horrified as I groaned and bucked against the invisible fingers, but I had no control over it. I lay, shuddering, and the warmth finally receded, leaving me panting and my head spinning.

 When I finally opened my eyes, Alistair was huddled on the floor, head in hands, trembling, and Anders was looking at me, apologetic and anxious. I gave Anders a reassuring smile and sat up, feeling better, though extremely…frustrated.

 “Did it work?”

 “Yes. It should be more normal, now.” He looked over at Alistair, looked back at me, shrugged, squeezed my shoulder, and took his leave.

 I sighed and approached Alistair. “Hey.”

 He didn’t look up, just grunted in response.

 “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would be quite like…that. I’d have insisted you leave.”

 “And leave that bastard alone in here with you like that? No.”

 “Alistair, he was healing me. Fixing that embarrassing girl problem I’d rather not deal with. He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

 “Right.”

 “I trust Anders. I know you don’t, but try to think of Zevran. You don’t have to trust him, but I’d like to think, despite everything, that maybe you still trust me? Besides, frankly, the first healing hurt like hell. If this is the alternative, I’ll take it. And better him than Wynne, because that would just be creepy.”

 He stood up quite suddenly, and I took a step back in surprise. He reached out and cupped my face gently. “I trust you with my life. I let him heal you, didn’t I? I wanted to punch him in the face, but I didn’t. But I didn’t promise not to hate every man who looks at you with lust on his face, and I can’t promise that I’ll get better about that. That said…”

 He leaned in and kissed my forehead softly, then released my face and turned away. “Leliana told me I should let you go. I have no intention of doing that. But she also said I’m hurting you, and that I will not do. So this is the last time I will bring it up. I picked one more song, but I’m done after that. I will keep it to myself, my love and my desire and my jealousy; I won’t torment you with it anymore. But know this. I love you, and I always will. I don’t expect your forgiveness. But if you ever need anything, I will be there.”

 He leaned over and placed my phone on the bed, then without looking back, walked away. I sat on the edge of the bed, dumbfounded. I decided to delay listening to the song, and instead rifled through my pack, pulling out the tube from Wynne. The smell of parchment and leather teased my nose when I popped the end off the tube, and a thick roll of parchment slid out onto my bed. I carefully unrolled it – parchment, while thicker than paper, is far more fragile – catching just a glimpse of an eye as it sprang back into the roll. I tried again and finally flattened the papers out.

 The top page was a picture, drawn by hand, of Aedan and I, sitting together, laughing. There were shadows on our faces, making it look like firelight; Aedan had his arm casually around my shoulders, his head thrown back in a laugh. I was more restrained, but my eyes were scrunched with laughter, and I hid my mouth behind a hand like I tend to when giggling. I had what must have been a smear of dirt on my forehead, and my hair was coming undone from a braid or pony tail, curling crazily around my face. The detail was incredible; you’d have thought it was a photograph rendered into sepia tones with photo-editing software.

 I set that page aside to see another drawing, this time of Leliana, Wynne, and me around a table talking. The third was Aedan, Zevran, and me; the fourth Duncan and me. There was one of me sparring with Sten, one of Leli braiding my hair, one of me grinding herbs with Morrigan for potions. Each picture was perfect, capturing the mood of each subject, as well as the subtle details that make each person unique.

 And the theme was obvious – each picture was of me, with one of more of our companions. Until I flipped through a few more, and my eyes grew round. The bottom half of the stack of parchment was pictures of me alone. Sitting, eating, watching the fire, star-gazing. There was one of me sitting cross-legged on the floor of Soldier’s Peak drawn from behind, shoulders stiff, head turned so that I’d just be able to see the observer out of the corner of my eye. I knew whose point of view the picture must have represented; I could recall sitting in a circle, discussing next steps, and feeling Alistair’s gaze on my back.

 The last few were the worst. Or best, I suppose, depending on your viewpoint. There was one of me asleep, hair mussed, mouth slightly open, head turned as though being cradled by someone. The expression on my face was peaceful, but somehow sensual; I could almost sense the artist’s urge to kiss me. The next was less finished than the others. Again it was me, crouched down in front of a body of water, shoulders slumped, arms reaching out for a bundle floating in the water. I recognised it – it was me washing blood out of my clothes and blankets in the lake the night before. The only one who’d been awake at the time was Alistair; he must’ve followed me quietly to check on me when I’d asked him to leave me alone, and then spent the rest of the night drawing instead of sleeping.

 The last one was a close-up of my face, pale and drawn, with dark circles under my eyes and tear tracks running down my cheeks. The expression on my face was fragile, lost, betrayed…I almost cried again, feeling the emotions strike at me, the sheer rawness of the pain portrayed was horrifying.

 I could come to only one conclusion: Alistair had a previously unknown hobby. And he’d been watching me – far more closely, and for longer, than I could have predicted.

 The thought was sobering. He obviously understood how I felt; the emotion in his drawings were deep and mesmerizing. And from how often that last page had been handled, I could tell he’d been torturing himself with it frequently. I was surprised to realise how much I didn’t know about Alistair. This Alistair, the real one – _my_ Alistair, my heart kept insisting, though I’d given up on the concept, I thought – had depths and facets I’d never imagined when playing the game. It shouldn’t have been so shocking, but it was.

 I rolled up the parchments and put them away, then picked up the phone, turning it on. He’d apparently done more than choose a song; he’d left the photos app open, and I glanced through the pictures and videos in my camera roll. Most of them had been taken the first day I returned with phone in hand; there were dozens of pictures of my companions, in all manner of goofy poses, and videos of people doing stupid things. I smiled as I watched Zev and Aedan horse around; there were even a couple of pictures of Morrigan looking content, smiling.

 And then I came upon a video I hadn’t even realised someone had taken. It was Alistair and I, walking together. We were holding hands, and he was looking down into my eyes; he stopped me to lean down and kiss me, then press his forehead against mine. I looked radiant, and his smile was so loving it made my heart bleed. I was tempted to delete it, just so I could salvage whatever little shredded bits of my heart that remained, but I couldn’t press the button. I close the app and flopped back on the bed, letting the tears come.

 Curling my legs up beside me, fetal position, I fumbled with the phone to access my music. 3 Doors Down played while I cried.

  _A hundred days have made me older_  
 _Since the last time that I saw your pretty face_  
 _A thousand lies have made me colder_  
 _And I don't think I can look at this the same_  
  
 _But all the miles that separate_  
 _Disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face_  
  
 _I'm here without you, baby_  
 _But you're still on my lonely mind_  
 _I think about you, baby_  
 _And I dream about you all the time_  
 _I'm here without you, baby_  
 _But you're still with me in my dreams_  
 _And tonight it's only you and me_

  
_The miles just keep rollin'_   
_As the people leave their way to say hello_   
_I've heard this life is overrated_   
_But I hope that it gets better as we go_   
  
_I'm here without you, baby_   
_But you're still on my lonely mind_   
_I think about you, baby_   
_And I dream about you all the time_   
_I'm here without you, baby_   
_But you're still with me in my dreams_   
_And tonight, girl, its only you and me_   
  
_Everything I know, and anywhere I go_   
_It gets hard but it won't take away my love_

_And when the last one falls_   
_When it's all said and done_   
_It gets hard but it won’t take away my love_   
  
_I'm here without you, baby_   
_But you're still on my lonely mind_   
_I think about you, baby_   
_And I dream about you all the time_   
_I'm here without you, baby_   
_But you're still with me in my dreams_   
_And tonight, girl, it's only you and me_

 

It was perfect and sad, and goodbye. I knew he wouldn’t push me, that he’d decided to leave me alone, and with sudden, perfect clarity, I knew I didn’t want him to. Leliana had been right. If I’d wanted him to go away, I shouldn’t have sent him back songs, shouldn’t have responded at all. I had been angry, but I hadn’t wanted him to give up.

 I almost got up to go to him, only to remember that look, the one I couldn’t get past. That disgusted expression that screamed ‘you’re a monster’. No matter what I learned about him, no matter what he said, that mental image staggered me every time I thought about it. It was like being stabbed in the heart every single time.

 I curled up into a little ball, and cried. I’d done a lot of crying over the past several days, but this was possibly the most bittersweet of them all. Because I’d finally been able to admit that I wanted him back, I wanted to make it work…but I couldn’t.

 I cried myself to sleep, missing dinner, and slept fitfully all night. I woke early, not rested but at least awake, when I felt a bump and the cessation of the vague movement that had been present since we’d left the tower. We’d arrived at Redcliffe.

 I got up and packed my things, leaving them by the door so they wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. I handed to leather tube containing Alistair’s drawings back to Wynne without a word. Up on deck I saw Shale and exchanged silent nods, and got a quick hug from Zevran who was sitting in the bow watching the water in the dim pre-dawn light. No one else seemed to be up, so I went to the kitchen, starving from having missed a meal, and munched while I put out a plate of fruit, bread, and cheese for everyone to pick off of.

 Tomas joined me, and we had a brief discussion about what we would do once we disembarked. He planned to conscript Jowan, given the improved chances of surviving the Joining, and send the three mages with Aedan to gather darkspawn blood. I begged him to at least make it a choice for Jowan; not only did it seem fair, but I thought that the irresponsible mage, for once, needed to take responsibility for his choices. If he was going to ever grow up, he needed to choose in an informed manner. Tomas finally agreed to at least warn him that it could be dangerous, and offer him the choice.

 One by one the rest started filtering into the kitchen, ending our conversation; I threw Prince a piece of salted beef, and added a slice to a plate I handed to Alistair, without comment. I had to hide my appetite – we couldn’t have anyone guessing I was a Grey Warden – nor was I keen for everyone to know I’d had some sort of intense healing to increase my food requirements, but I’d been able to snack enough while cutting up the fruit to just eat one large plate and blame not having supper the night before.

 Tomas took Dariel aside and they had a quick, whispered conversation; Dariel shook his head, and I gathered that meant he had decided not to become a Warden. It was too bad; we could have used another healer.

 Once everyone was fed, we collected our things and disembarked, thanking the bosun and the Captain for their service. I guessed by their broad smiles that Aedan had left them with a purse full of sovereigns. No one was at the docks in Redcliffe to greet us, being so early and our arrival unexpected, but the Castle was waking as we approached, and there were knights training and servants scurrying about in the courtyard and main foyer.

 We found Eamon, Teagan, Theron, and Isolde having breakfast in the main hall, and they all jumped up when we arrived. They welcomed us back to Redcliffe, though the dirty looks Isolde shot at Alistair when she thought no one was looking made it plain hers was fake. It got my back up, and I had to remind myself that it wasn’t my place to defend him, even if she was a bitch.

 Tomas had a quick, whispered conversation with Eamon. Guessing what that was about, I turned away, and was suddenly scooped into a hug by Teagan. I laughed as he set me back on my feet, kissing my hand, before turning and doing the same to Leliana, Wynne, and even Morrigan. We all giggled like simpering idiots, and I knew the scamp had done it on purpose. _Damn, you know you have to be charming to get Morrigan to giggle!_ He held on to my hand rather too long when he spied Alistair glowering at us, and smirked at me cheekily, one eyebrow raised in question. I just shook my head.

 A servant was sent to fetch Solona and Jowan, and others took our gear to our rooms. Once again we borrowed the Redcliffe library for a meeting space. I was standing in the hallway outside the library, chatting with Anders and ignoring Alistair’s dirty looks at the blond mage, when he suddenly stopped, mid-sentence, his pasty complexion getting even paler, his mouth dropping open.

 I turned to see what he was looking at, and saw Solona standing there with Jowan, exactly the same expression on her face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that they knew each other. Jowan just looked uncomfortable and sad.

 “Solona?” Anders turned accusing eyes on me. “You conscripted her? You didn’t tell me it was her.”

 “I volunteered, Anders. And why would she have known that I knew you?” Solona answered for me.

 He looked down at me again, and I shook my head. “No, I didn’t know. And no, she doesn’t know about my, um, talent for foresight.”

 Anders looked back to her, and the expression on his face changed. It went from anger and shock to some sort of warm, painful longing. He stepped past me, walking towards her slowly, almost looking drunk. She watched him come, expression unreadable. When he got close, he reached out and took her hands, intertwining his own fingers with her. She allowed it, but it was clear she didn’t squeeze back.

 “Solona.” His voice was a caress, exactly how I’d pictured it from the romance options in DA2. “Love?”

 She pulled her hands away like she’d been burned. “Love, Anders? Now, you would speak to me of love?” She marched around him, and into the library. I winced on his behalf, seeing the stricken expression on his face. I reached out to pat his shoulder, and encourage him to follow us into the library.

 Realising it was Grey Warden business, the rest of our companions had scattered; Jowan went to follow them, but Tomas gestured for him to enter, leaving me in the library with Tomas, Aedan, Alistair, and the three possible recruits. We all sat, Anders watching Solona as hungrily as Prince watched a slab of meat, and the beautiful mage ignoring him entirely. Tomas cleared his throat.

 “We came back, because we are now able to move forward with the Joining. Solona and Anders, you are recruits. From here on in, you will comport yourselves as Grey Wardens. You are no longer volunteers, and you cannot choose to leave. Jowan, I bring you a choice. Arl Eamon has decided to send you back to the Circle, where you will be made Tranquil.”

 “I figured as much.” To his credit, he didn’t rail against his fate. “I deserve nothing more, after all I’ve done.”

 “I bring you another choice. I can, instead, conscript you to the Grey Wardens. We do not discriminate against blood mages as the Chantry does; you would be outside their purview. However, I will also warn you, as I have done for Solona: becoming a Grey Warden is dangerous, and changes you forever. Fate may choose for you to make your sacrifice now, instead of later.”

 The mage sat thoughtfully for a few moments. “I am honoured by the offer.” He was oddly formal, without whining. Solemn, even. I was impressed. “I accept. I would like the chance to make amends for what I’ve done, and that will be difficult as a Tranquil. If I die, death will be my atonement.”

 Tomas nodded. “Then this is what we must do. Aedan, you must ready your charges for battle: get them fed and equipped as best you can from the armoury here and the blacksmith in the village. Tomorrow at first light, the four of you will head east, towards Lothering, until you find darkspawn. You will each gather a vial of darkspawn blood from your own kills. When you return, we will see to the Joining.” Tomas gave a coin purse to Aedan to buy what he needed; it was the same one Aedan had given to Tomas after Denerim.

 The predictable questions about what they required darkspawn blood for ensued, and Tomas dodged them, as always. I could see, though, that they all had a good idea; honestly, it wasn’t exactly rocket science. Aedan rounded the three mages up, introduced them all to Prince, and headed up to the armoury to find what they needed. The rest of us were to have a couple of days of rest while we waited for the recruits to return. I wondered what would happen between Solona and Anders while they were gone.


	67. Child Protection

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Child Protection

 Without a purpose, I wandered the castle aimlessly. I found Connor, excitedly talking with a Circle mage I vaguely recognised from the ritual that had saved the young mage. I left them alone, as it seemed the mage was teaching Connor, and I didn’t want to interrupt. I then ran into Teagan, who pulled me aside.

 “Dare I ask what my sort-of nephew did?”

 “Pardon?”

 “I’m not an idiot. I see the guilt in his eyes when he looks at you, and you avoiding eye contact. I know how you feel about him, and any idiot can tell he loves you, so I repeat: what did he do?”

 I sighed. “He didn’t trust me.”

 “You can tell me, Sierra. I won’t judge. You should be allowed to talk about what happened if you need to.”

 “I don’t need to. I’d really rather not talk about it. I kept some information secret to save someone else’s feelings, and he didn’t trust that I might not have had some ulterior motive for it. And that’s that. I disgust him, Teagan. I’ll never forget that expression.”

 He sighed. “I am sorry, my dear. I had hoped…well, it doesn’t matter now. Just know, if you need somewhere to stay, you can always come here or Rainesfere. I can protect you, if need be.”

 “Why Teagan, are you flirting with me?”

 He grinned. “Of course! You are a beautiful woman, Sierra.” His expression grew serious. “I mean it though. I wouldn’t pressure you, or expect anything. I am not trying to seduce you or gain your affection. But I know you don’t have a lot of options, and you shouldn’t be stuck following him if it causes you pain.”

 I patted his cheek. “You’re very sweet, Teagan. And I appreciate the offer. But my place is with Aedan and the Grey Wardens. Thank you, though.”

 He nodded, and with a bit more small talk, excused himself to meet with Eamon.

 I kept wandering, ending up out in the training yard. I watched some of the knights sparring for a while, and decided to put on my armour and join them. I slipped in through the kitchen entrance as a shortcut to my usual room, where I assumed my things had been taken. I made it only a few feet into the kitchen when I heard the disturbance.

 There were loud voices, and a slap that sounded as though someone had been hit. I ran around the corner, only to stop in utter shock.

 Cowering on the floor was a young boy, who couldn’t have been more than seven years old. He was filthy, wearing clothes that were two sizes too small, and emaciated. His arms were up over his head, as though to protect himself from blows; the bruises, one on his face and several on his arms, showed just how necessary that protection was.

 And standing over him, screaming in Orlesian, was Isolde. She held a wooden spoon, obviously taken from the hand of the cook who was standing next to her, crying silently. I watched in absolute horror as Isolde raised her arm and brought the spoon down across the boy’s forearms, leaving a bright red welt. He yelped and tried to curl tighter; she raised her arm again.

I didn’t even think; I jumped across the kitchen in two steps, grabbing Isolde’s hand before she could smack the child again, ripping the spoon out of her grasp.

 “What is going on here?” I thundered, and Isolde spun to face me.

 “You!” Isolde screamed back. “You will not interfere! This boy is guilty of theft, and-“

 To his credit, the youngster jumped up from the ground, his dirty cheeks tracked with tears, expression defiant despite the bruises and swelling on his face. “I didn’t steal nothin’!” he cried, wiping his nose on his dirty sleeve, smearing the dirt further. “I was just carrying water like Cook said, for all the guests. I didn’t take nothin’!”

 “Then what happened to the wheel of Orlesian cheese I brought in?” the noblewoman shouted. “It didn’t just eat itself, now did it?” She pulled at her arm, still held tightly in my grip, as though to strike the child again. I didn’t let go, and grabbed her other wrist in my other hand just in case. My new strength from the Joining helped, as did weeks of constant travel and sparring; the soft noblewoman had no chance.

 Looking at the gaunt figure before me, I knew there was no way the kid had eaten an entire wheel of cheese. His stomach would have been distended half-way across the room if he had. And regardless, there was no excuse for beating a starving boy for eating something, even if he had stolen it. The cook gestured to the kid, and he slid halfway behind her protective arm.

 “Isolde! He is a child. Look at him! He no more stole your cheese than Andraste herself did.”

 “I am the Arlessa here, and I will have you arrested for assaulting me, you slattern!” She struggled again. “You have no right to interfere in how I discipline my servants!”

 “You will not strike this child again, Arlessa, or so help me, you’ll be needing help to chew your food for the rest of your days. You will desist or you will suffer, do you hear me?”

 I shook her once to make my point, and released her arms. I turned to the kid and gestured; he came forward into the protective circle of my arms. I knelt down to look him in the eye.

 “What’s your name, kid?”

 “Blake, my Lady.”

 “How old are you, Blake?”

 “Eleven, my Lady.”

 “Eleven!” I was shocked; the kid barely came up to my shoulder, and I wasn’t exactly tall. Looking at him, I realised that his stature was a result of chronic malnutrition. I’d have bet he hadn’t felt truly full since he’d been weaned as a babe. “Where are your parents?”

 He sniffled. “Dead, my Lady. Da was a kennel master, he died a long time ago, and Ma was a scullery maid here until…until…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence; I knew. _Until the undead, released by Isolde’s stupidity and selfishness, killed half of the residents of Redcliffe._

 “So where do you live now?”

 “The Arl said I could sleep in the stables, if I worked hard to pay my keep, my Lady.”

 Isolde interrupted. “You see? My husband grants this churl a place to live and a job, and he repays that kindness with thievery.”

 I stood so abruptly that it startled poor Blake; he stumbled back with a small cry. I just about to leap upon Isolde, intent on returning the child’s torment a hundred-fold on the harridan’s hide, when strong arms circled me from behind, pinning my arms, holding me back.

 “What exactly is going on here?” The voice, which I placed immediately, sounded amused. Blake and the unfortunate cook sank down onto their knees, and Isolde folded herself into a curtsy, murmuring “Your Majesty.”

 I turned as he released me, rolling my eyes. _So much for his identity remaining a secret!_ I knew Aedan and Tomas would be furious. “Theron.” It seemed there was little point to hiding his identity now, but I would try anyway. Isolde jumped back up at my casual use of his alias. “I found this…woman, beating this defenseless child with a wooden spoon, accusing him of theft.”

 “And you became involved because…”

 “Are you joking? That harpy says the kid stole a wheel of cheese. You think a kid that poorly nourished could have somehow hidden an entire bloody wheel of cheese, or eaten it in a single sitting? A wheel of cheese probably weighs more than he does!”

 Theron flushed. “Um, a wheel of Orlesian sharp, by chance?”

 “Maker, don’t even tell me. Love of cheese runs in the family, I see. You took the cheese, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

 He reddened even further. “It’s possible, yes.”

 I turned back to Isolde. “Next time, perhaps you should do some investigation into your charges before you start beating the nearest innocent servant!”

 “You will address me with the respect I am owed as Arlessa! And you will not hamper my discipline of a servant in my castle, regardless of the circumstances, is that clear?”

 Theron grabbed me again, as I moved to slap the harpy’s face. “You may be an Arlessa, but I am the daughter of a Teyrn, and I outrank you, you shrew. And if you didn’t make a habit of forcing those you are responsible for to sleep in the stables, beating them without provocation, and unleashing undead horrors upon them, perhaps I wouldn’t have needed to interfere!”

 Theron tried to hush me, but I spun to face him again. “That child sleeps in the stable, Theron. His parents died in service to the Arl. He’s never had enough to eat in his entire life. He doesn’t have appropriate clothes, and when do you think the last time he had a bath was? This is how _your brother_ lived, until this harridan chased him off and sold him to the Chantry. This is not an isolated instance. You think that’s the appropriate way to treat a servant, or any child? This is not Tevinter, and they are not slaves. Servants are not thieves, and those who are cannot help themselves.” I felt very Drew Barrymore-esque, stealing lines from a movie.

 “They can’t?” Theron’s expression was wry, and he held up his hand to forestall Isolde, who was about to interrupt.

 “There was a philosopher named Thomas More where I came from…let me see if I can remember the quote. ‘If you suffer your people to be ill-educated, and their manners to be corrupted from infancy, and then punish them for the crimes to which their first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded, but that you first make thieves, and then punish them?’”

 Isolde looked incensed, while Theron merely looked thoughtful. I continued, “Perhaps if the servants were fed, clothed, and cared for properly, you wouldn’t have to worry about them stealing food, yes?”

 I held my hand out toward Blake, and he scrambled up from his knees to take my hand. I turned to Isolde. “You do not need to worry about _so kindly_ providing for this child anymore. I will take care of it. But so help me, if I hear of another child in this castle being treated in such a disgraceful way, I will convince my brother to bring the full might of Highever down on you after the Blight. And I expect your full support when I do, _Your Majesty_.” I made a passable curtsy, which probably looked strange in my pants and shirt, and left the kitchen, Blake in tow.

 I was almost in tears, enraged to the point that my body didn’t know how else to react, but I knew if I cried, poor Blake would probably lose it. I stifled my tears, determined to take it out on a practice dummy later. I looked down at the poor kid, wondering what I was going to do with him now. I realised I had the same priorities with him as with Anders: healing, food, and a bath. That gave me the nudge I needed to head in the right direction.

 I headed up the stairs into the guest wing, not releasing Blake’s hand. His murmured objections told me what I needed to know – he didn’t feel safe, and I wasn’t going to let go until he did. I flagged down a passing servant and asked them to bring up a plate of food to my room, and to have water brought up for a bath. Then I continued down the hall, right past my room, and knocked on a door near the end.

 Wynne opened the door, smiling when she saw me; her smile turned into a frown when she spied the unwashed, bruised child at my side. She stepped back so we could enter.

 “Sierra?”

 “Wynne, this is Blake. He needs healing.” The mage looked down at him, and then back at me in confusion. “I know, Wynne, and I’ll explain later, but please. He’s been beaten, and I’m guessing it’s not the first time.”

 Hers eyes softening with pity for a child so mistreated, she turned to the boy and knelt down beside him. “This won’t hurt, child. I’m here to help you.”

 I felt her aura flare, and then the steady light of one of her diagnostic scans; after a moment, her frown deepened and I felt the start of the healing. I watched as the bruises on his arms and face aged and disappeared, then the swelling recede. He flinched and gripped his elbow with the other hand, then released it with a sigh and a smile. After a few seconds, she was done, and I helped her to her feet.

 “He’s going to need food, Sierra. A lot of it. He’s extremely malnourished.”

 “I noticed.”

 “His bruises are healed, and I also fixed his arm – he had a pulled elbow as an infant that was never healed properly. He’ll need to work the arm to build up strength in the muscles, though. And he has a bunch of other old, healed fractures, but it’s too late to fix them, or the scars on his back.”

 “Thanks, Wynne.” I kissed her cheek, and to my surprise, Blake flung his arms around her waist in thanks. The tears in my eyes threatened again; such a small kindness should not be worthy of that sort of gratitude. I took his hand and led him back down the hall.

 Alistair was walking up the stairs, and told me he’d been looking for me; I gestured for him to come with us into my room. The platter of food was sitting on a little table, and I put Blake on a chair and told him to eat until he felt sick. He looked at my face, assessing my sincerity; when I nodded and smiled, he grinned and dug in.

 I turned back to Alistair.

 “I hear you had a bit of a row with Arlessa Isolde.”

 “That’s putting it lightly. She was beating this kid, and he didn’t even do what she was accusing him of. I put a stop to it.”

 “And threatened to knock out her teeth?”

 I blushed. “That was perhaps hasty of me, but…seriously! The kid’s so malnourished he’s half the height he should be. I swear, I should have just encouraged Aedan to use Jowan’s blood magic ritual to save Connor, and then we’d be spared having to put up with her.”

 He looked away, and I couldn’t quite interpret his expression. “What are you going to do with him now?”

 I faltered. “I’m not sure, exactly. Feed and clothe him, first, and get him a bath. After that?” I shrugged helplessly. “Would you help me? I don’t want to leave him alone, but I’m thinking it’s not appropriate for me to be with him while he bathes.”

 He looked over at the kid, who was still stuffing his face as fast as he could. Alistair grinned, and I looked over to see juice from an apple running down his chin.

 “Blake! Chew your food. Yikes!”

 He looked over at me, and made exaggerated chewing motions. “Yes, my Lady.”

 I rolled my eyes and turned back to Alistair. “Please?”

 He sighed. “Do I have to wash him?”

 “Maybe his back, but otherwise I’m sure he’s quite capable. But maybe remind him to be thorough? If I recall being eleven properly, making sure I scrubbed every square inch wasn’t high on my list of priorities.” I grinned, and he laughed. “I’ll go see if I can round up some appropriate clothes. Give him one of my shirts to lounge in if I’m not back when he’s done.”

 I left the two there, just as the servants started bringing in buckets of hot water. I descended the stairs, and went down to the main entrance, happy not to run into Isolde. I left, and found Wayne out near the training yard. He smiled at me as I approached.

 “Aren’t you just a little firecracker, my Lady!”

 I sighed. “You heard, did you?”

 “I doubt anyone at the castle hasn’t. But don’t worry. We all know better than to go gossiping around the villagers. No one else will know.”

 “Oh good.” I rolled my eyes. “Okay so what I’m really here for – I need some clothes. For a kid. Any ideas? I was hoping maybe you had some from one of the younger knights, or…I don’t know.”

 He frowned. “I don’t get kids as small as that, typically…your best bet is down in the village. How about I accompany you down there?”

 “You don’t have to do that, Wayne.”

 “Well, the daughter of a Teyrn shouldn’t be wandering around alone, my Lady.”

  _I wonder in how many ways that’s going to come back to bite me in the ass?_ I sighed again. “I’m no more a Lady than you are, Wayne, regardless of my parentage. But if you promise to go back to calling me Sierra, I’ll let you accompany me if it makes you feel better.”

 “Done. Let’s go.”

 The two of us walked down the slope to town, and Wayne recommended the general store, assuming I didn’t want custom clothing made. I bought several pairs of pants, several shirts, a belt in case the pants didn’t fit, a cloak, and a pair of boots that were likely quite a bit too large, as well as several pairs of socks. Wayne picked out some small clothes, which I also purchased, and we went back up to the castle. I went inside with a smile, knocking on the door to my room and handing the clothes to Alistair when he opened it a crack. I agreed to meet them in the library, and headed down there to wait.

 It didn’t take long; I barely recognised the clean, unbruised, smiling child wearing clean, if slightly too large clothes that entered the library holding hands with Alistair. Alistair looked a little bit freaked – I was guessing he had precisely zero experience with kids – but he relaxed when Blake skipped over to me. He sat on an ottoman at my feet and gazed up at me silently.

 “How do you feel, Blake?”

 “Wonderful, my Lady! Are all those clothes you bought for me?” I nodded. “I’ve never had more than one pair of trousers. And a cloak! Thank you, my Lady!”

 I smiled. “Alright, first things first, I am not your Lady. You will call me Sierra, okay?”

 “Of course, my Lady Sierra!”

 I sighed, and Alistair laughed. “No, I really mean just Sierra. No titles, okay?”

 He gave me a skeptical look, and Alistair laughed harder.

 “What will happen to me now, my L-…Sierra? The Arlessa isn’t going to be happy with me when you leave.”

 I ruffled his damp hair. “I’ll figure something out. For now, let’s have lunch.”

 “My Lady?”

 “Lunch is the meal between breakfast and supper.” He gave me a funny look, and I grinned and stuck my tongue out at him. “Come on.”

 


	68. Smack Down

Chapter Sixty-Eight: Smack Down

 We headed into the main hall, and found Teagan, Eamon, Theron, Tomas, and most of my companions already gathered, with the exception of the four who would be leaving the next day. To my relief, Isolde was nowhere to be seen. I gulped and then led Blake across the room, pulling him by the hand. I sat down, drawing the kid down beside me, and Alistair sat on his other side. I smiled gratefully at him and began piling a plate with food before handing it to Blake and filling another for myself.

No one said anything to me, and the conversation resumed around the table. I could feel the weight of Eamon’s gaze on me, but ignored it as best I could. When Teagan caught my eye he winked, and I looked away and grinned. Tomas was frowning, and Theron just looked smug. Everyone else kept sneaking glances at Blake, who ate self-consciously, too hungry to pick at his food nervously. After a few more minutes, Theron cleared his throat.

 “Sierra, I’ve been thinking about what you said. Could you explain that quote you told me to everyone else?”

 Eamon glared at him, and I almost laughed. Swallowing my bite, I wiped my lips with a napkin and then repeated the quote for everyone. Theron nodded and made a ‘go on’ motion.

“Well, it’s sort of self-evident, isn’t it? I mean, say you’re born an elf and you live in the Alienage. Your parents are probably poor and uneducated. Now they have an extra mouth to feed. You grow up with no training or skills to get a job, and no way to get training because you’re poor and uneducated. You still, presumably, want to eat. So you steal. How do you blame someone who has never had any opportunity to get out of that vicious cycle? Of course people steal. And I’m not saying everyone who steals is like that – I’m sure there are those who are just greedy, or like the thrill of it; look at Rendon Howe, for a large-scale example of that. But the little people who steal aren’t doing it for power or even for fun. They’re just trying to fill their empty bellies.” I glanced around, seeing Leli and Alistair smiling at me, and Teagan and Theron looking highly amused. I felt defensive and irritated, and I’m sure it showed.

 “So what would you suggest?”

 “Well, for one, the little ones should go to school. If they can read and write, do numbers, that sort of thing? They might be able to get a job. Work for a shop owner, or even open a business for themselves. And those businesses are taxed, so they eventually pay back what it cost to educate them.

 “I mean, why doesn’t the Chantry do that? It seems to me the best way to keep people having faith is to educate them. They can teach religion while they teach reading, and suddenly maybe people are a little more devout, a little more dedicated to the Chantry, in addition to being able to do something with themselves other than steal.” My mouth started to run away with me, and I didn’t know how to stop it, so I just brashly carried on.

 “And why doesn’t the Chantry do better helping the poor people? Isn’t that the point of a charity? They should be running soup kitchens and clinics, and using the Chantry buildings as places of refuge for the homeless. That’s what many of them do where I’m from. I can’t understand why it doesn’t happen here. And what about the noblewomen? I understand some of them fight, but most of them don’t. Is there any reason that they are not out, among their people, teaching or healing or running charities? I’m sorry, I’m sure this sounds offensive, but your culture is extremely ridiculous and barbaric.”

 Theron laughed right out loud, and I grimaced at him. _No matter what I said, laughing at me is just rude_. Seeing my face, he tried to stifle his laugh.

 “Oh, I’m not laughing at you, Sierra. I’m laughing at the response I’m imagining in the Landsmeet and with the Grand Cleric when I take you with me to tell them what you just told me. I want you to say it just exactly like you did now, too, no trying to cushion the blow for them.”

 I must have still looked confused, because Teagan finally took pity on me. “There have been those in the nobility who have been campaigning for exactly what you’ve been talking about for years. Maric started it, his son continued it, and several other nobles have been working towards the same goal. In Highever, and Waking Sea, and Rainesfere, for example. Some, though, have pushed back, saying it’s not their job to elevate the ignorant peasants.”

 His willpower was impressive; he didn’t look at his brother, whose face was pink with embarrassment (or anger, I wasn’t sure), but it was obvious that Eamon was among those who didn’t feel they needed to make any effort on behalf of the poor. I decided I’d pretend I didn’t know, and rub it in a bit more.

 I put on my best innocent expression. “Well, I suppose I can imagine that people like Bann Ceorlic, or Arl Howe would feel that way; they’re clearly deranged anyway, and that sounds like something such unenlightened men would agree with wholeheartedly. I’m so grateful to be surrounded by much better people, ones who care about others and not just themselves.”

 Tomas, across from me, aimed a kick at my shins, and I gasped; unarmoured, it really hurt! I scowled at him, and he gave me an exasperated look in return. In contrast, Theron had a huge smile on his face, and Teagan seemed to be hiding a laugh behind his hand in the guise of a cough. Eamon tried his best to keep his expression neutral, pretending that I hadn’t been including him in my sweeping generalisation.

 “Yes, well, this has been a fascinating conversation, but I believe lunch is over. Perhaps later this afternoon, _Lady_ Sierra, I could have the honour of a conversation in my study?” Eamon’s lemon-face wasn’t quite amusing enough to distract from my concern.

 I nodded, knowing I was going to be called on what I said to Isolde _. I need backup._ “When Aedan has a moment, we’d be pleased to see you at your convenience, your Grace.”

 Theron jumped in. “Might I be included in this conversation?” He winked at me.

 Eamon sighed. “Of course.”

 “I’ll just go find Aedan then.”

 I stood to exit the main hall, unsurprised to have almost everyone except Eamon follow me, wanting to know what was going on. I sent Blake up to my room and told him to take a nap – he was appalled that I wanted him to nap on my bed, but I insisted – and dragged everyone else into the library. I told them what had happened, including everything Isolde said, with Theron adding in comments when I forgot something.

 Teagan was tickled pink by the whole thing, and wrapped me in a hug, making me laugh. Tomas, on the other hand, was completely exasperated. He didn’t disagree with me, but seemed to despair my inability to manage it politely. I stuck my tongue out at him.

 “And exactly how far do you think I would have gotten by asking her politely to stop beating a child to death?”

 Which was of course, exactly when Aedan came in, followed by the three mage recruits. Anders had on some clothes that actually fit, and was carrying a pack full of what looked like armoured robes, as well as a new staff; Solona and Jowan also had packs that were full to bursting. “Beating who to death?”

I sighed and shuffled over to him for a hug. “I’ve gotten myself in trouble.”

 “What did you do this time, sister dearest?”

 I went through the explanation again, and was relieved to see nothing but fury when I told him what Isolde had done. He didn’t even blink when I told him about telling Isolde about my parentage. He gave Theron a surprised look when I explained how he had stopped me from doing anything rash, and had backed me up.

 I told him we were expected to meet with Eamon, and he rolled his eyes. “He can whine all he wants; if he can’t control that hag of a wife, then we can’t be expected not to step in. Don’t worry.”

 Theron spoke up. “So, what are you going to do with the kid, now?”

 I sighed. “No idea. I hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead. I can’t leave him here, that’s for sure – Isolde will probably have the kid locked in the dungeon, accusing him of stealing the clothes I gave him.”

 “I’ve got an idea,” Theron offered. “When we get back to Denerim, I will need a manservant to help me. Eamon, I’m sure, will offer me someone of his, since I’m sure Loghain will have sacked most of my staff by now. I’d prefer to have someone with no other political loyalties. I don’t usually even let Anora hire my personal staff. I can train the lad, while we’re here, and extend my protection to him; Isolde won’t dare to touch my manservant, I don’t think.”

 “He doesn’t read, I don’t think, and all he’s ever done is grunt work. He won’t be very much help at first.”

 “That’s why having him start now is a good idea; I can have him ready for when we get to Denerim.”

 “You will teach him to read?”

 Theron nodded, and I considered. It was actually an exceptionally generous offer, and I imagined the work required of a manservant would be much less soul-crushing than grunt work in Redcliffe’s kitchen. “I’ll talk to him about it this afternoon, and bring him to you this evening if he agrees.”

 He looked surprised. “And if he doesn’t?”

 “Then I’ll figure something else out. Where I come from, everyone gets a choice. I won’t be like Isolde; child or not, he can choose.” I turned back to Theron, scowling. “And by the way, what the hell is with all the curtsying and Isolde calling you ‘Your Majesty’? I thought we’d been clear that no one was to know your identity.”

 He flushed. “Actually, it started about the same way as your discussion with Isolde – she got angry with a ‘mercenary’ who was allowed to wander the castle at will and was sleeping in a fancy guest room instead of the barracks; she started shouting at me, and tried to kick me out. I even told her who I was; she didn’t believe me, and slapped me. Teagan had to step in and stop her. I wasn’t very sympathetic to her, after that, and let it go a bit too far with humiliating her; the staff caught on. Don’t worry, they’ve all been threatened within an inch of their lives if they tell absolutely anyone who I am. They’re all terrified of Isolde already; I don’t think they’ll betray me.”

 “I suppose I can’t blame you for that. I didn’t exactly do better.”

 Everyone broke up, going their separate ways for the afternoon; Theron asked if he could talk to me before I left, and Aedan insisted on staying as well. We waited while everyone filed out, laughing and chatting about what I’d done. Finally we were alone in the library.

 Theron ran his hand through his hair, still short but with blond roots and the brown colour fading; it was a familiar gesture, one that I saw from Alistair every time he was uncomfortable. I almost laughed.

 “Look, I just wanted to apologise. For everything.” He glanced at me, and seeing my eyes narrow, hurried on. “I swear, Sierra, I wasn’t actually trying to do anything to you, that day in the basement. I truly followed you out of curiosity, and then when I saw you there…I called out to you, shouted a couple of times, actually, but you couldn’t hear me over the sound of the water. I should have just left, but I…actually, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I swear I had no intention of wrongdoing. And then when you overcame me so easily, I was embarrassed, and then offended when you seemed so…friendly, with Aedan, and I just….” He trailed off, looking sad and vulnerable.

 I waited, and finally relented. “I’m guessing no one’s ever said no to you before.”

 He nodded, avoiding my eyes. “True. And I handled it poorly, obviously. I just wanted to say I was sorry. I am probably exactly the entitled brat you think I am, but I realise I need to change that if I want to turn this country around, and that includes how I treat others. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

 I studied his face, and couldn’t see anything except sincerity behind his words. I nodded. “Apology accepted. And I’m sorry I over-reacted, too. I wasn’t exactly feeling safe, in Ferelden just in general, and I was probably a bit on edge. I shouldn’t have accused you of…”

“Being a pervert? Not that you actually said that, though I’m sure you thought it. And, wait, what did you call me? Pampered and spoiled?” I blushed. “You weren’t wrong. And I’m sorry.”

 “How about we just pretend it never happened? You never saw me naked, and I never held a dagger to your throat?” Aedan choked at the details, and I chuckled.

“Deal.” He smiled, and offered me his hand, which I shook. “So, um…you’re a Cousland?”

I told him about meeting Bryce’s spirit, and about discovering Aedan and I had the same birthday. “So obviously I can’t exactly prove anything, but…yes. I think I probably am.”

 Aedan put his arm around my shoulders. “I don’t need proof. Even my mabari knows it’s true.”

 “Or maybe he just likes me better.”

 Aedan ruffled my hair. “What’s not to like?” Prince barked, and we laughed.

 Theron just smiled at us both, somewhat wistfully. “I’m happy for you both to have found some family. I always wished for a sibling, growing up…”

 “Well, you have one now, you know. You could always, I don’t know, go say hi sometime…”

 He flushed. “I just might. Would…would you mind being there, if I do? You seem to be good at diffusing awkward situations.”

 “Or making them worse,” I laughed. “Of course, I’d be happy to help, if Alistair is okay with that. We’ll be in Redcliffe for a couple of days, anyway – you just let me know.” I sighed. “So shall we go get lectured in Eamon’s office? I’m not exactly looking forward to that, but…”

 Aedan nodded, and we followed Theron out of the library and to the door of Eamon’s study. I’d been in it before – to find Alistair’s mother’s amulet, of course – but otherwise we’d always just used the library for a meeting place. Eamon’s study wasn’t small, but it was quite formal. He had a few hard-backed chairs, some ugly family portraits, and a large desk; there was a hearth along one wall, but it wasn’t lit, leaving the room chilly. He gestured for us all to sit.

He turned his gaze to me. “I’d like to know what exactly you thought you were doing, in the kitchens today, with the _Arlessa_?”

His emphasis on her title put me on the defensive, and I felt my shoulders tense. Before I could say anything, Theron cut in.

 “She was preventing your wife from accidentally murdering a child, Eamon. I saw the whole thing. Honestly, Sierra stepping in prevented me from doing something infinitely worse. If I’d been the one to stop her, Isolde would be sitting in your dungeon right now, _Uncle_.”

 Eamon scowled at Theron. “I’d like to hear it directly from the _lady_ , if you don’t mind.”

 Calmer from knowing at least Theron supported me, I replied. “I was cutting through the kitchen on the way to my room when I came upon the Arlessa hitting a child with a spoon. The child in question already had several welts on his arms and face, as well as some older bruises, so clearly that wasn’t the first time. I grabbed her arm and took away the spoon, and asked her what she thought she was doing. She accused the child of stealing an entire wheel of Orlesian cheddar. When he denied it, she tried to hit him again, and I restrained her again.” I was grateful I didn’t have to admit to more than restraining her; physically all I’d done was hold her arms.

 “Theron came in, admitted that he’d eaten the cheese, and then your wife started shouting at me for interfering. Theron held me back from slapping her, which I really, really wanted to do; I told her that technically I outrank her and that I was taking over as guardian for the kid. I also told her if I ever heard rumours of similar atrocities being perpetrated on helpless children or servants that there would be consequences.”

 Eamon’s expression was neutral, but his face was quite purple. I took another deep breath and kept going before he could interrupt me. “And then I took the kid, and had him healed – he had several broken bones, did you know that? In addition to having been whipped enough to leave scars. He is severely malnourished, and his growth may be permanently restricted because of it. Anyways, I gave him a bath, and bought him some clothes that actually fit, and got him fed.

 “Frankly, you can do whatever you want with me; it was the right call. That child’s parents worked for you, _Arl_ Eamon. His mother was killed as a direct result of your wife’s actions. And you had him starved, sleeping in the stables, wearing clothes that barely counted as decent, and being beaten regularly.”

“That isn’t any concern of yours.” Eamon narrowed his eyes at me.

 “Are you joking?” I interrupted him, talking over his attempt to speak. “Tell me you’re joking. Abuse of a child is everyone’s concern. Every decent person, anyway, though perhaps I shouldn’t expect you to be one of those. I know this isn’t the first time she’s treated a child like that, and if someone doesn’t stop her, it won’t be the last, either. She’s a horror, your Grace. I am unsure if it’s true evil, or just sheer selfishness and stupidity. And that’s not even bringing up the whole ‘Connor being an abomination’ situation, which she brought about, allowing your poisoning to happen and your village to be decimated. I don’t recall her ever apologising for any of that, or for the way she treated Alistair, either. It may not have been you that did the things she’s done, but you should have stopped her, and I hold you equally responsible.”

 I was breathing hard by the end of my rant; Aedan looked dazed by my outburst, but Theron gave me a broad smile. Eamon actually looked vaguely ashamed, though not nearly as much as he should. He changed the subject without comment.

 “Explain to me how you outrank my wife, the Arlessa?”

 “I’m the long-lost daughter of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland. I’m vague on the details, I admit, but I’m pretty sure a daughter of a Teyrn outranks the wife of an Arl.” I looked at Aedan and Theron. “Doesn’t it?”

 They nodded, and Eamon looked thoughtful. “Do you have any proof of this parentage?”

 “Not really. Though it doesn’t matter; I’ve no plans to claim any rights to Highever or any of that. I’d prefer to be just a woman, not some snooty noble. But if claiming my heritage is what it takes to stop someone from beating a child, then I’ll use what I have to.”

 “You realise that with no proof, I could have you arrested for assault on the Arlessa.”

 Theron and Aedan were both on their feet before I could respond, both with hands on sword hilts. Eamon’s eyes widened.

 Theron spoke first. “Try it, uncle. I will not have this woman detained, or tortured in your dungeon like that idiot Jowan, for preventing your harpy of a wife from killing someone. Keep in mind that the only reason Isolde and Connor are both alive at all right now is because Sierra convinced everyone not to go forward with either killing your son as an abomination or using your wife’s life force to allow him to be saved. She convinced everyone to go to the Circle instead. If that’s not enough reason for you to drop this and rein in your wife, then perhaps this will do it: I fully support Sierra in this matter. If you persist, you will find yourself stripped of your Arling, and your wife deported back to Orlais where she belongs. The same goes for having servants, especially children, beaten, starved, or left to sleep in the stables in future. Have I made myself clear?”

 Eamon nodded, pale and looking a bit ill. I wanted to dance with joy. Of all the things I’d always wanted to say in game and never got the chance, taking Eamon down a peg was at the top of my list. Right after scolding Cailan, which I’d already done. I hoped it wouldn’t cause problems later, but really, the stuff that was happening couldn’t continue, and Theron didn’t need Eamon as much as Alistair would have. And as much as Eamon was a gigantic pain in the ass, I think he legitimately was a traditionalist, and as such, a Theirin supporter. I hoped it would be enough for him to listen to Theron.

 And I was suddenly intensely glad that Theron and I had been able to mend fences.

 Aedan took my hand and led me out of Eamon’s study. I managed not to until we were out of sight, but I started shaking almost the moment we got out. Aedan put his arm around me, half-dragging me further away while also trying to offer comfort. He found an unused guest room a couple of hallways down, pulled me into it, and then hugged me.

 “If I know you, you’re shaking more in rage than anxiety.”

I chuckled softly. “You got me. Not going across the desk to throttle him was one of the hardest things I think I’ve ever done.”

 “If it makes you feel better, I think it will be at least somewhat effective. Eamon is terrified of losing his influence at court; he can’t afford to piss Theron off too badly. And I have to give credit where it’s due; Theron was amazing in there.”

 “Gives me hope maybe the King won’t be a complete idiot.”

 “I know, right?”

 I sighed. “I wish you weren’t going off with the mages to collect darkspawn blood. I want you to stay here.”

 “Me too – sleeping cold on the ground does not appeal – but Zev and Shale are coming with me, so it won’t be just the four of us. Zev already knows everything anyway, and Shale won’t care that we’re collecting blood. She just wants to squish something.”

 I had to admit I felt better that they’d have the golem with them to ‘tank’, and I knew Zev would never let anything happen to Aedan.

 “So what do you think the story is with Anders and Solona?” Aedan asked.

“I dunno. I had no idea they knew each other. And with Anders’ rather free-loving reputation, I’m confused.”

 “Well, this trip ought to be interesting, anyway.”

 I hummed agreement. “I suppose I should check in on Blake.”

“And I’d better check on my recruits. Tomas is kind of scary when he’s in recruiting mode, hey?”

 I laughed. “I’m just glad it’s you, not me. Go. I’ll see you at supper.”

 I headed up to my room, and found a sleeping child curled up on my bed with a completely self-satisfied grin on his face. I smiled softly and settled into the armchair to wait until he woke.


	69. Reconciling Differences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the original unedited version of this story including explicit sex scenes. If that's not your thing, please see this story on fanfiction .net using the same author name for a non-explicit version...
> 
> Yes, the chapter number is prophetic. *giggle*

Chapter Sixty-Nine: Reconciling Differences

 I must have dozed myself, because I woke to a startled gasp as Blake sat up and practically leapt off my bed. His hair was all stuck up on one side of his head, his expression groggy but horrified.

 “Blake? What’s wrong, kiddo?”

 “My Lady, I’m so sorry, I took your bed, and-“

“Blake. Calm down, okay? I told you to sleep on the bed. And I’m just Sierra, remember? There’s no need to be afraid. No one is going to hurt you anymore. I swear it.” I pulled him over to me, wrapping my arms around his frail shoulders and hugging him. He was stiff for just a moment, and then seemed to relax and return the hug.

 “I’m just so afraid all the time.” He buried his face in my shoulder and his hands gripped my shirt.

 I hugged him tighter. “You don’t have to be anymore.”

 “But the Arlessa…”

 “Listen.” I pulled him to half sit in my lap, as he seemed to be comforted by the contact. “I have some stuff to talk to you about. But I want you to know that the Arlessa will never lay a hand on you again. No one will, or they’ll have to face me, and I’m not afraid of the Arlessa, okay?”

 He nodded, seemingly reassured.

 “So. First things first. Do you read or write at all?”

 “Sort of, my L- Sierra. My ma tried to teach me sometimes, when she wasn’t working. But we didn’t have any books or things, so I’m not very good.”

 “Okay. Tell me, have you ever thought about what you’d do, if you could do anything? Not like being King – obviously that’s impossible – but I mean, have you ever wanted to be a knight, or a scholar, or anything?”

 “I’ve never thought about it.” He scrunched up his nose. “I don’t think I’d be a very good knight. I’m too little.”

 “Hmm. I have an opportunity for you. I’m going to tell you all about it, and then you can tell me if it sounds like something you’d like to do. You are allowed to say no, and I will not be upset with you. If you don’t want to do this, I will find something else; you will not be sent back to the kitchens, okay?”

 He nodded.

 “The King, you saw him today in the kitchen, right? Well, we’re trying to get his throne back for him from a bad man who’s trying to steal it. When we do, he’s going to need people around him he can trust. He has offered to take you on as his personal servant. You’d be responsible for organising his clothes, helping him dress, getting him food from the kitchens, that sort of thing. You’d have your own room in the palace, you’d be fed and treated well. He would train you to do the job over the next few weeks, and then you’d go with us when we go to Denerim. He’d also be teaching you to read.

 “What do you think?”

 His eyes were big. “But I’d have to stay here for the next few weeks?”

 “Yes, but you’d be the King’s servant, not the Arlessa’s. You’d sleep in a bed nearby, in case the King needed something. And the Arlessa wouldn’t dare to hit the King’s personal servant. The King is a good man; he would protect you from her. And I’ll check on you when I get back; the Arlessa would be in big trouble if I found out she hurt you.”

 “Why would the King want me? I’m nobody.”

 “That’s not true, Blake. You’ve been treated like that, but no one is unimportant. You’re a nice kid, and you’d be loyal to the King, right? You wouldn’t betray him by telling his secrets or not doing a good job, right? You’re exactly what he needs, because he can’t trust everybody. But I think he could trust you, couldn’t he?”

 He stood up, puffing out his tiny chest a little. “Yes, my Lady. I’d never tell nobody anything about the King. I swear.”

 “See? That’s the sort of man he needs around. Now, do you think you’d like that job? Or shall I figure out something else? It’s entirely up to you.”

 He looked over at me. “Will I be able to see you?”

 “Sometimes. You know that I travel with the Grey Wardens, and we’re all really busy because of the Blight, right? But when I can, whenever we are back here, or later when we’re in Denerim, I promise to come see you as often as I can.”

 “Okay.” He looked about to cry. “No one’s ever been nice to me before, other than Ma. But I know I can’t come with you and fight and stuff. If you think I can do it…”

 I nodded. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t.”

 He sighed. “When do I go?”

 “How about after supper?”

 I walked him down to Redcliffe Village, and bought him a few more things: some toys, an empty notebook, quill, and ink, and a storybook meant for children. I knew Theron would provide for him (or Eamon would, indirectly, by supporting Theron until he was back on the throne), but I wanted him to have some of his own things, too.

 We had supper back at the castle; Eamon again looked like he was sucking on a lemon when I brought Blake with me, but he didn’t say a word. After we ate, I introduced Theron to Blake. We had to stress several times that he was not to be calling Theron ‘Your Majesty’ until after the Landsmeet; it took a bit of doing. The two seemed to hit it off okay, and to my surprise, Theron had made some plans in case Blake took the job. He had arranged a small room near his, where Blake could sleep; he took the kid up there, and I helped him transfer his clothes and few meager possessions from my room to his.

 I was shocked and touched when Alistair came up, offering Blake an old, strange looking piece of rock; I looked again and realised it was a golem figurine. He told Blake it had helped him feel less lonely when he was a boy hiding from the Arlessa, and that he wanted Blake to have it. It was such a sweet gesture, I couldn’t help but squeeze Alistair’s hand thankfully. He smiled at me, sadly, and left again.

 Once I was sure Blake was settled, I gave him a hug and went to find Aedan. They had done their last minute errands and were all ready to go for the morning; I hugged my brother, almost cried, and then ran off to bed before anyone could see me being so vulnerable. I slept poorly, but refused to get up to see them off; it would only have made the separation harder. I knew that Aedan carried a spare set of armour he’d taken from the Redcliffe armoury just in case I ended up popping back to Earth and then joining him somewhere in the Wilds.

 When I finally did get up, I put on my armour, and after eating a quick-but-large breakfast, went out to the training grounds and sparred with some of Wayne’s knights. He was pleasantly surprised at my progress since I’d seen him last; I didn’t win any sparring matches, but I didn’t entirely humiliate myself, either. Tomas joined us, and I practiced against him for a while, but his skill was to the knight-trainees as theirs were to me; I didn’t have a chance.

 Bruised and sweaty, I decided to have a shower. I went up to my room, got together my things, and headed down into the basement. The sound of the water thundering through the foundation of the castle was deafening even from several rooms away; I finally came to the crack, wiggled my way through, and found myself in the little cavern.

 Only, I wasn’t alone.

 Alistair stood under the spray, head tilted back, face almost completely obscured by water; soap suds ran down his chest, past his manhood, and down his muscular legs. I stared, dumbstruck, as my libido started urgently demanding that I strip and start applying my hands, mouth, and anything else I could to that sculpted body. Suddenly embarrassed, I realised I was no better than Theron, staring like that, and I turned away. Face flaming, I stumbled out through the crack in the foundation, and leaned against the wall, breathing hard, trying to drive the images from my mind.

 Probably ten minutes later, Alistair slipped into the hallway, and gasped, startled to see me.

 “Sierra?”

 I couldn’t stop the blush from recurring, no matter how hard I tried. His expression became knowing, and almost a little bit amused. “Get a good look, then?”

 I stepped around him, refusing to discuss what I’d just seen, intending to head into the shower room, thankful suddenly that it would be a cold shower. Before I could make it through the crack, he spoke.

 “When you’re done…could we talk?” I nodded, not turning back. “I’ll meet you up on the battlements? Where we went before?”

 I nodded again, and then practically ran into the shower room, desperate to escape.

 The shower was heavenly, and cold, as desired; I felt really clean for the first time in ages. _Baths and streams just don’t compare to a high-pressure shower._ I wrung out my hair, leaving it down to dry; after redressing, I hurried to my room to drop off my stuff before finding the strange door that lead up to the balcony on the roof of the keep, what Alistair called battlements.

 Alistair sat on the stone railing, looking out across the lake; he turned as he heard me approach, smiling at me. We both sank onto the floor, backs to the keep wall, side by side as we’d been the last time I’d been up there as well.

 I picked at my thumbnail, nervously, wondering what exactly he wanted to talk about.

 Finally he cleared his throat. “I wanted to say thank you. I know you didn’t only do it for me, but no one’s ever stood up to Isolde for me before. Theron told me what you said.”

 I flushed. “No thanks necessary. I’d have done the same for anyone. No child deserves her. Thanks for giving Blake the golem, by the way. I think it might help, knowing he wasn’t the only one to grow up abused by her.”

 “I’m glad. Poor kid. At least I was properly fed. I can’t even imagine what they were thinking.” He shuddered.

 “I wouldn’t say thinking is Isolde’s strong suit.” I smirked, and he chuckled. “And I suspect that Eamon just lets her run the show, do whatever she wants, without paying any attention. It doesn’t excuse him, as he should be paying attention, but I bet he had no idea who Blake even was or that he was being abused.”

 “I can’t decide if that’s better or worse.”

 “Me either. But I’m guessing that wasn’t why you asked me to talk?”

 “No.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “I have a confession to make. I promise it was entirely accidental, but I overheard part of your conversation with Teagan yesterday. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop – you didn’t close the door all the way, and I was walking by; I heard your voice and went looking, only to find you with Teagan. I left again right away, but I heard some things, first.”

 I racked my brain, trying to think what we’d talked about. He’d offered me refuge at Rainesfere, should I wish to get away from Alistair, because… _Ah_. “About you. Us.”

 His face was scarlet, and he nodded, but kept on despite his embarrassment. “I heard you tell him that you believe I am disgusted by you.”

 I nodded, unsure where he was going with it. He refused to meet my eyes.

 “Mind telling me why you believe that?”

 “Because it’s true?” Being so close to him, especially after what I’d seen earlier, was becoming difficult. It was making me cranky and curt. Even I flinched at my harsh tone, but he didn’t.

 “Allow me to rephrase. What specifically did I do to make you believe that?” His tone was polite, curious; not irritated by my attitude, for which I should have been thankful, and wasn’t. _It seems I want a fight._

 I sighed. “You called me a monster, Alistair. You walked away. And your face…Maker, the expression on your face. I can see it still, in my mind. You made it quite clear I disgust you.”

 I looked away; I didn’t want to be discussing it. Not when now I knew I wanted him back, and yet couldn’t have him. I scrunched my eyes shut, trying to banish the hurtful image. The silence stretched, and finally I risked a glance in his direction. He sat, perfectly still, looking forlorn. His eyes were glistening suspiciously, and his lower lip quivered just slightly; it was painful to watch. Almost painful enough to overwrite the image of his disgust.

 Finally he spoke. “Sierra, I…Void take me, but I’m an idiot. Everything I do is just…” He hopped to his feet and started to pace restlessly; I flinched, startled by the abruptness of the movement. It occurred to me, as my first reflex was to assume I’d be hurt, that I had been letting trust issues run my life for far too long. Unaware of my internal monologue, Alistair continued, “I wasn’t disgusted with you. Truly. I was hurt, thinking that you might have had ulterior motives for being with me, but I wasn’t disgusted with you. I was disgusted with myself. For ever thinking I deserved something more, deserved to have someone love me just for me. In my head…of course you had ulterior motives, I should never have expected otherwise. I was disgusted with my own stupid naivety and optimism. And then you were gone, and when everyone found out what happened…”

 He sank back down beside me, looking exhausted. “They all made me see what an imbecile I was, that you had no possible ulterior motive. That you’d avoided me for months to prevent me from falling for you. I didn’t believe you, when you told me. But they said the exact same things, and it finally sunk in that I was wrong, totally wrong. I didn’t realise how badly I’d screwed up until I saw you again.

 “I never thought you were disgusting. Even those few hours where I truly believed you’d manipulated me…I was only disgusted with myself.” He reached over and touched my cheek, gently stroking it. “Never you.”

 He dropped his hand, and I immediately missed it; the warmth, the gentleness, the intimacy. I looked away, trying to pull myself together. I’d been trying to get over the mental image for a while, but now the urge was almost overwhelming. At the same time, my heart hurt; it was an echo of the pain I’d felt when he walked away, and I was too scared to let him back in again.

 I decided to tell him the entire truth. If I’d analysed it, I’d have realised that I was trying to push him away, but I didn’t think about it that hard. The impulse hit, and I just started talking.

 “You once asked me to tell you the other things I was keeping from you, from the game. Games.” He nodded, I noticed in my peripheral vision. “Do you still want to know?”

 When he nodded again, I took a deep breath. “The only things relevant to you are at the Landsmeet. So, I’m going to talk like it was me, as the Warden, with you at the Landsmeet, because that’s how I see it, in my head.” He nodded. “So, assuming you were in a relationship with me, my character…Hmm. Backing up. My Warden, the one I usually played, was a Cousland. A female Cousland named Elyssa. Anyway, we’d go into the Landsmeet, and blah blah blah with Loghain. Anora would betray us. There’d be a vote, and it would go against Loghain. But of course, he wouldn’t back down, so it would come down to single combat between him and me.

 “When I defeated him, I had the option of executing him or recruiting him to the Wardens.” I held up a hand to forestall the objection I knew was coming. “We’ll get to that. Usually I went with execution, and then I had four options. I could declare Anora to be the Queen. We’d stay Grey Wardens together and go on our merry way. Or I could coerce you into marrying her and ruling jointly, despite the fact that we were together. I could declare myself your Queen, entirely without asking you or discussing it with you first. Or I could make you King by yourself, at which point you immediately and publicly broke off our relationship because you’d need to marry a noblewoman who could give you heirs.

 “If my character was an elf, dwarf, or mage, I wouldn’t have the option to rule beside you, obviously.”

 His face was pale. “None of those…are good options. Not that I’d probably have minded the getting married part, but I could see it being an awkward thing for you. And I don’t relish leaving Anora on the throne, but I wouldn’t want to marry her, and I wouldn’t want to lose you.” Alistair looked upset. I knew it was going to get worse, and I gulped despite the tingle of warmth at his admission he wouldn’t mind marrying me.

 I nodded. “And it’s not like I wouldn’t have understood your reasoning in breaking things off, but…it still hurt. And you did it entirely tactlessly, and in front of all of our companions.”

 “Yeah, that sounds like the sort of dumb thing I would do.”   I shot him a dirty look, and he flinched. “Sorry. I am sorry. I’d like to say I’m not like that, but…”

 I looked away, unable to meet his eye for the next part. “The worse alternative was if I allowed Loghain to be conscripted. Of course, we didn’t know about dying to defeat the Archdemon at the time, but Riordan made vague comments about us needing all the Grey Wardens we could get. And if I allowed it to happen…you got upset, obviously, and if I didn’t change my mind, you left. Left the Wardens, abdicated your throne…left me. You refused to fight the Archdemon, and ended up a drunk in Kirkwall, living on charity from Teagan and trying hard to kill yourself with alcohol poisoning. You didn’t even look back as you walked away, even if we loved each other.”

 “I just assumed you were betraying me,” he stated. I nodded, sniffling. “Like I did, here, only sooner. And for an even stupider reason.”

 A tear dribbled down my cheek. I remembered the pain of that betrayal the first time I’d played it in game. It had hurt, even as I knew it was ridiculous to be so affected by a fictional character. I’d had to save the game and go cry, like I was now. But it was nothing next to knowing what it actually felt like, watching Alistair walk away from me. I turned away from Alistair, embarrassed to be seen so emotional over what he would assume was a stupid game.

 I should have known better; I felt his hand on my shoulder, his arm move around me, and before I knew what had happened I was sobbing into his shoulder as he held me close to him. He settled me in his lap, stroking my hair, not letting go, whispering apologies, and just let me cry. I soaked his shirt with my tears, and he didn’t seem to notice, just kept holding me. I pressed my face into his shoulder, and felt a drop of water hit the back of my hand. I’d have thought it was one of my tears, if my face hadn’t been buried at the time.

 I looked up, wondering if it was about to rain, only to see blue sky all around. One quick glance at his face, and I realised – it was Alistair’s tear. I’d never seen him cry before; not in game, not in real life. But there were twin tracks running down his cheeks, and more drops fell as I watched. I put my arms around his neck and he pulled me close; the two of us sat there for probably an hour, crying together without words.

 We must have fallen asleep; when I woke, it was close to sundown, based on the angle of the sun, and it was chilly on the balcony. My stomach rumbled, and I wondered if we’d missed supper entirely. I was still cradled in Alistair’s arms; he had one hand buried in my hair, the other arm draped around me, his head back, snoring softly.

 I watched his face as he slept; he didn’t look peaceful, exactly, but it was the most relaxed, least unhappy I’d seen him look since they had found me at Soldier’s Peak. Sunlight glinted off his blond hair, making it look even lighter than normal; his mouth was slack, but the deep wrinkle in his forehead was gone. And we’d both slept without nightmares, which was unusual; lately, it’d seemed, we’d both been having frequent darkspawn-laden dreams, or at least I assumed it by how often he looked tired and haggard, and from my own recurrent nightmares.

 I regretted telling Alistair about the Landsmeet. Having time to think about it, I finally realised I’d intended to use it to hurt him, to push him away. His eyes opened, while I thought about it, and he smiled softly at me before seeming to realise where we were. Once he did, he gripped me tighter, if anything, preventing me from running away, which was exactly what I’d been thinking about. But when I looked deeply into his hazel eyes, I decided I didn’t want to run away. I was sick of running, and I wasn’t angry anymore. I hadn’t been in a while, if I was honest.

Before I could change my mind, I reached behind him, carding my fingers through his soft hair, and then pulled him down to crush his lips against mine. He didn’t hesitate to respond, tightening his grasp on my hair, pulling me tightly to him, groaning as I teased his lower lip with my tongue. It was a desperate kiss, somehow conveying need and want but also sorrow and loneliness and regret. I knew, for certain, that he regretted what he’d done, what he’d assumed, and without him saying it, I knew he’d never betray me again. I knew he loved me. And I think he knew that I forgave him, and that I loved him in return.

 After the first few desperate seconds, he pulled back a little, softening the kiss, nuzzling his nose against my cheek, his hands stroking my face and my hair. Our lips moved slowly against each other, our tongues darting out to touch but not wrestle each other. For what felt like an eternity, there was nothing but his soft breath on my face, his lips against my own, and his hands stirring warmth wherever they touched.

 When we pulled away, the look of adoration on his face took my breath away. It was sort of goofy, with a lopsided smile and sparkling eyes. In that moment, it completely replaced the mental image I’d been carrying for so long, that look of disgust on his face. I felt the fear, the anger, the hurt disappear, leaving behind contentment and love. I didn’t think I’d ever forget what had happened, but I filed it into a mental category of ‘lessons learned’, and moved on. It was no longer important; only the future mattered. And my future was with him.

 His smile slowly faded, to be replaced by a look of worry; not being party to the thoughts in my head, it was clear he was unsure of where we stood. I put my finger on his lips to prevent him from speaking, and pressed my forehead to his.

 “I love you. I never stopped, really, it just hurt for a while. I was so angry. I think…no, I know I’m ready to move on now, if you are.”

 He nodded. “I swear to you, I will never doubt you again.”

 I interrupted. “Yes, you will. And so will I. That’s normal, I think. But if either of us have concerns, I want us both to agree to ask the other for clarification before we jump to conclusions. To agree never to assume the worst of each other. Can we do that?”

 “Absolutely. And Sierra…I will never leave you. Never again. I know you must be afraid, but I’m not that man anymore. I know, now, that I can’t live without you. These last weeks have been horrible, contemplating a future without you. I would bet all the coin I have that if you asked that Alistair, the one drunk in Kirkwall, the only thing he had left was regret, knowing that he should never have walked away. Now that I already know that regret, I never will. I swear it.”

 I pulled him down for another kiss, to stop him from talking, if nothing else. It was a “you had me at hello” sort of moment, and I wanted to savour it, not discuss it. With a sigh, I pulled away, however.

 “There’s one more thing you should know.”

 His expression was anxious. “Oh?”

 “I told you before…at the end of the Blight – there’s a second game. It covers the events happening in Kirkwall after the Blight.”

 “Right…?”

 “In that game…the player plays as someone else. Hawke – a Ferelden refugee whose mother was a noble in Kirkwall until she eloped with an apostate.   Hawke ends up dealing with a lot of stuff happening in Kirkwall.” He nodded understanding. I sighed. “In the game, there were possible romances, again.”

 He grimaced, but then controlled his expression, looking at me calmly. “Who?”

 “Anders.” It was almost a whisper; I didn’t want to admit it, but everything needed to be on the table if we were going to move on.

 “Of course. It would have to be.” He sighed. “Do you…do you like him? I mean…”

 “No, no. Maker, no. It’s…actually, it’s a tragic romance. And he can be a total ass. I’m not Marian Hawke, nor even Solona, apparently. I have no interest. I just…I figured you needed to know. I know things about him. Like Zev, or Leli. If it ever comes up…I don’t want that to come as a shock. No more secrets.”

 “I won’t say I’m not jealous. I am. But I trust you. If you say it’s not like that…”

 “It’s not. I promise. Not even the slightest attraction. He was never my type.”

 “Oh? And what’s your type, then?” His expression was mischievous, and I grinned.

 “Oh, you know, tall, dark, and handsome. Just what you’d expect.”

 He grabbed me, holding me to him and tickling my side relentlessly. “You minx! You’re…you’re a bad person.”

 I giggled maniacally, his devilish fingers making me squirm and gasp for air. “Uncle! Uncle. I give.” He stopped tickling, and I smiled up at his handsome face, careworn wrinkles already gone from his forehead. “You. You’re my type. Funny and gorgeous and strong and perfect. Even before I came here, it was you.”

 I wiggled around in his lap until I could straddle him, wrapping my arms around his neck, feeling his hands on my back and one hip. I kissed him, trying to convey the desire, the total commitment I felt, and he returned the favour. I moaned into his mouth, his hands clenching into fists as I pressed myself closer. I teased at his lips, trying to get his tongue engaged, but he seemed to be avoiding it.

 Finally pulling away from the kiss, I looked down at him in confusion. “I shall be most offended if that’s the best you can do, you know.”

 He raised his eyebrows at me. “’Shall’? Seriously? Now you sound like Morrigan.”

 I grinned and stuck my tongue out at him, enjoying the way his eyes lingered on my mouth. “Yeah yeah. Don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject.”

 His smile faded slightly, and he blushed. “I thought…I just thought, perhaps we shouldn’t be so…hasty. That maybe I could, I don’t know…” he trailed off, looking sheepish.

 I was both relieved and amused. “Woo me? Is that what you were thinking?” He nodded. “I don’t need to be wooed, Alistair. We’ve already done awkward and unsure. I’ve been alone and hurting for weeks, and I’m sure it’s the same for you. I don’t need to be wooed, I need to be loved. Please?”

 He studied my face, and then I felt his hands slide up my back to tangle in my hair as he dragged me to him for another kiss. He pressed his tongue against my lower lip and I opened to him; he immediately took advantage. It was exactly what I needed: the taste that was all Alistair, the feel of his hands pulling me closer, his hard body pressed up against mine. When he pulled back to start kissing down my jaw and then sucking on my ear, I gasped and trembled.

 He finally stopped, pressing his forehead against mine while we both panted. “We should continue this somewhere more private. If…I mean, if you’re sure.”

 I smiled at him, gazing into his hazel eyes. “I’m sure.” My stomach grumbled, and his followed. “I’m hungry, though. I think we missed supper.”

 “And lunch. How’s this – you head to my room, and I’ll find us some food and join you there?”

 I agreed, and then awkwardly scrambled out of his lap. He kissed me one more time, and then held the door for me to head inside from the ramparts. He headed down to the kitchen, and I wandered slowly towards his room. I ran into Blake, who was carrying a covered tray; I apologised for missing him at the meal. He assured me he was doing fine, that he was being taken care of, and that Isolde hadn’t so much as looked at him. I ruffled his hair affectionately and he scurried off towards Theron’s room with the tray.

 I slipped inside Alistair’s room without being seen, and then stopped, unsure what to do from there and suddenly nervous. His room was virtually identical to mine, so I went over to sit in the armchair in front of the fireplace. _Hearth._ I’d been working on Fereldan terminology for things, but I wasn’t always successful.

 Aedan had tried, a couple of times while we’d walked, to explain to me the terms for various pieces of armour; I’d heard cuirasses and gambesons and pauldrons and a bunch of other strange words, and not even my gaming history helped me retain them. I knew gauntlets, but the rest were a mystery. To me, pants, chest piece, gloves and boots were good enough. It was like trying to stop saying ‘Oh my God’. That one was going to get me in trouble one day. I’d added swears using the Maker or Andraste to my repertoire, but hadn’t quite managed to fully phase out the Earth ones.

 It also amazed me that straight up swears were used so rarely. I’d heard ‘shit’ a couple of times, but nobody seemed to drop the F-bomb. They used sodding instead, which never failed to make me giggle. I was looking forward to meeting Oghren, for that if nothing else. Alistair had called Morrigan a bitch in game, but I’d never heard it used other than referring to female dogs.

 I realised I was trying to distract myself from my nervousness, and laughed. It was such a stupid thing. I had no reason to be nervous; it wasn’t our first time, and I wasn’t doubting him anymore, so…I took a shaky breath and tried to relax.

 Alistair found me curled on the chair, staring intently at his drawing of myself looking miserable, holding the tiny Ironman figurine when he arrived. He had a similar tray to Blake’s, only it was clearly piled high. He put it on the table, before approaching me and taking my hand. He drew me up from the chair, taking the figurine from my hands.

 “I kept it. I don’t even know what it is, but…” He flushed, and I went up on tiptoes to kiss him gently.

 “Would you like me to tell you?” He nodded. “It’s called Iron Man. It’s a guy wearing a suit made of metal, and it can fly. He is a superhero – he uses the powers of the suit to help people. Sort of. I just thought it was sort of like the other figurines you like. Like the golem. I saw it in a shop in the hospital and couldn’t resist.”

 He kissed me softly, then rested his forehead against mine. “When I found that in my bedroll, when I walked away from you that night, I felt like such a…”

 “It doesn’t matter now.” I kissed him briefly again. “New beginning, right? No secrets.” He nodded again, blushing when I waved the drawing I’d pulled out of his pack at him. “Speaking of which, I didn’t know you could draw.”

 “I didn’t know that _you_ knew I can draw.”

 “Wynne,” I said as though that explained everything; he nodded, so maybe it did. “I think it’s about time we feed this one to the fire, don’t you think?”

 He frowned. “I keep it-“

 “To punish yourself with? I know.” He nodded, so I continued, “I don’t think either of us need reminding, do we? This is the past. We’re moving forward. Forgiven, right?”

 He studied my face for a moment, and I stood quietly, holding the drawing. Finally he nodded; together, we crouched in front of the hearth. We held each other’s hands as we placed the drawing in the fire. It caught immediately, the dry parchment lighting up with a whoosh. He smiled hesitantly at me, and I returned the smile with a brilliant one of my own.

 Standing, he encouraged me to sit on the edge of the bed; leaving me there, he grabbed the tray and put it in the middle before sitting on the far side.

 He pulled the linen off the tray to reveal fruit, cheese, some thin-sliced meats, and buns. We both tore into the food, too hungry for manners or for awkwardness.

 “So how did you learn to draw?” I asked around a mouthful of bread.

 “At the monastery, there wasn’t much to do outside of training and studying. We had lots of parchment – no one questioned us needing more – so it was easy to doodle and hide it in my study materials. I just had lots of chances to practice.”

 “Well, you’re amazing. You have quite the eye for detail. Whenever I draw, I’m lucky if I can get my stick figures to look human.”

 He flushed and cleared his throat nervously, then changed the subject.

 When nothing remained on the tray but crumbs, I looked up to meet his eyes, only to find him staring at me in return, and immediately my embarrassment returned.

 He got up, putting the tray back on the table, before digging through the drawers of his armoire. When he turned around, he held one of the tunics he wore for sleep. He fidgeted with the cloth, clearly having as much trouble as I was.

 “I was thinking…it might be nice if we could pretend the last few weeks hadn’t happened, if we could start over. I was thinking I should sort of, um, court you, the way nobles do it? But if you don’t want that, I thought…maybe we could pretend it was our first night again? And just start from there?”

 He held out the tunic limply, looking vulnerable. I smiled, walking up and cupping his cheek with one hand, taking the tunic with the other. “That sounds good.” I stroked his cheek softly. “You had less stubble, then.”

 “I had sort of planned things, then. Today was a surprise.” He smiled, and I grinned in return. “Do you want me to shave?”

 I rasped my fingers over his stubble again; it was just long enough to look rugged, not long enough to be uncomfortably prickly. “No. I like it.”

 Hi eyes darkened, and he pressed a kiss to my fingers. “Go change, before I get other ideas.”

 I slipped behind the little curtain, taking care of business and changing into his shirt. When I came out, he wore sleeping pants, like the first night in Denerim, and nothing else. It was getting dark, so he’d lit a candle; we didn’t quite need it yet, but we would before long. I knew why, and I felt the same: I wanted to see him, all of him, not make love in the dark.

 He walked over and effortlessly lifted me into his arms, moving to place me gently on the bed. I couldn’t pry my gaze away from his gorgeous, serious face as he laid down beside me. Without a word, he kissed me, and I ran my fingers into his hair to hold him close. The kiss was passionate, but far less desperate than I’d expected. I sort of thought the first time after so long would be needy and sweaty and fast, but he seemed determined to go slow, to drag it out.

 After an eternity of kissing, I felt his hand on my stomach, rubbing gently, then wandering down to my hip. I let my own hands explore his bare chest, stroking and smoothing the skin over the rippling muscles I’d been appreciating in the shower room. He shivered when I brushed a finger over his nipple, so I did it again, triggering a groan. He released my lips to start kissing down my jawline, while his hand finally cupped my breast through the tunic. Now unable to reach much of his skin, I settled for clenching my hand in his short hair while I shuddered and arched into his fingers. He teased my nipple through the thin cloth, not providing enough stimulation to get any sort of relief, but dragging a gasp from me anyway.

 I had the sudden need to sit up and rid myself of the pesky tunic, wanting his hands on my skin, _right-sodding-now_ , but he seemed to guess my intent; when I went to sit, Alistair held me down, and when I tried to push him away he simply gathered both of my wrists in one hand, holding them lazily above my head. It seemed like he wasn’t making a true effort to keep me pinned, but to my dismay, when I struggled, I couldn’t break free. _Stupid warriors and their stupid strong hands._ I cursed as he went back to licking my ear, and felt his breath as he chuckled.

 “You could change your mind tomorrow. I’m not going to rush anything tonight, my love.”

 “What if I beg?”

 “Oh, I’d very much like to hear that, Sierra. Please, feel free.” His voice was going to be my undoing, I was suddenly certain. The husky tone he took on when aroused was enough to make me want to scream.

 I resolved then and there not to beg, no matter what, but at least part of me was well aware that I’d break that resolve in a hot second if I thought it would work. When he gently nipped my neck and his hand returned to tease my nipple some more, I groaned and writhed, my hands clenching uselessly on empty air.

 Finally satisfied that I was completely frustrated, he leaned back and urged me to roll over without releasing my hands. In a haze of arousal and want, I complied, unable to express my confusion at the request but too dazed to resist. He laid alongside me, enough pressure on my back and hip that I couldn’t get up, and finally released my hands. He stroked my hair, kissing the back of my neck and my shoulder, until finally rising up to swing his leg across and straddle my bare thighs. His hands gently brushed my shoulder blades, down to my lower back, and eventually I felt them tease at the hem of the tunic I wore.

 I held my breath as his nimble fingers slipped underneath, and he caressed my thighs softly before reversing his previous path underneath the fabric. He fondled my bottom for a few moments, making me squirm, and then, as his hands rose, so did the fabric of the shirt. I felt him shift, and then gasped as his lips pressed to one of my exposed butt cheeks. He repeated the process on the other side before questing further north with his hands. He followed his questing fingers with kisses, from my lower back, to both scapulae, to the nape of my neck, at which point the fabric of the tunic was bunched, denying further progress.

 I had hoped he would allow me to finally rid myself of the pesky garment, but instead he lifted it over my head and tangled it around my arms, then began massaging my back, shoulders, and butt. I didn’t even realise how sore my muscles were, and he gently kneaded each knot with his strong fingers until I was completely relaxed. I was still aroused – mostly naked, with a semi-nude Adonis straddling my legs, I don’t think I could have been anything else – but the need was less urgent, somehow less desperate than before.

 I could feel his hardness against my thigh, but he seemed content ignoring it for the moment. Once he had me entirely limp, he began kissing his way down my spine instead. I tried to lay still, I truly did, but when his tongue swiped against the sensitive skin between my shoulders, I moaned and arched up, pressing myself against his lips harder. I had no idea, before that moment, that my back was so sensitive, though I supposed it could have just been the anticipation. I had been entirely relaxed, but now I was completely tense for a different reason.

 He slid one hand into my thick curls, tugging them out of his way to get at the back of my neck; it was accidental, I gathered from his whispered apologies, but his fingers tangled and pulled my hair as he did. Delicious sensations shot from my scalp all the way down my spine, and I shuddered in pleasure even as he caressed the area gently. I was shocked – having my hair yanked seemed like it shouldn’t have been sexy – but it turned me on even more. As I mulled it over, still mewling and pressing up against his hard chest above me, I realised it was the same thing that made this whole situation so delicious – _apparently I like it when Alistair takes control_. I didn’t know how far that would extend, and I certainly didn’t think I was some sort of submissive, but my usually mild-mannered warrior overcoming his insecurities because he wanted me so much was, well, arousing.

  _Now if I could just get him to stop teasing me and act on that desire!_

 When he finally allowed me to roll over again, I managed to rid myself of his tunic as he repositioned himself straddling my thighs. I quirked an eyebrow at him, wondering what exactly he thought we were going to accomplish with his legs keeping mine trapped and pressed together; he ignored me and leaned down to kiss me instead. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down hard against me, hoping to encourage him with my ardor; he groaned and deepened the kiss further, but didn’t seem to be making a move towards ridding himself of his pants. His erection was trapped between us, so close but so frustratingly far from where I wanted it.

 I finally started begging when he kissed down my neck, past my collar bone, and began circling around one of my nipples, nipping and licking the flesh of my breast without touching the aching tip. He had to restrain my hands again as he switched and gave the other breast the same treatment; I’d determined to get relief by myself, if necessary, but he held me down. I struggled briefly, feeling his chuckle against my skin.

 “So impatient, love! Maybe I need to give you another massage so you can relax.”

 I knew if I had to live through another naked massage I’d spontaneously combust; my string of expletives at the suggestion made him laugh harder.

 “Or not. I’m getting there, you know.”

 He lifted up so my legs weren’t trapped; I had them apart, my arms reaching for him in a split second. He ignored me and lowered his head, taking a nipple into his mouth as his hand slid down my stomach to finally get where I needed it. His touch was light, but I swear between the foreplay, him biting my nipple, and his single questing finger between my nether lips, I had a small orgasm. It was unsatisfying, though, somehow, and I needed more.

 He quirked an eyebrow at me while I shuddered, and I was too aroused even to blush. He settled onto his knees between my wide-spread thighs, and I hoped he’d finally get rid of the stupid pants; instead, he wiggled down further to lay staring at my hairless mound.

 “You’re so beautiful, Sierra.” Alistair touched his tongue gently to my thigh, now liberally covered in my juices. “Mm, and you taste good, too.”

 Embarrassed, I tried to pull away; he held my legs in place and stroked his tongue from my opening to my clit before sucking the hard pearl into his mouth and lashing it with his tongue. Bashfulness forgotten, I reached down to run my hands through his hair and pull his face closer. He kept worrying at my clit until I stiffened and shrieked, then proceeded to lap up the copious fluids pouring out of me as I came.

 The orgasm was amazing, of course, but I still wasn’t satisfied; I needed something in me, and I knew exactly what I wanted. Using my grip on his hair, I pulled until he laid on top of me. Somehow, without my noticing, he’d shucked his trousers, and it seemed his patience was finally at an end; he slid into me, groaning as he hilted inside me, and then kissed me savagely. I could taste myself on his lips, and it turned me on more. Mind you, finally filled with what I’d been missing for weeks, I wouldn’t have cared if he were covered in gore, as long as he kept kissing me, kept sliding delightfully into me.

 He thrust slowly, but it was enough; filled, clit being rubbed by his pubic bone each time he thrust, I gasped and shuddered and writhed and let him drive me over at his own pace. When we came together, it was so intense, my vision greyed out at the edges and tunneled down to one image: Alistair’s gorgeous face, flush with exertion, contorted in ecstasy and possession, laying claim in the most primal way possible.


	70. Match-Making

Chapter Seventy: Match-Making

 When I was finally able to think again, we were still joined, Alistair’s face buried in my neck, his weight on his elbows to avoid crushing me. He attempted to roll off me, but I held on, wrapping my arms and legs around him.

 “Stay. Just for a minute. Please?”

 “You can’t even breathe down there.”

 “Can so, or I wouldn’t be talking. I just…I like feeling your weight on me. It feels so safe.”

 “Yes, you’re safely being crushed to death.” His tone was half-joking, half-worried, but he stayed, holding himself above me with what seemed like superhuman effort. When I finally relaxed, he rolled onto his side, pulling me with him to cuddle up against him, legs intertwined. My hands were still shaking, my pulse pounding, and I breathed slowly, trying to calm down.

 “That was…” I couldn’t think of a single word that would suffice.

 “Intense? Profound? Impassioned?”

 “Nice. Putting that Chantry education to good use, I see.”

 He stroked my hair absent-mindedly. “Well, yes. I might as well use it for something, I suppose.”

 I giggled. “I’m sure the Grand Cleric would be so proud right now.”

 “Especially if she could see us like this.” He gestured down at our naked, entangled limbs.

 “If she saw us like this, she’d no longer be a problem; she’d have a stroke and die.”

 He laughed. “Have I told you I love you? Not just for,” he gestured again, “this, but because you’re willing to wander down these ridiculous paths in my imagination with me.” I felt him kiss my hair.

 “So I’m guessing you’ve been talking to Zev some more? Taking charge like that…”

 “Too much? I’m sorry if I-“

 I interrupted. “No. It was wonderful. I like commanding Alistair. It just seems like something Zev would have encouraged.”

 “Not exactly. I mean, he never stops talking about sex, and he’s certainly mentioned the utility of massage in love-making enough times, but…I guess I’d sort of been day dreaming about what I would do with you if I ever got the chance. Call it payback for that day, in Denerim, when you teased me for so long…”

 I giggled. “If that’s all it takes to trigger something like this, I’m going to tease you more often, I think.”

 “Minx.”

 “Yeah, well, what can I say? You’re irresistible. And funny. And gorgeous. And not bad in bed, overall.” I sat up and leaned over him, running my eyes down his chiselled physique before settling on his member, again – or still – erect.

 “Not bad?” He sounded hurt.

 I grinned and winked. “I think you could benefit from some practice.”

 ***

In the morning, I woke to find Alistair watching me. I smiled and blushed, and he leaned over to kiss me softly.

 “Good morning,” I rasped, voice thick with sleep.

 “Good morning, my love.” He kissed me again, and I snuggled into the kiss dreamily.

 “Any morning I get to do this,” I began, punctuating each word with a kiss, “is a good one.”

 He pulled me to lay with my head on his shoulder, my leg coming up to cross his naturally. “You’re going to have Duncan recruit Loghain, aren’t you?” He didn’t sound angry, just curious.

 I took a deep breath, suddenly anxious. “Yes.”

 “Why?”

 I went up on my elbow so I could look down at him. “Because someone is going to die to kill the Archdemon, and I don’t want it to be you. Or Aedan.”

 “Joining the Wardens isn’t meant to be a punishment. Loghain killed almost all of our order; why would you want to fight alongside him?” His brow furrowed, but truly in confusion, not anger.

 I sighed. “It isn’t a punishment, Alistair, but it isn’t a reward, either. The Wardens take everyone. Did Duncan ever tell you the circumstances of his conscription?” He shook his head. “He was recruited from the gallows. He killed a Grey Warden. Not on purpose, exactly – he was trying to rob the man, and got caught – but he did it, all the same. The Wardens take everyone, even those who murder Grey Wardens, if they can be useful. And Loghain could be useful. If nothing else, as one more body to put between you and the Archdemon in the pecking order.”

 “Do you know why he did it? Why he abandoned Cailan and the army?”

 “Not really. In game he just says he did what he thought was right. Honestly, I think his paranoia about Orlais drove him mad. And he believed Cailan was going to sell out to Celene. There were rumours he was going to put Anora aside and marry the Empress. Loghain was wrong, to do what he did…but I’ve come to realise he actually did believe he was doing what was best, misguided as he was.”

 Alistair pulled me down to lay against his chest again. “Okay.”

 “Okay?”

 “I can…I can live with that. Although I hold out hope he’ll be killed in the battle.”

 I laughed. “Fair enough.”

 “Do you think Cai…Theron will allow it?”

 “I think Duncan can be persuasive when he needs to be.”

 Alistair snorted, and we settled in to snuggle quietly, at least until my stomach started growling again. We’d eaten all the food Alistair had liberated from the kitchen, so reluctantly I crawled out of bed.

 Alistair ran interference while I scooted down the hallway in rumpled clothes to reach my own bedroom. I was thankful that all of us had been given rooms in the same guest wing. Eamon was the only one who I really didn’t want to see me like that; things were already antagonistic enough between us. No one else would have been upset, but still, we wanted to control how we informed everyone of our renewed relationship; being caught wearing yesterday’s clothes was not the way we planned it.

 I was tired, but thanks to my Grey Warden stamina, I’d be able to function. I was going to need one of those little potions for discomfort, though, and I didn’t have Zev around to ask, so I had to find something somewhere else. I cleaned up quickly and donned my armour, deciding I’d see if I could steal one of Wayne’s bottles, or if not, head down to the village and hope someone there sold them. And that no one saw me limping on the way there, especially Alistair. I liked what we did – especially when he made me ache – far too much to risk him getting nervous about hurting me.

 After snagging an apple, a hunk of bread, and a large slice of cheese from the main hall which was, thankfully, empty but for a handful of servants cleaning up, I found Wayne in the training yard, as usual. He grinned at me good-naturedly when I complained of being sore from sparring the day before. He gave me an interesting look, but didn’t hesitate to rummage through a cabinet and hand me a vial filled with brownish-red liquid. I tipped it back, returning the empty vial, and felt the almost-immediate relief soak in.

 “Forgive me, my Lady, but don’t you have a mage travelling with you? A healer?”

 I flushed. “Well, yes, but I hate to bother her with such minor things…”

 He rolled his eyes. “Who’re you hiding from, deary?”

 “What?”

 “Healers, in my experience, are never ‘bothered’ by being asked to heal. So you’re trying to hide your injuries, either from her or from someone she might tell. So, which is it?”

 I hesitated. “Both?”

 He laughed. “I’m guessing I should stop prying and just give you instructions for how to make your own, hmm?”

 I flushed again and nodded; he spent the next half hour teaching me how to dry and grind elfroot, and the half-hour after that teaching me how to recognise it. I almost asked him where he trained in herbalism, but managed to clamp my mouth shut before the question escaped. I thanked him profusely, giving the old scamp a kiss on the cheek; he chuckled and patted my shoulder as I left. I finally headed back inside to have a late second breakfast. Having to hide my Grey Warden appetite was getting annoying, and I ended up splitting my meals, hoping no one noticed that I kept eating twice.

 Most of my companions were in the main hall, either eating or digesting their breakfast; I sat down between Alistair and Tomas and grabbed myself a plate. I felt Alistair’s hand brush my thigh, and struggled not to blush. Tomas gave me a strange look, but I just shrugged. It felt weird, being all together but without Aiden or Zevran, and I said as much; everyone agreed, Alistair even going so far as to admit that, at times, he missed the Antivan’s jokes.

 Theron was there with Blake in tow, and the youngster enthusiastically regaled me with tales of his fabulous room – actually a small storage closet with a tiny window, cleaned out for the occasion – and of learning from Theron. He’d managed to help the king into his armour once, and was excited to try again later. I smiled indulgently, glad that it seemed the kid enjoyed his newfound profession. He’d apparently run into the Arlessa while on an errand, and I was pleased to hear that she ignored his existence entirely. _Maybe she’ll learn yet._

 Teagan arrived and invited me to visit the orphanage with him; I squeezed Alistair’s hand surreptitiously before running off to change out of my armour and drop off the supplies I’d been given by Wayne. The Bann offered me his arm as we walked down into the village, and I took it with a laugh.

 “What?”

 “Oh, nothing. It’s just…there’s not a lot of chivalry where I come from. Half of the women back there think it’s a terrible offense if a man holds the door for them – they say it infringes on their autonomy or something. So I’m just not used to the way men are in Ferelden. It constantly surprises me.”

 “Does it bother you? Men holding doors or offering their arm?”

 “No, not at all. It’s sweet. And makes me feel all girly, which is sort of weird, but nice.”

 He laughed. “Girly? You don’t usually feel girly?”

 “Before I came to Ferelden, I hadn’t been in a skirt or dress in…years, anyway. A lot of years. And I was fat. I didn’t feel girly, and certainly no one treated me that way. It just surprises me sometimes.”

 “Well, I hope you aren’t offended, because every nobleman in Thedas is going to treat you like that – even the pigs like Vaughan Kendalls. The unmarried ones will flirt with you, even if they aren’t actually interested, and-“

 “Like you?” I interrupted.

 He flushed, and then laughed. “Caught me. Though I’m embarrassed at having been found out. As I was saying, the married ones will try to win your favour to marry you to their son.”

 “I still don’t understand why.”

 “Because you’re a beautiful woman?”

 “I wasn’t fishing for compliments, you know. I mean, why me? I’m no one. Not even a Fereldan. Not a noble. None of them could marry me, even had I the desire.”

 “You wouldn’t be the first woman elevated to nobility through marriage. Not to mention that after the Landsmeet you could be elevated on your own. If you even need to be – you are, after all, a Cousland.”

 I blushed. “Oh, you heard that, did you?”

 “You call Aedan ‘brother’ all the time.”

 “Oh. Um, yeah. Woops.”

 “Why are you ashamed of that?”

 “I’m not!” I ran a hand through my hair. “I just…I don’t have proof. Aedan may accept me, but I’m not so naïve to believe that anyone else will. I don’t know the first thing about being a noble in Ferelden, except that apparently acting haughty is expected. I don’t know the politics, and I wouldn’t know where to start at running a household, never mind anything bigger than that.”

 “You might be surprised. The Landsmeet will believe what Theron tells them to, especially if Eamon and Aedan back him up. And you said you’re a business woman, right?”

 “Consultant. I get brought in by large businesses that are failing, to see if there’s anything to salvage. If I say no, they close down; if I say yes, I have a period of time and a budget to see what I can accomplish. Either way, I put myself out of a job and have to start again.”

 “And you don’t think that would enable you to see to an Arling, for example? Analyse the business, the trades and farms and workers, fix what doesn’t work, cut your losses when necessary…you’d probably be a better Bann than I am. My Seneschal has to do most of that for me. And Loghain probably doesn’t even know what products his Teyrnir trades.”

 “Lumber,” I muttered.

 “See? You’re already one step ahead.”

 “Why are you telling me this? It won’t even matter.”

 “Look, consider yourself forewarned. Assuming you manage to stay here in Ferelden, I think it’s safe to assume you’ll end up with a title of some sort. Maybe as a Cousland, or maybe on your own, maybe through who you marry. But a title is almost a guarantee, for service to the Crown if nothing else.”

 “I don’t want a title! And I’m not going to marry some Bann, or something.”

 “No, you won’t. You’ll marry a Prince.”

 I stopped and turned, gaping at Teagan. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

 “I saw you last night, going into Alistair’s room. Mine’s just down the hall, you know.”

 I blushed, cheeks crimson. “Oh?” He nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh. Damn. Uh…listen, could you not, like, tell anyone? We will soon enough, but I think Aedan should get the chance to hear about it first.”

 “I’m pretty sure I was the first to hear about it, actually.”

 If I had thought my face was burning before, now it was a flaming inferno. “Teagan!”

 “Sorry, my Lady. Couldn’t resist.”

 “I’m so embarrassed.”

 “Trust me, it’s fine. I’m thrilled for you both, actually. You’ll be good for each other.”

 I smiled gratefully. “I hope so. But he’s not a Prince.”

 “Yet.”

 I rolled my eyes, and we walked the rest of the way to the orphanage in silence.

 We spent another enjoyable morning playing with orphaned children. From the way they flocked to Teagan when we arrived, it was clear he spent time there often. It took a couple of enterprising girls all of thirty seconds to have him sitting cross-legged on a tatty blanket in the middle of the floor pretending to have a tea party, and I couldn’t help but watch and laugh. A couple of the children I’d met before had actually found parents – usually childless couples living on a farm or some such – and been adopted; a few new orphans had moved in to take their places. I spent most of the morning trying to feed a one-year-old who wasn’t fond of the nasty cereal stuff they were apparently supposed to eat; feeding the little ones took a lot of time for Bella and Kaitlyn, and I gladly freed them up for other things. Teagan gently mocked me for making train noises as I encouraged another spoonful down, not that any of them knew what a train was and why it would help.

 Bella and Kaitlyn were wonderful with the children, and I was entirely pleased with my suggestion that they run the orphanage. The place was clean, cheerful, noisy, and full of youngsters who clearly felt no fear, only love. But aside from watching the children, I noticed Kaitlyn spent a fair bit of time watching Teagan when she thought no one was looking; Teagan, for his part, seemed to be pretending he didn’t know, but from the slight flush, I could tell he was aware. Once I caught her looking, and she saw me noticing; I winked, and she flushed and bolted into the kitchen.

 Recalling a line from the epilogue in game, I followed her, picking up a dishtowel and drying dishes as she washed.

 “So, Teagan’s certainly a handsome man, isn’t he?”

 She flushed a more crimson colour than before. “Is he? I suppose…”

 “Oh, you hadn’t noticed? Hmm. Likely story.” I grinned.

 “I know my place, my L-“ I gave her a dirty look, and she interrupted herself. “Sierra. He’s nobility. I’m a commoner.”

 “You might be surprised, Kaitlyn. Just today he was telling me that I wouldn’t be the first woman to be elevated to nobility through marriage if I played my cards right…”

 The jealous look on her face was clear confirmation of her feelings, if nothing else was. “Oh I’m sure, you’d have a chance.”

 “He didn’t mean marriage to him, Kaitlyn. I’m spoken for, actually.”

 “I…oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” She trailed off, and I grinned at the relieved expression. “I’m just a girl! He’d never look at me like that.”

 “I think he might, actually. You’re beautiful, and resourceful, and doing a wonderful job here. He clearly loves coming here. I think you have a very good chance, actually.”

 “He’s so wonderful with the children…I can just imagine him as a father. There aren’t many men I could say that about.”

 “You can say that again. Anyway, just don’t sell yourself short, okay? Give him a chance; he might surprise you.”

 “If you say so.”

 I grinned, and she gave me a small smile in return. We went back into the playroom, to find Teagan crawling around with half-a-dozen kids climbing on or dangling from him, as he roared and pretended to be a monster. Kaitlyn and I burst out laughing as he finally collapsed, having been ‘vanquished’ by a bunch of toddlers.

 Finally disentangling himself, he and I bid the children goodbye, much to their dismay. Bella smiled as she settled the group down for a story; Kaitlyn walked us to the door.

 Teagan turned to the young woman. “Is there anything you need, Kaitlyn? I’ve taken responsibility for this orphanage. I want you to tell me if you have needs unmet.”

 There was a double-entendre there somewhere, I was sure of it; Teagan’s mouth twitched as I covered a laugh with a fake cough.

 “You’ve been more than generous, my Lord. We’re fine.”

 Teagan slightly winced at the title. “Teagan, please. And please, just send someone up to the castle if you need anything, all right?”

 She smiled shyly and ducked her head; Teagan and I took our leave. We got partway up the hill before I had to either say something or explode.

 “So…Kaitlyn seems nice.”

 “She is.” Teagan glanced at me, and flushed slightly before looking away again.

 “And I noticed she’s not, er, married.” He grunted, and I continued, “Shame, that. I imagine someone will catch on soon enough and scoop her up.” He clenched his jaw and refused to answer. I almost giggled. “She sure is pretty.”

 “Is she?”

 I chuckled. “Um. Yeah, I’m almost jealous. She could have any man she wanted, don’t you think?”

 He scowled and continued to avoid making eye contact. “I suppose so.”

 “And now I know why you spend so much time at the orphanage.”

 “No! I mean, I do, but that’s not…” He glared at me. “I go to see the children. That’s all.”

 “Uh huh. And when some other, less clueless man waltzes in there and steals her out from under your nose, you won’t be at all bothered by that?”

 He sighed. “Look, you’ve made your point. I shall be very disappointed when she finds a beau and gets married. But there’s nothing I can do about that.”

 “Oh, so all your spouting off about lacking a noble title not being an impediment was just smoke, then?”

 “What? No! This has nothing to do with her lack of a title.”

 “Then what?”

 “I’m old enough to be her father! She’s young and beautiful, and deserves someone who can give her everything.” His face was red, whether from anger or disappointment, I couldn’t tell. I thought it might be time to stop teasing and offer some support.

 “Teagan, who in this little village can offer her half of what you can? It’s commendable that you’re thinking of her happiness, but let’s just lay it out a little. With some other lout from the village, she could, what? Continue to live in her little house, now even more crowded, and probably have to continue working just to help pay the bills. She would have to raise her own children among the orphans, and could probably barely afford to feed them. She might be able to marry someone her own age, but what would a man that young have to offer her? If he’s lucky, he’s got a job at the castle, being treated like dirt by Isolde. And all their children would have to inherit is an orphanage overrun with unwanted kids.

 “I can’t believe I even have to point this out. Let’s compare what she would have with you, instead. You’re a wealthy guy, if I’m not mistaken, and the Bann of Rainesfere. You’re the current heir to the Arling of Redcliffe. Your children would inherit at minimum a title, and one of them could be Bann; or even Arl, if Eamon doesn’t have more children. Your wife would only have to work if she wanted to, and could spend her time – not to mention significant coin – on whatever charities she chose. She would live in a castle or a manor, have servants and wet nurses, and be able to raise her children however she wanted.

 “And yes, you’re a bit older than her, but it’s not like you’re some senile old man. You’re good-looking, well-meaning, and kind. You’re experienced – at least, I assume you are – and that holds a certain appeal for a young uncertain woman. And I don’t see you philandering, or abusing her, or ignoring her opinions or her needs, which is more than she could probably say about most of the men she’s ever met. You’re one of the good ones, Teagan, even if your sister-in-law is a hag. She’d be lucky to be with you, and she knows it.”

 His face, which had reddened further as I spoke, suddenly paled. “You spoke to her about this?”

 We were at the castle gates, strolling past the training yard. I dropped my voice. “Well, not exactly. I just mentioned that you were handsome. She agreed.” I almost felt bad betraying her confidence. Almost. “And she told me, in detail, how good you are with children. That’s a very attractive trait, you know.”

 He sputtered. “I don’t…I can’t…I’m going to my room now, for a…rest. Yes, that’s what I need. Good day, my Lady.” He ran away from me so fast, he almost left me spinning. I laughed as I watched him jog inside and disappear. I hoped fervently that I’d done some good, that I’d helped the two ridiculous love-birds together, not pushed them further apart.

 I went inside, planning to look for Alistair; I found Tomas, instead, in the library pouring over some maps. When he saw me, he called me in.

 “Whatcha got there?”

 “Maps. Obviously. Southern Ferelden, and the Korcari Wilds, to be specific.”

 “Why?”

 “I’m trying to figure out a place where we can lay in wait for the darkspawn when they march on Denerim. Given the choice, I’d rather keep the battle away from the city.”

 “Good idea. Though…Tomas? How do you bring down a dragon?”

 “What do you mean?”

 “Well, they’re sort of large. And mobile. Wings and such. How do you get the thing on the ground? All it would have to do is fly high enough to avoid being hit by arrows, and we’d have no chance to even fight it.”

 “Ah. Um, I have a few ideas about that, but none of the Warden lore that I’m aware of solves that particular problem. Mages would be helpful, obviously, as well as archers. We need to damage the wings. How was it brought down in your performance?”

 “Oh, did I not tell you that story? Riordan committed suicide by dragon. He leaped off the tallest tower onto the back of the Archdemon as it flew by, tried to kill it, failed, but instead succeeded at ruining one wing before falling to his death. The dragon landed on the roof of Fort Drakon, unable to fly, and we killed it there.”

 “That’s not going to work very well in the open plain somewhere.”

 “Nope. Unless you plan to fling someone at the Archdemon with a catapult. That might work. If you could get the aim just right, anyway.” I drifted off, the hilarious mental image of Oghren flying through the air with his axe out proving too distracting for me to continue.

 Tomas sighed. “You really are the perfect match for Alistair, aren’t you?”

 I gaped. “Damn it, does everyone know?”

 “Well, I imagine Aedan, Zevran, and the recruits don’t…”

 “Seriously?”

 “If you were trying to hide it, you should probably have kept the enormous smiles off your faces when sitting beside each other at breakfast.” He chuckled at my glare. “I figured it would happen. We all saw you softening towards him, even if you didn’t.”

 “It’s those damned puppy-dog eyes.” I sighed. “They get me every time.”

 “Are you sure it’s what you want?”

 I smiled. “Yes. Absolutely. Are you okay with it?”

 His grin was wide. “Because you’d stop if I said no?”

 “Uh, well…”

 “I’m happy for you, Sierra. The two of you…are like the children I never had. I want you both to be happy.”

 “You aren’t worried we will fail to do our duty because we’re trying to protect each other?”

 “You’re supposed to protect each other. It’s your duty just as much as ending the Blight. And you’re both smart enough to realise that if you save the other instead of killing the Archdemon, neither of you will survive. You’ll both do your duty. I have no concerns about that. Besides, it won’t come down to either of you. Riordan or I will take the killing blow.”

 “What about…the other way?”

 “Morrigan’s ritual?”

 I nodded.

 “Not unless both Riordan and I are dead before the battle. Neither of us wants to go on our Calling, given any other choice. I started having the dreams before the Blight; Riordan and I joined at the same time. He’s in the same position. Avernus’ potion might have given me a little bit of time, but not much. He wasn’t sure it would work at all, given how long I’ve been a Warden. It isn’t worth the risk of Urthemial reborn, since both of us will die shortly after anyway.”

 I nodded reluctantly; it was what I expected. And I couldn’t blame him – going into the Deep Roads to die didn’t appeal to me either. I just wondered if I could keep Morrigan from abandoning ship the way she had done in the performance.

 “Will you recruit Loghain?”

 He stared at me, shocked. “I…had not thought about that. I suppose it might make some sense.”

 “I don’t see Theron handling that well.”

 He appeared to think about it for a moment. “You’re right, of course, but I think I can perhaps talk him around, especially if I give him some time to prepare. He’s changed, since Ostagar; I think he might, finally, listen to sense.”

 “And not choose to fight in the vanguard?”

 “Something like that. Your little diatribe would have helped in that regard, I’m sure.”

 I blushed. “I’d almost forgotten about that. Why does it feel like I spend half of my time, when I’m around him at least, lecturing him about being an idiot?”

 “We all do. I just wish I’d had more success with it before Ostagar.” He sighed. “I know Loghain’s making use of the fact that I didn’t refuse to allow Cailan to fight with us; what the Teyrn doesn’t know is I spent hours arguing with him over it, trying to convince him to stay away. Cailan finally had to order me to accept it before that planning session with Loghain.”

 “But you think he’ll be more reasonable now?”

 “Well, for starters, I told him that only a Warden can end a Blight.”

 “Ah, yeah that would help. And then, let me guess, you had to refuse to recruit him into the Grey Wardens.”

 “Sadly. He’s still sulking over that one, I’m afraid.”

 I sighed. “Men are idiots. No offense.”

 Tomas just laughed.


	71. Forgiveness

Chapter Seventy-One: Forgiveness

 I left Tomas pouring over his maps, and continued on my way to find Alistair; after clearing the main hall, and stealing some bread, cheese, and another apple from a passing servant, I headed up towards his room. As I walked down the hall, munching on my snack, I heard talking; I paused just outside of Theron’s open door. He was talking quietly with Blake, and I eavesdropped for a few minutes.

 “This is the letter A. Each letter makes a sound; this one can either sound like ‘ahh’ or like ‘ay’. For example, apple, or make.”

“Like eight?” Blake asked, and I grinned. I’d asked the same question once, in school, as I recalled.

 “Um, not exactly. It sounds the same, but sometimes other letters in a combination can make the same sounds. Eight is spelled with the letters E and I. When you put them together, they sound like ‘ay’. It’s a bit confusing, isn’t it?”

 I could practically hear Blake scratching his head. “Okay, if you say so,” he replied dubiously.

 “Let’s try the next one. Letter B. It’s less confusing.”

“How do you know what order they go in?”

 “You just have to remember. You’ll get it eventually.”

 I turned the corner, finally having something to add to the discussion. “There’s a song, actually. It makes it easier to remember.” I smiled softly at Theron, and he flushed slightly. Blake bounced off his chair to hug me.

I spent ten minutes teaching the alphabet song to both Theron and Blake; it was sort of cute watching a full grown man fumble his way through something every first-grader could do back on Earth. I took my leave, not wanting to disrupt their lessons, no matter how adorable it was to watch Theron try to teach; I was convinced, though, that I’d done the right thing for Blake. And I thought it just might be good for Theron, too.

 I finally reached Alistair’s room; I listened at the door, and heard soft snoring. Evidently Alistair had decided to have a nap. I crept into the room, trying to be silent, glad he’d left the door unlocked. He was fast asleep, lying spread-eagled on his belly, wearing just a pair of trousers. Sunlight poured through the open window, and his sandy-blond hair looked almost golden; his face was angelic, matching the golden halo nicely. And on his bedside table, sparkling in the light, was a miniature Ironman figurine.

 Not wanting to wake him – Maker knew we both needed sleep, after our…exertions, the night before – I tiptoed to the edge of the bed and crawled onto it. I carefully climbed up to lay beside him so I could see his face; he stirred, briefly, wrapped one arm around my waist to pull me closer, and dropped back to sleep without a word. I watched him for a while, admiring his regal features and bronze skin, allowing my fingers to trail softly over the arm that held me; in that moment, I felt content, and even confident, in a way I’d never felt before. We had come through the fire, he and I, and we had made it. Never again would we take each other for granted. I fell asleep with a smile on my face, cuddled into his embrace.

 I woke a while later to find him staring down at me, a warm smile on his face.

 “Maker, how I’ve missed this.” He leaned in for a kiss.

 I thought about making a smart comment, but couldn’t. I returned his smile dreamily. “Me too.”

 “I sleep so much better with you here. Fewer nightmares. It’s odd.”

 “Works for me. We’ll just stick together, and we’ll be fine.”

 “I can handle that.” He grinned. “So…when do you want to admit to everyone that we’re…”

 “Back together? No need. Maybe Eamon doesn’t know, though I wouldn’t guarantee that; everyone else does. Teagan saw us last night, and apparently we weren’t very good at keeping straight faces at breakfast this morning.”

 “Andraste’s ass, I’m sorry Sierra. I know you wanted to wait.”

 It hadn’t occurred to me how he might take such a sentiment until he said it out loud. “Only because I thought I should warn Aedan before he tries to kill you for taking liberties. Not because I don’t want people to know. I’m not ashamed of us.”

 He blushed. “I didn’t…right, um. Thanks.”

 I kissed him again, but before it could turn into anything more serious, my stomach rumbled, and I winced. “I mostly missed lunch, and I think it’s almost supper, based on the light. I think we’d better get up before I’m forced to gnaw my own arm off.”

 He laughed. “Your desire is my command, my dear.” I punched him lightly, and he cried out dramatically. “Hey! I bruise easily, you know.”

 “Then consider it me marking my territory. Now get moving, buster. My stomach waits for no man.”

 I climbed out of the bed, smoothing my dress and running fingers through perpetually tangled hair; he shrugged into a tunic – _it’s a shame to cover all those muscles!_ – and declared himself ready. I took a deep breath, reached out for his hand, and headed into the hall.

 We walked down to the main hall hand-in-hand, me skipping along to keep pace with his long legs. I didn’t mind, though – I really was hungry. Eamon’s eyes widened when we entered the hall together, but he kept his thoughts to himself; Isolde wasn’t so clever. She shot me an exceptionally dirty look before turning towards her husband and saying something. I couldn’t catch it all, but I heard the word ‘bastard’ in scathing tones. I tensed up, contemplating my escape route if I flew across the table and scratched her eyes out; Alistair, seeming to sense my aggravation, put his arms around my waist and held me back.

 “It isn’t worth it, Sierra. You’ll never change her mind, and only cause problems for Theron, and for the Grey Wardens. Let it go.”

 I slumped, leaning back against him. “I hate that bitch. I swear, one day…”

 He escorted me to the far end of the table, as far from Eamon and his wife as possible. Leli grinned at me, waggling her eyebrows as I sat beside her and Alistair squeezed between us. I blushed, and heard her musical giggle peal out. Morrigan rolled her eyes, and I shrugged slightly; I could tell her scowl wasn’t really real, though. Theron’s smug smirk made me want to smack him, but I kept it to myself. No one else mentioned anything, and soon we were all too busy eating to think much of it.

 After supper we retired to the library and spent the evening gabbing; Teagan joined us, and was a welcome addition, though he wouldn’t quite look me in the eye. Eamon did not, to my relief. I wasn’t sure if he just wasn’t into social interaction, was still recovering from Jowan’s poison, or was avoiding us for fear of my (or Theron’s) reaction.

 Alistair and I confirmed we were back together, not that anyone was surprised. Leliana squealed with delight before admitting that she didn’t think I’d ever manage to learn to forgive him.

 I blushed and shrugged. “Everyone has to grow up eventually, I guess.” I snuggled closer to Alistair and hid my face; he kissed the top of my head, and I decided I just didn’t care what anyone else thought.

 After a few hours of chatting, everyone slowly headed to bed. Theron stayed back, and motioned to me to stay as well. Alistair, as expected, stayed with me, unwilling to allow me to be alone with his half-brother. _I’m going to have to explain that I forgave him, too…_

 We sat, awkwardly, Alistair and I sharing a couch, Theron sitting in a nearby chair. No one made eye contact, and we just sat in awkward silence for a few minutes.

 Finally Theron cleared his throat. “Thank you both for staying. Alistair, I’ve wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t really know where to start. I…” He trailed off.

 Alistair, startled to be addressed directly, groped for something to say. “Your Majesty, you don’t have to say anything.”

 Theron cut him off before he could continue. “Yes, I do. And please, you’re my brother. I think we can dispense with the titles, don’t you?” Alistair nodded, reluctantly, and Theron continued. “I just want to say that I had no idea you existed. I suppose I should have known it was possible, but our father never told me. He probably knew what my reaction to it would have been; I’d have pestered him mercilessly to acknowledge you and bring you to the palace. I assume he had reasons for not doing so, but I doubt I’d agree with any of them.

 “And even if he couldn’t acknowledge you, to leave you with Eamon…I’m sorry, Alistair. Our father owed you a thousand apologies; I just wish I’d known about you sooner. I might have been able to get you away from the Chantry sooner, or something. I was never angry to discover I have a brother, just angry I’d never been told.”

 Alistair’s expression was a priceless mix of shock and discomfort, with a little bit of pain and bitterness peeking through. I wrapped my arm around his waist in a silent show of support. Theron just waited patiently while he collected his thoughts.

 “I’ve been told my mother forced Maric to promise never to acknowledge me, though I didn’t know that until recently. I’d never even spoken to the man. I don’t expect anything from you, and believe me, I have no designs on your throne. I can’t even tell you how glad I am personally that you survived Ostagar. I’d be a terrible King.”

 “I have it on good authority,” Theron shot me a small smile, “that you’d actually make an excellent King, whether you believe it or not. Probably better than I’ve been, if I’m honest. I am also glad to have survived, so I can try to atone for my mistakes in the past. These last few months…well, like Sierra said, I guess everyone has to grow up sometime.

 “My point is, I’m not threatened by you. Honestly, if you wanted the job and I thought you could do it, I’d hand over the crown in a minute. But seeing all the things I’ve done wrong so clearly since Ostagar…I want the chance to fix it. To be the man I would like to think I’m capable of being. And I was sort of hoping I might have a brother by my side for some of it.”

 Alistair looked dumbfounded, and even I was in shock. _Who is this man, and what did he do to Cailan?_

 “Your Ma…Cai…Theron,” Alistair finally managed to spit out, “I am…”

 “You’re a Grey Warden, and I understand that. I’m not asking you to give it up. And you’re probably not really thrilled with me, either. All I’m asking is that you give us the chance to get to know one another, the way we should have since childhood, and that maybe, if you find me worthy, we could be…friends. Support each other, or something. I could use someone I can trust, and I think I can trust you. And you’ve clearly won the heart of this lady, which speaks volumes about you as well. Will you at least think about it?”

 Alistair agreed, and Theron slipped out of the library to leave us alone.

 “Well that was…”

 “Not what you expected?” Alistair shot me a look, and I grinned. “What? I didn’t exactly have time to tell you that he and I have spoken a bit in the last few days. He’s not at all what I thought he was.”

 His expression was clouded. “And just what is he, then?”

 It occurred to me, then, what the problem was. “Okay, now that’s sort of cute.”

 “What is?”

 “You’re jealous.”

 “The King of Ferelden wants you as his mistress; Maker, yes, I’m jealous.”

 I slid closer to him on the couch, taking his hand. “He can want whatever he likes. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m yours.” I turned and cupped his cheek, pulling him to face me. “Only yours.”

 He kissed me softly, then leaned back with a sigh. “I know.”

 “Besides, he’s not actually the drooling lecher I thought he was.”

 “The maids gossiping around the castle would indicate otherwise,” he said, drily.

 “Oh, I don’t doubt he sleeps with anyone in a dress who says yes…but he wouldn’t pressure someone who said no. I just don’t think anyone ever had said no before. He had no practice at accepting it gracefully. He apologised sincerely for his behaviour. I believe him. And he defended me, against Isolde and Eamon both. I’d probably be in the dungeon right now if he hadn’t interceded on my behalf.”

 “The dungeon?” He looked at me, aghast.

 “Yeah, well, I did threaten that stupid Orlesian cow. In her own home. He sort of had the right to lock me up, in truth.”

 “He threatened to throw you in the dungeon for standing up for Blake? Really?”

 “Uh, yeah. Well, not so much threatened as much as informed me he would be within his rights to do so. Theron got in his face and told him that if he did anything to me, or if he ever heard about servants or children being mistreated again, he’d take away the Arling and deport Isolde.”

 Alistair rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I can’t even…I don’t…”

 I waited patiently, reaching up to stop his hands.

 He finally seemed to know what he was trying to say. “I always figured Cailan would be an entitled ass, and never thought he could be anything else; at the same time, I always thought there was good in Eamon, somewhere. I wanted to believe it. That so much of what happened was her fault, not his. That he cared about me, about his people. You didn’t agree, but I just thought you were defending me. Not that he could truly be so…”

 “Heartless? Yeah. Sorry, honey. Eamon only cares about what’s best for Eamon. Maybe a little for Connor and Isolde, though honestly it seems like they’re just accessories to him. Tools to get what he wants.”

 “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

 “How’s this? You give Theron a chance – just one, single chance – to see if you can be family for each other, and I’ll forgive you.”

 He looked up with a smile. “It means that much to you?”

 “No, I think it could mean that much to you, though. Having a brother…well, let me just say from experience, it’s worth a shot.”

 “I suppose you would know,” he nodded, agreeably. “I’ll try.”

 “So…bedtime?” I requested with a shy smile.

 “Definitely.”

 “My room this time?”

 “Deal.” My stomach interrupted with a growl, and he grinned. “I’ll raid the larder and meet you there.”

 Our lovemaking that night was tender and gentle, and I’d never felt so cherished. I fell asleep secure in his arms, my head pillowed on his shoulder, and slept like a baby.

 In the morning I spent some time sparring with Tomas and Alistair; I still had trouble figuring out what to do with someone holding a shield. I had gotten enough better, though, that both men had equipped themselves with wooden practice swords, which they seemed to enjoy smacking me with just a bit too much. Alistair never hit hard, of course; not enough to bruise, barely enough to feel, but humiliating never-the-less; Tomas, on the other hand, had no trouble walloping me one if I did something stupid, like drop my guard or telegraph my moves. Not the most fun I’d ever had, but it was good motivation to improve, I had to admit.

 We’d been at it, on and off, for about an hour, when Alistair finally challenged Tomas to spar. I grinned and sat on a nearby crate to watch as the two men squared off. I noticed Sten walk up beside me, and gave him a nod before returning my attention to the fight. They circled and feinted, shields crashing against each other, swords ringing, in a furious battle for dominance. Alistair was clearly the stronger, and as the younger man, tired less easily; Tomas made up for that with agility and experience, such that they seemed evenly matched.

 The fight might have gone on forever, except that after a particularly vicious strike by Alistair, which Tomas blocked with his shield, Alistair’s wooden sword snapped, splinters flying everywhere. Shocked, he hesitated; Tomas did not. With a single step forward and a low swing of his sword, Tomas knocked Alistair back onto his ass. Before the templar could get his shield up, Tomas’ practice blade was at his throat.

 Alistair yielded; Tomas dropped his sword and offered Alistair a hand up, both men laughing and talking animatedly. Sten grunted, and I looked up at the enormous Kossith warrior.

 “So, Kadan. I find myself displeased with you.”

 I blinked. _Sten has a bone to pick with me? Whatever did I do?_ “Uh, may I ask why?”

 Alistair and Tomas joined us as he responded. “You have sparred with the assassin, your brother, the Warden-Commander, even the templar…but you have never asked me to teach you. You have never invited me to spar with you.”

 “Um, well…” What could I say? _The truth, I suppose._ “That’s because I’m terrified you’ll chop my head off with that big-ass sword of yours?”

 “You question my control with a blade?”

I couldn’t read his stoic expression, but the leading question made me certain he was angry. I swallowed thickly. “No, not that…more that I question that there’s even the slightest chance I could hold my own against you. Or offer even the most minimal of challenges.”

 “So you are afraid to face me?”

I blinked again. _Who wouldn’t be?_ “You’re seven feet tall, you carry a sword I can’t even lift, and you were raised to be a warrior from birth. Hell yes, I’m afraid of you.”

 His eyes flashed. “I had not expected you to be a coward.”

 I choked; Tomas turned away to try and hide a smile, and Alistair grinned at me. _Bastard!_ “I…oh for the love of God. Sten, how would you like to spar with me? Perhaps help me learn more about fighting?”

The giant nodded. “Indeed. Let us begin.”

 I’d never actually hoped for Alistair to get overprotective as much as I did at that exact moment, but as I picked up my daggers and reluctantly stood, he gave me a thumbs up and an encouraging smile. I wanted him to save me, but he didn’t. He took my place on the crate, watching eagerly; I almost expected him to ask for popcorn.

 To my surprise – and relief – Sten started me with a brief tutorial on two-handed weapon fighting. Not from the point of view of the wielder, which was good because I wasn’t joking when I said I couldn’t lift his sword, but from their opponent’s perspective. It came as no surprise that they had to move a little slower than someone with a dagger or a short sword, but he showed me how to predict the swings based on shoulder position and footwork. He held the sword out from him at an angle while I practiced ducking under to get behind him – the muscle strength required to just hold that position must have been incredible.

 And then he had me cross my daggers and practice blocking swings. He started hitting lightly, teaching me to angle my blades to deflect rather than fully block, which was good because even with the changes he suggested, my arms were sore and my hands slightly numb after no more than a half-dozen swings. No matter how successfully I deflected, some of that force was applied to my blades, and through them to my wrists, elbows, and shoulders. I decided it was a good thing that if we ever actually really fought he’d be able to kill me in one or two swings. _Trying to limit the pain before my eventual demise, of course._

 When we finally began actually sparring, I was more worried about dropping my daggers with my insensate fingers than I was about him hurting me; he’d demonstrated, time and again, his ability to pull his strikes and avoid actually injuring me. So he went easy on me, initially, moving slowly and allowing me the chance to dodge and duck, to try to get behind him. And then, I saw an opening, and I took it; I grasped his wrist, bent and twisted my hips, and pulled. The surprised giant stumbled forward, but as I expected him to sail over my back, his height and weight brought me up short, and all I managed to do was make him trip forward and land on me.

 Bent over as I was, my knee gave out, and I fell; I heard something snap, but it was a moment before I felt the pain and screamed. Sten rolled with the fall, managing to avoid putting all of his weight on me, and was on his knees beside me before I even fully settled onto the dirt of the training ring. Alistair was beside me in a flash, propping up my shoulders to rest against his chest; he pulled my face up to look at him as I felt Sten try to realign my deformed limb. I tried not to look, but out of my peripheral vision, I saw that my right knee was bent at a quite unnatural angle, and there was blood trickling out of the leg of my leathers.

 The whole time, it was like I’d gone deaf. The last sound I’d heard was the snap of bone breaking, and after that there was just silence. I could see Alistair’s lips moving, so clearly he was talking to me, but I could make out nothing of what he was saying. When Sten moved my leg, the pain made my head spin and my vision tunnel, and it felt like I screamed again, but I heard nothing.

 And then we were surrounded by people, and someone was pressing something against my lips, pouring something into my mouth, and then a second time and a third. Even as I choked and sputtered as the fluid finally went down, I started noticing a strange buzzing that preceded the return of my normal hearing. It was like something from a movie, where they mute the sound to emphasize the gravity of a situation. And as disconcerting as the silence was, the sound wasn’t exactly welcome when it turned back on. Alistair was mumbling, half-prayer, half-platitude, his eyes searching the crowd who’d gathered around me wildly. People were talking, though I couldn’t make out many of the words, and the noise was irritating.

 And above all that, was the sound of a woman screaming. _Probably one of the castle’s servants, who’s never seen a major injury before._ I opened my mouth to ask someone to take the annoying woman away, only to realise that my mouth was already open. I closed it, and the screaming cut off. _Oh, it was me. Huh._ The pain started to dull a bit, and as my wits returned to me, it occurred to me that the liquid someone had poured down my throat was a healing potion. Not that I thought it would fix what was obviously a badly broken leg, but it did help with the pain.

 Finally the crowd parted, and Tomas ushered Wynne through the gap. I smiled, relieved, and was happy to notice Alistair looking relieved too.

 “Wynne,” I drawled, words slurring. “I think…I mighta broke my leg.”

 I felt warm and fuzzy, and my vision started to blur. I had trouble keeping my eyes open, and my head spinning felt almost nice. I heard Wynne say something about healing, and Lyrium, but I was too sleepy to really pay any attention. Alistair turned my face back to his, forcing me to make eye contact.

 “Sierra, you must stay awake. Do you hear me? Just look at me, sweetheart. I’m right here. That’s it, just keep your eyes open. I promise you can sleep in a few minutes, but not yet, okay? Stay with me.”

 I was briefly distracted by a lance of pain shooting up from my leg, but then the warm sensation of healing spread through me, and I relaxed again in Alistair’s grip. “You have pretty eyes,” I mumbled.

 I heard someone snort a laugh, but Alistair just flushed slightly and smiled at me. “That’s right. Just keep looking into my pretty eyes. You can do this.”

 I noticed again when the aura of healing increased, but couldn’t muster the energy to turn and look at what was happening. I stared at Alistair’s face – not only his eyes, but his pouty lips, his aquiline nose, his bronze and pink skin. _He’s so beautiful._

“I think,” I swallowed and tried again, “that I’m going to throw up.”

 I managed to turn my head slightly, and vomited noisily onto the dirt of the training ground. Alistair held my hair back as I retched, tears pricking my eyes. Someone handed me a water skin, and I took a drink before rinsing out my mouth and spitting. I started feeling a bit better, less woozy, after vomiting, until I slumped again in Alistair’s arms. Someone took that opportunity to pull my boot off and prick my skin with something sharp. I cursed and tried to pull away, which drove a spike of pain through my knee, and I finally, blissfully, blacked out.


	72. Protective Instincts

Chapter Seventy-Two: Protective Instincts

 When I woke, I was in a nightgown, in a bed, but it wasn’t my bed. I lifted my head to look around; Alistair was dozing in a chair on one side of the bed, Teagan, Eamon, and Theron were seated on chairs facing each other on the other side, and Aedan, Zev, Tomas, and Wynne huddled together by a large hearth. _Aedan? When did he get back? How long have I been out?_ My head and stomach seemed to have sorted themselves out, but my leg ached abominably.

 As my head cleared, I realised I was actually in Eamon’s room. In his bed. _Isolde’s bed._ Maybe it was the only room big enough for everyone to fit, or something, but it was seriously creepy. He’d been comatose in this exact spot a few weeks prior. I tried to stifle the disgusted grunt that burst forth… unsuccessfully. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to wake Alistair; he leapt off the chair, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, calling out to Wynne as he moved.

 Alistair took my hand just as everyone arrived around the large bed, and I was suddenly the centre of attention for eight people. I knew I probably had been for quite some time, but it didn’t count – I’d been unconscious. Now it was embarrassing, and a bit intimidating.

 “Um, hi.”

 Alistair kissed the back of my hand, and Aedan frowned. When I didn’t pull away, he huffed and seemed to decide to ignore it, for now.

 “Sierra…you scared the pants off everyone today. What were you thinking?” Aedan scowled at me.

 I laughed. “It’s good to see you too, brother. I feel terrible, thanks, why do you ask?”

 He flushed, irritation flashing across his features. I sighed. “I _thought_ I was sparring with Sten. I _thought_ I should try to learn how to fight a little better before I end up stuck in the Deep Roads without the ability to defend myself. I failed to take into account that Sten probably doubles my weight. No one mentioned that those throws don’t work on someone so much larger than yourself…”

 His jaw dropped. “You tried to throw _Sten_?” His voice went higher in pitch the closer to the end of the sentence, until he squeaked the last word.

 “What, no one told you? I tried to throw him. He left me with an opening. I took it. It didn’t end well.”

 “No one seemed exactly sure what had happened.” He glared impartially around the room. “Why would you try to throw Sten?”

 “I got cocky? I wanted to prove to him that I wasn’t totally useless. It was stupid.” I shrugged my shoulders, which wiggled the bed, jarring my leg and dragging a hiss of pain out of my mouth. Alistair squeezed my hand helplessly, as Wynne pushed Aedan and Tomas out of the way and ran one of her diagnostics over my supine form.

 “I need some space, and Anders. And perhaps Dariel and Morrigan. And some Lyrium.” She gave everyone except Alistair a look, and they all got the hint, scattering to find the other people she’d asked for and some Lyrium. A couple of minutes later, I saw Leli at the door, escorting Anders – she waved, and I smiled – and shortly after that, Morrigan, Dariel and Aedan showed up, each carrying an armful of slightly glowing, silvery-blue potion bottles.

 “Is it really that bad?” My eyes were wide, and my heart started pounding. _Three healers, another mage, and that much Lyrium? How screwed am I?_

 Wynne smiled reassuringly. “No dear. It’s just your magical resistance. I set your leg earlier, and Dariel helped me heal it enough so you could be moved; now we need to finish it. You’ll be as good as new, I promise.”

 I turned towards Anders. “Okay…but is this going to be like that other time?” I could feel myself blushing. It had felt good, but I did not particularly want it happening again, especially not in front of Alistair. Or Aedan, for that matter.

 “No, no. Limbs don’t get that sort of…response.” He winked, and I blushed even harder. I felt Alistair’s hand twitch; in retrospect, I wondered what watching Anders heal me had cost him, as I writhed and moaned. _I wonder what not punching Anders at this moment is costing him._

 Aedan looked confused, but before he could ask, Wynne started talking. “Alright, focus, please. Aedan, Alistair, if you insist on staying, be quiet. Anders, you will lead. Dariel, do what I do. Morrigan, you’re back-up.”

 The elf and the human nodded, while the witch just sniffed dismissively, and I felt Anders’ magic flare, followed by Wynne’s, then after a few moments, by Dariel’s. Wynne pulled the covers back, baring my leg; all I could see were bandages. And then my head was swimming again, as somehow the mages combined their power, and Anders directed it at me. _I didn’t know they could do that._

 It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it wasn’t pleasant either. I could feel something – bones, I assumed – sliding underneath my skin, and crunching into place, then Wynne gasped and chugged a Lyrium potion. Morrigan twitched, but relaxed again when Wynne’s expression eased. It kept going, and started to feel like someone was compressing my skin, then I felt it ease off somewhat. My skin began to itch, and I felt dizzy; Dariel reached out to grab a Lyrium potion. It went on and on. Anders started to sweat, his face became ashen, but he finally stopped casting before swaying on his feet.

 When the world finally held still again, I had a bit of residual stiffness, but my pain was gone. I smiled up at the three healers, only to see Anders’ eyes flutter; Aedan grabbed a chair and placed it behind him, guiding him to sit before he fell. Dariel looked at the tall blond man with an expression of awe; even Wynne looked impressed.

 “Wynne?”

 “Hmm? Oh, everything’s fine, Sierra. Anders just depleted himself too much.” She turned to the person in question. “Why didn’t you take some Lyrium?”

 “Didn’t need it.” His voice was weak, but audible.

 Wynne tsk’d, but cast a quick rejuvenation spell; Anders almost immediately perked up. He stood, murmuring thanks, and with a smile and a wave, left the room with Morrigan, talking animatedly. I heard something about Chantry fools and towers, and figured they were probably bonding over their mutual disdain for the Circle, the templars, and the Chantry in general. Dariel followed, asking questions about mana reserves and spell control. Wynne watched them go with an exasperated look and a shake of her head.

 “That boy is going to hurt himself one day doing that.”

 “What did he do, Wynne?” Aedan asked.

 “He has one of the deepest mana pools I’ve ever seen, and a very powerful spirit. He is, easily, the most talented healer outside of the Tevinter Imperium, and maybe even within it. But he thinks he will never run out of mana, never go too far. He’s reckless. It should have taken twice as much Lyrium, at least, for what we just did, if we’d had anyone other than him leading that. He made up the difference. But he wouldn’t have been able to heal a paper cut after.”

 “What would happen if someone completely ran out?”

 “To be honest, I don’t know. Most of us aren’t able to go that far. There’s a self-defense mechanism in there that prevents it. Anders…I don’t know how, but he’s overcome it, and not only in life-or-death situations. It makes me wonder what was done to him, either in the tower, or perhaps after being captured at some point. He hates the tower so much…there had to be something.”

 We fell silent in contemplation of that, and I knew that at least the four of us would be watching him a little more closely for a while.

 Wynne finally shrugged and turned to me. “As for you, young lady…”

 I blushed and ducked my head. “I know, I know, no more trying to throw Sten.”

 Aedan jumped up, agitated. “No more sparring at all!”

 I rolled my eyes, but Alistair cut in. “You’d really leave her defenseless when we’re heading into the Deep Roads? Besides, that isn’t our choice to make, Aedan. It’s theirs.” He pointed at me and then Wynne in succession.

 Wynne cleared her throat, interrupting the explosion I could see coming. “Yes, well. Definitely no sparring for a week. I want to make sure that knee is solid before you go testing it again.”

 “But it will be okay after that?”

“Yes, dear. It’s probably better than it was before.”

 “So I can walk? Like, now?”

 She nodded, and I pushed aside the blankets and sprang to my feet. It didn’t hurt, and I almost cried with relief. I turned and wrapped the elderly healer in a hug, and then kissed her cheek. “You’re the best, Wynne.”

 “You should thank Anders and Dariel. I just provided a bit of power. Anders did the real work.”

 “I’ll thank him when I see him,” I promised. “Both of them.”

 Aedan was standing there, practically vibrating; I turned and hugged him as well. “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

 “Sierra…I can’t even... We got back in the middle of the commotion. You weren’t conscious, you were barely breathing. There was a pool of blood under you, and you wouldn’t wake up. You can’t tell me that’s okay.”

 Wynne cut in. “That’s just her reaction to the healing, Aedan. She was conscious before that.”

“I admit it wasn’t pleasant, but I need to learn, Aedan. This world isn’t like where I grew up. I thought I could just coast through, rely on you and everyone to take care of me, but that’s not only not fair, it’s stupid. At some point I’m going to be alone, even if by accident, and I need to know how to handle myself.”

 I felt him shudder, but finally his arms came around me. He looked over my shoulder at Wynne and Alistair. “Can I talk to my sister alone for a moment?”

 They shuffled out of the room, and I pulled back. “You’re not going to convince me to stop training, you know.”

 He sighed. “I know. But I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

 “Ahh. Alistair?” He nodded. “Yeah…this wasn’t supposed to be how you found out.”

 “So it’s true? You’ve forgiven him?”

 “I have.”

 “But…how? What he did…”

 “Was stupid. I know it, and so does he. But really, I should have expected it. His insecurity… Anyways, we’ve worked through it. If anything, I think we’ll be better now than before.”

 “How can you be so calm? I’m still angry, and he didn’t even do it to me. He’s my best friend, and I still want to punch him every time I see him.”

 “That’s because you’re my protective big brother.”

 “Ha! Now you admit you’re the little sister?”

 I laughed. “I suppose I’ll have to. But seriously, Aedan…we’re okay. Better than okay. I need you to be able to accept that. He didn’t mean to hurt me. It seems to be a theme with Theirin men.”

 “Yeah I saw Ca…Theron watching pretty avidly downstairs when you were hurt. He looked concerned, but not in a...”

 “Drooling lecher sort of way? Yeah. I think he sees me as a sister, or at least an in-law. Finally.”

 “A lot happened while I was away, I take it?”

 “Not as much as it sounds. Just a lot of discussions. But that’s beside the point. How did it go with your trip? Everyone freak out at their first sight of darkspawn?”

 “A little. Not too bad. After the first hesitation, they did alright. Jowan’s more use in a fight than I thought he would be, and Anders is…awe-inspiring, actually. Not just at healing. His frost spells…anyway. Solona, on the other hand, is a little frightening with hexes and nightmares.”

 “Oh, she’s an entropy mage? I never thought to ask. Yeah, creepy.”

 “But effective.”

 “So everyone got their…uh…” I checked the open door to ensure no one was listening. “Blood?” I whispered.

 “Yup.”

 “Learn anything about Anders and Solona?”

 “Other than she’s mightily angry, no. She didn’t speak to him the entire time.”

 “Oh.” I deflated. “That’s disappointing. When’s the Joining?”

 “We’d have had it already if you hadn’t decided to smash your knee to bits! We’ll do it as soon as everyone’s had a chance to clean up. Will you come?”

 “I’d like to, yeah. Speaking of, know why Tomas isn’t offering the Joining to any of our companions?”

 “I do, actually. I asked him that. He said he was concerned that they’d learned too many Grey Warden secrets, that if he asked, and they in any way indicated knowledge of said Warden secrets, he’d be forced to conscript them, and he didn’t want to do that.”

 “So we’re going with ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ then?”

 “I…suppose.”

 “Right. Well, I don’t think Morrigan would have Joined anyway, nor Leli, and I have a hard time picturing Sten as a Warden somehow too. Wynne shouldn’t, what with her passenger, so…I guess it doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’m assuming I’m still covered in blood under all the bandages. And I’m wearing pyjamas. How about I go get cleaned up, and I’ll meet you downstairs?”

 He agreed, and I wandered off to my room, glad I wouldn’t have to stay in Eamon’s. I imagined he was happy about that, too; probably disgusted at having me contaminate his silk sheets. When I opened my door, I found Alistair, sitting on the edge of my bed, looking unsettled. He’d changed, wearing just trousers and a tunic. I went over and climbed into his lap, and he held me to him tightly as he settled back on the bed.

 “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you again.”

 “I have to admit you were sort of cute after Wayne gave you those potions. Right up until you threw up, anyways. I bet you’re a funny drunk.”

 I stuck my tongue out at him, and he chuckled. “I want to thank you for what you said to Aedan.”

 He shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”

 “No, seriously. I know you probably agree with him, and want me to stop sparring, to stay out of the fighting…thank you for understanding that I can’t. Thank you for supporting my decisions.”

 He kissed my forehead. “If I made you change to be with me, it wouldn’t be you anymore. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare me half to death. Or that I won’t be trying to stop you in future when I forget.”

 “I’m glad you were there. I knew I was safe, because you were with me.”

 “So…how angry is Aedan?”

 “He’s more…surprised. Am I that rigid? No one believed I could learn to forgive you.”

 “Well, you were pretty angry. But I, for one, am not going to complain.”

 I kissed him softly, feeling a surge of desire, which I ruthlessly suppressed. I pulled away reluctantly. “I have to get cleaned up, and we have a Joining to go to.”

 He groaned. “Let’s just stay here instead.” His fingers slide under my nightgown, stroking my thigh, and I squirmed.

 “Hey, that’s cheating.” I clambered out of his lap, heading to my wash basin.

 I smirked as he grunted when I pulled off my nightgown, but he came over to help me with the bandages, which were stuck in place with blood. We peeled them off, and I was grateful again for the healing, because there was no scab to rip off. I grabbed a cloth and soaked it; Alistair took it from my hand as soon as I rung it out, and gently started washing the blood off my leg. It wasn’t doing anything to defuse my arousal, and when he finished washing and kissed my thigh, I had to quash the urge to turn slightly and let him continue.

 I reluctantly stepped away, heading over to the armoire where my clothes were. I put on my faux velvet dress, then swept my hair up into a messy bun. “I’m so having a shower tomorrow.” I muttered.

 “Ooh. Can I come?” We exchanged anticipatory grins.

 Finally ready, we headed downstairs; as usual, we found everyone in the library. To my surprise, Morrigan was there, though she left just after we arrived. I supposed it made sense – the Joining potion required a mage to create, and she was already familiar with the process after Soldier’s Peak. And then there were just the seven of us; three recruits, three Grey Wardens, and me, whatever I was.

 I hugged Anders, thanking him profusely for healing me again; he shrugged it off, but neither of us missed the irritated sniff coming from Solona. I couldn’t wait to have some girl time with Solona; I hoped she’d tell me what was going on.

 The three mages were clearly nervous; I could sympathise, having gone through the same thing recently. It occurred to me that there was something we could at least improve upon, and I pushed and pulled until Aedan stood near Jowan, Alistair behind Anders, and I stood behind Solona. Anders watched the process suspiciously.

 “What? It’s not uncommon for recruits to faint. This way, someone can catch you, before you end up with a goose egg.”

 Aedan winked at me, and then whined. “Oh sure, you get to catch the pretty girl.”

 Solona blushed, Anders looked away and muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath, and I chuckled. “He’s joking,” I whispered so that only Solona could hear. “He’s just baiting Anders. Anders is closer to his type than you. Anyway, this way you know there’s not going to be any funny business.”

 She nodded, and then turned back to Tomas when he cleared his throat. He produced the chalice, setting it on a nearby table. He went through his spiel about how Wardens master the taint by drinking darkspawn blood. No one gasped, and Tomas shot me a dirty look. I shook my head – _I certainly didn’t tell anyone_ – and he finally finished. He nodded at Aedan, who spoke the same words as had been spoken at my Joining.

 “Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day, we shall join you.”

 Tomas stepped up to Anders. “You are called to submit yourself to the taint. From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden.”

 Anders looked over at Solona, seeming to try to convey something; after a moment with no visible response, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then took the chalice. I was perhaps the only person in the room who wasn’t nervous; I knew he would survive. Without a word, he drank, handing the chalice back to Tomas. His eyes rolled back, showing the whites, and his face scrunched in a rictus of pain. He fell into Alistair’s waiting arms and was lowered gently to the floor. Alistair checked for a pulse.

 “He lives.”

 I saw Solona twitch in front of me, and knew she cared more for Anders than she seemed willing to admit. I could understand that, with what Alistair and I had been through. “He’ll be okay. He’s just asleep,” I whispered. She nodded.

 Next, Tomas stepped up to Jowan and repeated the process. The blood mage took the chalice with shaking hands, eyes wild. I almost wondered if he’d try to escape, but it seemed sense won out. He took a steadying breath, and then drank.

 His eyes rolled back, and he fell into Aedan’s waiting arms. Aedan lowered the mage to the floor, and checked his pulse. “He’s going to make it.” I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding; I truly hadn’t been sure if Avernus’ altered potion would allow him to survive.

 Lastly, Tomas handed the chalice to Solona. She took one last look at Jowan and Anders, unconscious on the floor, and I nodded reassuringly. Taking one last breath, she opened her mouth and drank. I caught her as she fell, unable to see the agonised expression and white eyes I knew would be there. As a formality, I checked her pulse; it was steady and strong, like I knew it would be. I smiled.

  _And then there were seven._

 


	73. Seven

This is the unedited, explicit version of this story with some descriptive sex.  If you'd prefer not to read explicit sex, please see my profile on fanfiction.net!

 

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Chapter Seventy-Three: *Seven

 After surviving the Joining, it took a half hour or so for the three mages to begin to stir. They rose slowly, headaches and the remains of their nightmares disorienting them. We all sat down together in the library and answered questions about the Grey Wardens and the Blight. Being able to give them fifty years instead of thirty seemed to make things much easier, as did the improved fertility; Tomas told them he was hopeful that Wardens in the future could make it work with families. Tomas finally, reluctantly, explained the ultimate sacrifice, and though they were all sad and thoughtful, no one freaked out.

 Finally, we all headed out to the main hall for supper, meeting up with everyone else.

 I approached Dariel, thinking to offer him the same hug in thanks that I had Anders, but when I saw his eyes get a bit big I had second thoughts; instead, I offered him my hand, thanked him, and then left him alone.

 Sten approached me before I sat down, his face grim.

 “Kadan.”

 “Hey, Sten.”

 He looked uncomfortable. “I believe that I owe you an apology. I…I should not have taunted you into fighting me. And I should have been there when you woke. The bard explained to me how that would be considered respectful.”

 I shook my head. “No, no. It wasn’t your fault. It should have occurred to me that I can’t pull that move on someone quite as tall as you. And there was no need for you to spend your time staring at me sleeping. I’m fine. If you’ll allow it, once I’m permitted to start sparring, I would like to try again. I promise not to try that throw again. But it was very helpful, up until I got stupid.”

 He looked at me for a few moments before flashing me the briefest of smiles. “It would be my honour.”

 He nodded his head, I nodded mine, and he headed off to sit down at the table and eat. Joining him, we all sat down as platter after platter of food was brought out; someone must have told the kitchen that the number of very hungry Grey Wardens had increased. I filled my plate full, knowing I’d draw attention if I went back for seconds; as it was, I figured I’d have to send Alistair for another late-night raid in the kitchen so I could avoid starvation. It occurred to me that if I could take the formula for the Joining and somehow make it work on Earth, I’d be the richest coma patient in no time – I’d sell it as a weight-loss tool for people in their forties.

 After supper, Tomas herded the entire group of us to the library for a ‘planning’ meeting. Teagan and Eamon even came, to my surprise. Once everyone had settled, Tomas began.

 “The day after tomorrow, we leave for Orzammar at daybreak. Before we go, we need everyone to have all the supplies they need, and all their gear repaired or replaced. If you need something, come to me or Aedan and we will ensure you have the required funds.

 “And I need all of you to think seriously about whether you will accompany us further. The Wardens and Sierra are with me, but the rest of you have the option to remain here while we head to Orzammar. It is deep underground, and likely to be dangerous given the current political situation. Those who come will be allowed to choose whether to go into the Deep Roads, though I will ask the women not to. Dariel, Sten, Shale, Zevran, and Gorim – we welcome you, but you will not be forced.

 “Ambassadors from the Circle Tower are here already, and we expect the Elven Ambassadors any day. Those of you who remain can work with them, see if you can figure out a way for all of us to work together.

 “You can let me know tomorrow. Other than that, I recommend you all get some rest.”

 Gorim stood. “I’m coming. To Orzammar, as well as the Deep Roads. It’s why I’m here, after all.” He excused himself and left.

 Sten stood next. “I too shall accompany you. I will not stay out of harm’s way when the Blight still grows.” He left as well.

 Shale declared that she would come, with no further explanation; I wasn’t surprised – I’d told her about Caridin.

 Everyone else exchanged glances and then, one by one, slipped out of the library without declaration. I wasn’t worried; with five Wardens, plus me, Prince, Sten, Shale, and Gorim, we’d be better off than the game allowed, by far. I had to admit, it was nice being able to travel with the larger group, not being confined to four party members.

 Once it was just me and the Wardens again, Solona turned to Tomas.

 “So I am coming to Orzammar, but not into the Deep Roads?”

 She almost looked offended. Personally, I’d have been relieved.

 Tomas nodded. “That is correct. You will be the backup, in case our mission should end badly. You will be left with Riordan and whoever he manages to bring in to end the Blight. I would not put this on your shoulders if I had any other choice, but I will not willingly take a woman into the Deep Roads, and someone needs to be left to carry on against the Blight should the worst happen.”

 “You’re taking Sierra into the Deep Roads.”

 I flushed. “I’m a bit of a special case. Did Aedan tell you anything about me while you were out collecting Joining supplies?” She nodded, looking skeptical. “Right. So, I can work on convincing you later, but for now, it means I go where they go.” I pointed at Aedan and Alistair. “Otherwise I could end up all alone, somewhere in the Deep Roads, with none of you even knowing I was there.”

 I shuddered; thinking about those horrible tunnels filled with darkspawn and giant spiders and broodmothers was…disconcerting, at best. Alistair wrapped his arm around my waist, and I snuggled a little closer to him.

 Eyeing my expression, Solona asked, “Why no women in the Deep Roads?”

 Tomas sighed. “When darkspawn catch men, they kill them. Sometimes eat them. Not pleasant, but at least you don’t suffer for long. When they catch women…they don’t kill them. They change them. Turn them into darkspawn breeders.” He motioned to me. “You have a particularly poignant poem, to that effect, Sierra?”

 I repeated Hespith’s little tirade, and the new Wardens all looked ill. Tomas nodded. “That’s why.”

 Anders coughed. “Fair enough, I’d say. I’ll take death over that any day.”

 I turned to look around at the people sitting with me. “I need you to promise me something. All of you.” When I had their attention, I continued. “When we are in the Deep Roads…if I am,” I gulped, “taken, you must promise to kill me. Find me, and kill me. Don’t let me turn into one of those monstrosities.”

 The pitying looks everyone gave me were galling, but it had to be said. I coerced a promise out of the five men, though Aedan and Alistair both choked up on their turns. On that sad note, Tomas closed the meeting and excused us to go rest.

 Once back in my room, Alistair pulled me into his arms and held me for a while; I buried my face in his firm, muscled chest and enjoyed it. When he finally let go, he kissed me. It was a scorching hot, needy, demanding kiss, and it both surprised and aroused the hell out of me. I loved it when I could get my conscientious templar to lose self-control. Instead, though, he stepped back.

 “Well, darling,” he drawled, rolling his ‘r’ in a decidedly Scottish accent, “dae ye wish fer me tae go a hokin’ fer summat tae eat, lass?”

 I stared at him, open-mouthed. Not only because I had absolutely no idea what he was asking me, but also, “You do accents?”

 He laughed. “Aye. Only a wee bit o’ Starkhaven.”

 I stepped closer to him again. “What else can you say?”

 His eyes flashed mischievously, and he started spouting out phrases in a perfect, though exaggerated, accent. Half of them I couldn’t understand, but I got the picture when he called me a ‘bonnie lass’ and, when I looked confused about some of the other things he said, he called himself a ‘numpty’. I stopped trying to understand what he was saying, and just listened to the sexy drawl pour out of his mouth.

 I’d always liked accents – many linguists defined the ‘accent’ around where I grew up as actually the absence of an accent, in the English language, so anything different was awesome. Virtually any accent would catch my interest, but there were a few that just turned me to mush – Australian, for example, some British, and Scottish being probably the top three. Alistair’s normal, enunciated British was sexy, but seeing that gorgeous man speaking in a thick Scottish brogue sent a bolt of lust straight to my core.

 I realised he’d stopped talking and was looking at me with a smirk. I pressed up against his chest, reaching up to put my arms around his neck.

 “Where’d you learn Scot-, uh, I mean, Starkhaven?”

 Still with the accent, he launched into a story about another templar initiate at the monastery, a kid from Starkhaven, who was a bit of a bully; he didn’t pick on Alistair, who was older, but Alistair used to shield some of the younger, more sensitive kids from his brutality. One of the best ways to redirect his behaviour was through embarrassing him about his accent – apparently, as the only one from Starkhaven, he was sensitive about it – nobles weren’t supposed to speak with a thick brogue. So Alistair spent years perfecting the accent and using it to draw the ire of the bully. He didn’t use any vernacular I wasn’t familiar with during the explanation, fortunately, but his yes became aye, his no became nae, and he rolled every ‘r’ in an exaggerated fashion.

 It was like he knew what he was doing to me. And maybe he did, because he didn’t hesitate when I grabbed two handfuls of his hair and dragged his head down for a kiss. Desperate for the feel of his skin, I frantically worked at the buttons on his tunic, and groaning in frustration, finally just popped the last two buttons off as I bared his chest.

 “Och, ya wee harpy!” he cried, reaching down to pick me up; I wrapped my legs around his waist and recaptured his lips as my hands explored the smooth expanse of skin on his shoulders. His hands cupped my rear, his impressive upper body strength easily holding me aloft. He stumbled back, his calves hitting the bed, before falling back onto the bed with me on top of him. I was quick to take advantage, my nimble fingers touching and teasing down the flat plane of his stomach before working at the laces of his trousers.

 I wanted to taste him, so the moment I had his laces undone and smalls shoved out of the way, I did. He hissed as I devoured him, clearly trying not to, but unable to avoid a slight hip thrust that pressed him further into my mouth. There wasn’t going to be any teasing this time; I wanted him to come undone, and I wasn’t going to stop until he had. Lips, teeth, tongue, and questing fingers soon had him crying out my name, and I noted with satisfaction that he’d entirely lost the Starkhaven accent.

 I curled up next to him as he recovered, and he grinned when he’d caught his breath. He slid off the bed, pushing his trousers down and stepping out of them, then grabbing my legs and pulling me to the edge of the bed. He lifted my dress, knelt, put my legs over his shoulders, and returned the favour. Once I’d come on his tongue, he allowed me to strip out of my dress and made me peak again with him sheathed inside me, filling me.

 Part way through the night I had my first darkspawn nightmare in a few nights; he held me, kissed away my tears, and then made love to me again. It was the perfect distraction.

 In the morning, he gave me back the rose pendant he’d bought for me in Denerim. I was only too glad to have that little delicate piece of silver back, tucked underneath my clothes beside Leliana’s amulet. I kissed him passionately, and he dragged me back into the bed for an enjoyable few minutes before letting me go to redress and straighten my hair for the second time.

 The day was spent getting supplies. I ‘borrowed’ another set of spare armour from Redcliffe’s armoury, just in case the group ever split up, and then spent much of the rest of the time shopping for spices, dried vegetables, porridge, cheese, jerky, and some sort of hard, dried, heavy, bread-like substance they called a biscuit – you dipped it in soup. Alistair bought some extra canvas for tents for the new Grey Wardens, though since he and I would be sharing our enchanted tent again, we already had a bit extra; he also bought bedrolls, extra blankets, and packs. Aedan and Zev ran a crash course on extended camping for Solona and Jowan, who had apparently been useless on their mission; Anders had some skill, but Aedan was determined each of us would be self-sufficient.

 I wandered into the kitchen to chat with the cook, and with her permission and help, spent some time trying to learn how to make crackers. I was sick of dry bread and the nasty biscuit, and figured crackers would travel well but also taste better. I managed to make a few passable batches, though the cook grumbled at how much salt they used. Table salt was so easy to come by, on Earth, that it never occurred to me that it would be expensive or difficult to find.

 We all met in the library to distribute and pack gear in the afternoon. With all the food, the tents, the bedrolls, plus our clothes and gear, everyone had full packs, but given the expected three weeks of walking to get to Orzammar, we knew that wouldn’t last. I was relieved to see Anders seemed able to keep up with everything; I’d worried his malnourished, weakened state would be a problem. Though it occurred to me that maybe he was just running on rejuvenation spells. I resolved to ask Wynne later.

 Jowan was a bit irritatingly anxious about everything, but Solona managed him remarkably well. It was clear they’d been friends for a long time, and she was used to him being fussy. I wondered how he’d manage in the Deep Roads without her. Anders just sighed every time she was kind to Jowan, and it became quite comical. She’d speak, Anders would sigh, she’d roll her eyes, Jowan would clear his throat nervously, and then it would all start again. I met Aedan’s eyes and had to look away before we both burst out laughing.

 Once our shares of the group’s gear was distributed, Alistair and I took off to shower together. We didn’t have sex, but just played and splashed and laughed, freezing ourselves under the water and huddling together to warm back up. It was nice to know we could be naked together without it being so serious. Not that I had a problem with the sex, of course, but just plain fun was all too rare, and I cherished it.

 Supper was awkward, again, with Isolde glaring, Eamon ignoring, and everyone else trying not to laugh at my irritation. After, I hugged Teagan, who I refrained from teasing about Kaitlyn, and Theron, who then wandered over to have an awkward, if endearing conversation with Alistair. I turned to Blake.

 “You be good while I’m gone, okay?”

 He sniffed and nodded. “How long will you be gone?”

 “I don’t know, Blake. At least a couple of months. More, probably; it’ll be six weeks just getting there and back, never mind however long it takes us actually in Orzammar.”

 “I wish you could stay.”

 “I know. But hey, you’ll be alright with Theron. He’ll protect you. And if the Arlessa gives you any trouble, you just run straight to Theron. Okay?”

 He rubbed irritably at his eyes, and I drew him into a protective hug. He wrapped his skinny arms around my waist and buried his face. I caught Theron’s eye and gave him a look, before pointedly glancing at Blake; he nodded, and I knew he got the message to take care of the sweet child while I was gone.

 We all went to bed early, knowing we needed the rest before our long journey. Alistair and I made love, and then spent half the night talking and kissing, despite our early wake-up call. The morning came too soon, and I glared balefully at the weak morning light coming through the window before crawling reluctantly out of bed.

 There were fourteen of us when we left, including a golem and a mabari. Dariel chose to stay behind, hoping to meet with the Dalish Ambassadors and gain acceptance with them. Wynne also chose to stay, to help see to Connor’s education, and work with the Circle Mages to develop group fighting tactics. I had spoken with her about seeing if they could find ways to extend their range with spells that could help bring down the Archdemon – particularly anything with ice, or paralysis – something to foul its wings.

 As usual, Morrigan flew overhead to scout. I carried my own packs – they were heavy, but I was stronger since becoming a Warden – so that Alistair, Aedan, Sten, and Shale could help the three new Grey Wardens, as well as Morrigan, carry their gear. None of the mages were used to carrying heavy packs, and I felt slightly less bad about myself when I had to slow down to accommodate their pace. Months of walking and sparring had forged me into someone far more capable than the scared, useless little girl I’d been when I arrived. I smiled, took Alistair’s hand, and headed off down the road.

 The trip to Orzammar was really quite uneventful. No bandits wanted to cross the path of fourteen well-armed travellers, so they left us alone. We did run across a few groups of darkspawn, but the largest group was maybe twenty, and between seven Grey Wardens, four mages, and two of us able to disable Emissaries, none of them posed a serious threat. I even got to fight a couple of times, openly walking past darkspawn who ignored me entirely, only to stab my daggers into their flanks or reach around to cut their throats.

 Sometimes, in the evenings, Alistair would pull out his roll of parchment and some pencils; he’d never let me see until whatever he drew was finished, but each drawing was almost a masterpiece. And I managed to convince him to draw things other than me, at least sometimes.

 I gathered elfroot, trying to be surreptitious, while we walked, and joined Morrigan to use her mortar and pestle to make little healing potions for myself.

 Leliana often walked with me, peppering me with questions about Earth and its customs. There were a lot more diverse cultures on Earth than were known on Thedas; not for the first time, I wondered what was past the limits of the maps of Thedas I’d seen. Was it a planet, round like Earth? Or some sort of magical land that was flat? No one knew, it seemed.

 After much discussion about diversity, Leliana narrowed in to asking questions about my culture, about how I’d grown up. We talked about women’s rights, work, military, art, music…she found it fascinating. And the fact that there were no ‘nobility’, only rich and poor, and that with luck and skill (or lack thereof) someone’s fortunes could change dramatically definitely interested her. Aedan was impressed with the absence of arranged marriages, since as a noble, before the Blight, he’d have been expected to marry and provide heirs; the whole group was dumbstruck by the fact that power passed to those elected to hold it, not passed through blood lines. Who someone’s father was didn’t define who they could be. Though said father’s money could help, of course, if someone wanted to go to school or into a business that took money to start…

 We had a whole morning’s worth of conversations about weddings and betrothals. Leliana thought the whole ‘white gown signifying purity’ thing was hilarious, and everyone was surprised by the concept of wedding rings. In Ferelden, couples exchanged gifts, but the idea of marking someone as being taken, with identifiable jewelry, was new to them. It made sense, though – within the nobility, everyone would know who was unmarried, and the common people wouldn’t have the means to either buy jewelry, or move much beyond the borders of where they were born, so likely knew who in their town was still single.

 One night, when I was on watch, Solona came stumbling out of her tent, retching; knowing the likely cause, and having been through the same thing, I sat with her while she trembled.

 “Darkspawn?”

 She nodded. “But not just the usual. There was also some…thing. It sort of looked like a dwarf, at least the head did, but it had lots of breasts and tentacles and…”

 I put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s a broodmother. It’s what happens to women who are captured. It’s why you aren’t going into the Deep Roads, nor are Leliana or Morrigan.” I was selfishly sort of glad someone else had broodmother dreams, not just me.

 She took a deep breath. “I’m suddenly not at all offended by that. So…you’re really going into the Deep Roads?”

 “I don’t really have much choice. Every time that I’ve been separated from Aedan and Alistair, since I came, I ended up disappearing and landing in the middle of something. I don’t want to be trapped alone in the Deep Roads. I just can’t not go.”

 “You scared?”

 “Terrified. Completely and utterly.” I laughed bitterly.

 We sat silently for a bit, Solona watching the fire, me watching the darkness and paying attention to my darkspawn sense. Leliana joined us, and I smiled as she sat near us.

 “Did we wake you, Leli? Sorry.”

 “No, no, my friend. I just couldn’t get comfortable.”

 “Don’t like sleeping on the ground?”

 She grimaced, and Solona groaned sympathetically. “Well, not all of us have a handsome warrior to use as a mattress.”

 I grinned and blushed; Solona rescued me from my embarrassment. “What’s it like?” I must have looked confused, so she clarified. “Where you grew up. You said there’s no mages?”

 We spent a while talking about Earth. She couldn’t seem to decide whether to be fascinated or perturbed by the lack of magic. “So if I was born there…would I just not have magic? Or would it just be impossible for me to be born there?”

 “No idea. Before I came here I didn’t know magic was an actual real thing. I always thought it was a fascinating – if highly unlikely – fantasy. Frankly, I didn’t know there was somewhere else for people to be born to, either.”

 “So do you hate mages?”

 “Maker, no! Why would you ask that?”

 “People often seem to dislike what they don’t understand, or at least, fear it.”

 “I think magic is marvellous. If it wasn’t for the Chantry’s idiocy – sorry Leli – for their short-sighted lack of tolerance, I’d love to be a mage.”

 Leliana looked scandalised, and Solona rubbed her nose to hide a grin. “But aren’t you a templar? That’s what Anders said.”

 “I’m…sort of. I have some templar skills, but I obviously wasn’t trained. Alistair’s been working with me, but I still can’t smite. And my skills have nothing to do with faith or the Chantry. It’s an inherent ability because I resist magic more than most. I think having the abilities you do would be wonderful.”

 “Oh, you’d like to be able to throw a few fireballs, would you?” Her grin was teasing.

 I laughed. “Only when Aedan pisses me off.” Leliana even chuckled at that. “No, mostly I’d love to be a healer. I’ve seen some pretty horrible illnesses and injuries that we just can’t do anything for, there. To be able to heal…well, I’d do that, if I had a choice.”

 Solona glanced at Anders’ tent. “Yeah, healers are something special.” Her expression was hard to read.

 To my chagrin, Leliana didn’t listen to the obvious lack of desire to discuss a particular healer. “So what happened with you two, anyway?”

 Solona sighed, and I threw Leli a dirty look. The bard just shrugged, unapologetic.

 “If you don’t want to talk about it, Solona, it’s fine,” I offered.

 She smiled gratefully. “Thanks. But…it doesn’t matter if I tell you, I suppose.” She paused. “Anders and I, we grew up together in the tower. He was always the one who helped me, protected me…I fell in love with him. I thought…I thought he loved me too. But then, after we were together, he just…well, let’s just say monogamy isn’t in his vocabulary. And after a while, he started trying to escape. It felt personal. He’d usually run after we’d argue about his indiscretions. He was running from me, as much as from the Tower.”

 I thought about what I knew about Anders; as much as it was clear she thought she was telling the truth, something just didn’t sit well with me. It didn’t sound like the Anders I knew from Awakenings, or DA2. Not that he wouldn’t sleep around, not that he didn’t try to escape – because obviously he did – but…I couldn’t put my finger on it. She was suffering from a misconception, somewhere, I just didn’t know where.

 “Did he ever say why?” I cringed at Leliana’s ongoing insensitivity, which was so unlike her.

 Solona shook her head. “No. He’d claim he was doing it for me. Like laying with someone else was something that could, in any way, benefit me. But I was weak, and I just let him. Finally, before the last time he escaped, I broke it off with him. He was hurt, and I was so angry. I hadn’t seen him since. I’d heard he was in the dungeon, but even if I could have visited, I don’t know if I would have.”

 I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Solona. That’s a despicable thing he did; no one deserves that.”

 She forced a smile. “The part that bothers me the most is how much I want to just forgive him, to just fall into his arms and pretend like it never happened.”

 “I know that feeling.” I sighed. “I doubt there’s anything as bad for us as handsome men.”

 “I can’t see you complaining…I’ve seen the way you look at Alistair.”

 I laughed. “Yeah, but you should have seen us a week ago. Not that dissimilar a situation, actually…we were in love, and he did something phenomenally stupid. It took me a long time to forgive him. I know, after everything, he won’t hurt me like that again.”

 “I don’t see that kind of happy ending for us.”

 “Neither did we, a week ago. Give it time.” I squeezed her shoulder.

 She turned away, hiding her face; I wondered if there were tears flowing down it. “Anyway, I’d better get back to sleep.”

 “Goodnight, Solona. And if you ever need to talk…well, you know where to find us.”


	74. Love is a Weakness

Chapter Seventy-Four: Love is a Weakness

 

The next day, Solona was quite withdrawn; I walked with her, quietly, just trying to be supportive. She seemed to appreciate the effort, even if she didn’t want to talk. Jowan walked with us silently as well; when I thought about it, we’d hardly heard a peep from Jowan the entire trip.

 When I asked Solona about it, she told me he was terrified that one of us with something against blood magic would change our minds and go after him, so he was doing his best to be unobtrusive. I resolved to try to be nicer to him; I wasn’t sure how I felt about him, really, but he was a Grey Warden now and what he’d done in the past wasn’t supposed to matter anymore.

 Alistair and I made good use of our enchanted canvas tent; with now seven wardens, we could split the night into three or four watches and each of us get to sleep uninterrupted every second night. Alistair and I arranged for our watches to be on different nights, so we weren’t too tired to enjoy some alone time. Aedan and Zev seemed to do the same, but either they were masters of quiet sex, or they were leaving camp to do it, because I never heard them. _Not that I’m disappointed by that – ugh! Thank goodness for that enchanted tent._

When my time of the month came, we spent a miserable few nights lying side by side, frustrated and horny, but it was light and painless, for which I was eternally grateful.

 The non-Wardens, Sten, Shale, Gorim, Leliana, Zevran, Morrigan, and Prince, also took turns keeping watch with us. I enjoyed the chats with Morrigan, and hearing Leli’s and Zev’s stories, but it was a bit awkward sitting quietly for two or three hours with Sten or Shale. For their sakes, we tried to avoid putting Sten on watch with the mages; he scared them all senseless. It meant that the rest of the Wardens got more than our fair share of watches with the giant, which was always weird. I couldn’t complain though – at least he openly seemed to respect the four of us.

 Sten refused to comment on the differences between Earth and Thedas we’d been discussing as a group. I tried using that topic as small talk, and the stoic giant just grunted. When I tried again the second night, he shut me down, pointing out that since I was no longer on Earth, it was time for me to learn my place in Thedas and let my past life go.

 I disagreed, but didn’t think I’d get anywhere with the Qunari given their narrowly-defined roles within the Qun. Anyone who converted was expected to conform, not question.

 No one asked why I was on watch without a Grey Warden; we’d decided to just claim it was something about my unique situation where the darkspawn ignored me, if asked. _Having to hide this forever is…not going to be easy._

 Aedan had slowly come to accept Alistair and me, and the two were soon back to bickering and making fun of each other. Periodically Anders would join them, and the three of them would have the rest of us in stitches for hours, eavesdropping. Alistair had stopped being jealous, again, so I didn’t have to worry about him if Anders came over to talk or Zevran pretended to flirt. Overall, I found happiness almost overwhelming as I walked along with my chosen family.

 One day at camp, after using a nearby stream to clean up, I came back in time to hear Anders and Alistair talking as they gathered firewood. Everyone else was off doing their own thing, so no one else could overhear. The two men hadn’t heard me approach, and I stopped behind a large tree to listen.

 “So you and Sierra…” Anders began.

 Alistair’s reply was curt and irritable. “What about us?” _Or perhaps I was premature in thinking Alistair wasn’t jealous of Anders._

 “When I met you, you two were…not together.”

 “True.” Alistair grunted and dropped his armload of firewood. I could picture him looking at Anders expectantly.

 “But you were before that?”

 “Yes.”

 “And now you are again?”

 “Yes. I love her. And don’t even think about-“

 Anders interrupted. “No, no. I’m not interested in her like that. I’m just curious about what happened.”

 “I was stupid, and eventually she forgave me. That’s all you need to know.”

 “How do you apologise for doing something stupid? How did you even get her talking to you again?”

 Alistair sighed. “I take it this is about Solona.”

 There was a pause, and I assumed Anders nodded.

 Alistair muttered, “I can’t believe someone came to _me_ for relationship advice.” I almost broke out laughing. “Look, Anders, you’d do better talking to Zevran. Or Leliana. Or even Sierra. I’m not exactly a font of information, here. I’ve had precisely one relationship, and I almost ruined it. I’m just lucky Sierra’s been forgiving.”

 “But…”

 “Seriously. Go ask Sierra. For some reason, she seems to like you.”

 I chuckled to myself, and tried to circle around silently. I was intensely curious about Anders’ side of the story, and Alistair had sent him straight to me.

 It was another few days before Anders approached me. We’d finally met up with Bodahn and Sandal, and they turned their cart around to head back towards Orzammar. We figured we were maybe a week away. It was nice to be able to stow our gear again, and I sighed as I dropped my second pack onto the cart.

 “Sierra?”

 “Hi Anders.” I smiled. “Did you get your stuff packed away?”

 “Yeah, I did. Um…could I talk to you?”

 “Sure. What do you need?” _I wonder if I’m any good at acting. Mind you, he’s so nervous right now he probably won’t notice._

 “Somewhere private?”

 I looked around, and then gestured off towards the woods nearby. I made sure Aedan saw us, and he nodded in my direction. Once we were out of sight of the camp, I sat on a rock and considered the tall lanky mage. He’d steadily been putting on weight since we’d recruited him, and he wasn’t looking quite as gaunt anymore; his hair and skin looked better, he’d acquired a bit of a sunburn making his cheeks and nose ruddy, and his eyes weren’t so sunken. It looked good on him.

 “Alright, so, what’s up?”

 He looked up, and I giggled. “I mean, what would you like to talk about?”

 He sighed and sank down on a tree root. “I’m guessing Solona’s told you a bit about what happened. Between her and I.” I went to deny it, but he waved his hand. “I’ve seen you glaring at me. And it’s fine; she should have someone to talk to.”

 I nodded. “She told me her perspective. That you two were together, that you were repeatedly unfaithful, and that every time she attempted to confront you about the infidelity, you ran away and escaped the tower.”

 He looked at me, mouth agape, expression dumbfounded. After a moment, he shook his head. “She said that? She thinks I was running away from her?” His voice was pained, and I felt sorry for him. I’d guessed there was more to the story, and it seemed I was right.

 “So tell me, then, what did happen? Was she wrong? Did you not lay with other people?”

 He tried a bad joke to lighten the mood. “I wouldn’t say there was much laying involved. Mostly standing, at the tower, to be honest.”

  _Now that’s a mental image I didn’t need…_

 I scowled at him. “Anders…”

 “Okay, I know. Yes, I did have sex with others. But it wasn’t…like that. And my escapes had nothing to do with Solona. I had to; I…”

 “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

 He sighed. “I hated the tower. From the very first day, I hated it. I hated the cold stone, the stairs, the tiny windows. I hated the templars, watching…always watching. When I first came to the tower, they assigned me to a mentor. They do that for all new acquisitions.” I flinched. “Her name was Danielle. She was probably ten years older than me, and had just been made an enchanter, after passing her harrowing.

 “She was beautiful, and I had a bad case of puppy love. She was kind to me, always helping me; I’d not seen kindness since being taken away, and the journey from the Anderfels had been a long one, accompanied only by faceless, nameless templars.” He shuddered. “They hadn’t been intentionally cruel, but they wouldn’t take off their helms, wouldn’t talk to me…I was terrified, and they just let me cry, and carried me if I refused to walk.

 “Anyway, Danielle tried to make it better. She would give me little gifts, write me encouraging notes and leave them in my books, that sort of thing. She sat with me at meals so the bigger apprentices wouldn’t pick on me. She was like a big sister. Everyone liked her; I don’t even think she knew she was beautiful, but all the boys had crushes on her, and the templars watched her…

 “There was one templar in particular who was taken with her. I never knew his name – he was just a bucket-head, to me – but he wouldn’t leave her alone. She never told me, or I’d have…I don’t know. I found out later he’d been harassing her. Following her to the bath, watching her when she changed, that sort of thing. She complained to Irving, and he was reprimanded, but of course, he wasn’t removed or punished. He was right back to work the next day, and then he was angry because she’d gotten him in trouble.

 “He knew anything he did to her would be scrutinised, so he found a different way to get back at her: me. He knew she cared for me like a little brother, and he took advantage of that. He would smite me, and claim he had caught me doing forbidden magic. He’d convince the older apprentices to pick on me, and shelter them from the blame. I didn’t know why, and I went to Danielle. She tried to intervene, but he hadn’t done anything to me that could get him in trouble. He’d make my life miserable, and there was nothing to be done about it.

 “But then he told her – submit to him, and he’d protect me. At first she refused, but things got worse and worse until she relented. I can only imagine the things he made her do to buy my protection. I didn’t know – I would have put a stop to it, somehow, if I did – but she never told me. She put up with rape, and beatings, and Maker knows what else, without complaint, and for the first time, I was safe in the tower.

 “That’s when I met Solona. We became friends, and eventually so much more. But Danielle was still suffering for me.

 “I only found out later, when he finally went too far. After having silenced her so she couldn’t heal herself, he accidentally beat her hard enough to put her in the infirmary. She was battered, bleeding internally from the rapes, and pregnant. When it all came to light, I had to help heal her, and almost wasn’t successful. She nearly died in my arms. I was in a coma from mana depletion, and she was transferred to the circle in Val Royeaux. I never saw her again, but I can guess what happened to that baby. The templar responsible was reprimanded again, but instead of being punished, or excommunicated, they transferred him and covered up his sins.”

 “Oh, let me guess – to Kirkwall.”

 Anders nodded, looking surprised. I just shook my head.

 “When I found out what had happened, what he’d been doing to her, what she’d agreed to do for me…I lost my mind. I realised that love was too risky, in the tower. I decided to escape. I wanted Solona to come with me, but I wanted to be somewhere established first. I wanted to be able to protect her. But I was caught, and punished; they punished the entire apprentice class, trying to determine who had helped me. I realised that if they knew I loved Solona…”

 “They’d use her against you, the way he used you against Danielle.”

 He nodded, miserable. “Love is a weakness, in the tower. If you love something, it’s just something they can take away, something they can threaten. The only way to protect Solona was for no one to know how special she was. So I started working my way through the apprentices, even a couple of the templars. I tried to stay away from Solona, but I couldn’t. I loved her, and was drawn to her. So instead of protecting her, I hurt her, over and over.”

 “And the escapes?” I asked softly.

 “Especially before an escape, I’d make sure to be seen with multiple different people so no one would suspect how I felt about Solona. I didn’t want them to punish her for my escaping again. We’d fight about it, but we were fighting because I planned to escape. I didn’t escape because we fought.”

 “Does she know? About Danielle?”

 “No. I didn’t want to burden her with that. She was always afraid in the tower, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

 “And you wonder why she’s angry?”

 He slumped. “Not really. I just…I don’t know what to do. I love her. We are both finally out of the tower. We have a chance, and she won’t even talk to me. I’d explain, now, if she’d let me. It might not be enough – Maker knows I don’t deserve her – but I’d like the chance to try.”

 “So what do you want from me? Do you want me to tell her?”

 “No! Maker’s balls, no. I need to. But I was hoping you’d have some ideas, some insight as to how I get her to listen.”

 “What makes you think I’d have any idea?”

 “Well, after Alistair…did whatever, how did he get back in your good graces?”

 I thought. “I don’t entirely know. Apologising helped, and not trying to make excuses. He was annoyingly…there. Not creepy, or anything, just…every time I turned around, he was there. He didn’t expect anything from me, just protected me and took care of me every way he could. He’d put up my tent, carry my bags, do my chores for me…It drove me crazy, actually, but it was sort of sweet. I’d lose my temper and he’d just take it, just let me be angry…After a while, it was exhausting trying to stay mad at him. And then I wasn’t anymore.

 “I’m not suggesting this is the path for you to take. One difference between Solona and I is that she can light you on fire. Plus, he never slept with anyone else. No matter how good your intentions, that’s not going to be easy to get past.”

 He sighed. “She hates me, doesn’t she?”

 “I don’t…think so. She thinks she does, perhaps, but she’s more hurt, I suspect. And not ready to trust you, in case you hurt her again. And besides, if she hates you, at least she still cares. If she didn’t give a crap about you, she wouldn’t bother hating you. And I suspect that would be worse.”

 “I’m not convinced I’d prefer she hate me. Really.”

 I rolled my eyes. “What about writing her a letter? Don’t tell her about Danielle, don’t go into any details, just tell her that you’d like the chance to explain some things she wasn’t aware of. Don’t make excuses, though.”

 “Think she’ll agree?”

 “You won’t know until you try.”

 “Hmm. I’ll have to think about it.”

 “For what it’s worth, good luck. What happened is not your fault. You deserve to be happy. I hope you two can make a go of it.”

 I left him sitting thoughtfully in the woods. Aedan raised his eyebrow when he saw me return alone; I just shook my head. _Not my secret to tell._ I had to admit, though, that a big part of me wanted to play matchmaker. I was sure Solona would understand, would eventually forgive Anders if she knew the truth, but it wasn’t my place to get involved.

 Instead, I went to Alistair, who was sitting near the fire chatting with Leli, crawled into his lap, and put my head on his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, and I smiled.

 The walking was easier once we didn’t have to carry our packs; not for the first time, I was thankful for Bodahn. Sandal had given me a giggling hug, and Bodahn smiled when he saw Alistair and me walking together, holding hands. Solona was still avoiding Anders, but I saw signs of him taking my advice: he’d set up her tent, bring her food, and carry her bedroll for her. He didn’t lurk, but kept her within line of sight at all times, and stood guard when she was washing or taking care of personal business. _I just hope she finds it endearing, not creepy._

 As we climbed the pass towards Orzammar it got colder, and I was grateful for the warmer cloaks and gloves Leli had bought in Redcliffe. No one was happy, though again Zevran seemed to suffer the most; the mages surprised me though – apparently Jowan knew a magical trick to stay warm, and promptly taught it to the others. The four of them walked through the cold in nothing but their robes – or in Morrigan’s case, her usual barely-more-than-rags – completely unfazed.

 Alistair had taken to teasing me, while we walked; he would start talking to me with a Starkhaven accent, ‘accidentally’ fondle my ass when I was walking ahead of him, and whisper innuendos in my ear when no one was looking. It was an enormous turn-on, and it was a good thing we were surrounded by others or we’d never have made it out of our tent, never-mind all the way to Orzammar. I was so hot and bothered, by the time we made camp each night, that I’d virtually drag Alistair into the tent by the ear to have my way with him after supper, before either of us had to go on watch – and sometimes after watch, too. I was embarrassed, but insatiable, and he didn’t seem to be complaining any. _It is his fault, anyway – he’s the one teasing me!_

 I’d started sparring again after about a week on the road, cautiously at first with just Tomas, but then with Sten too. It was easier in some ways and harder in others to fight someone with a two-handed sword. I could get in hits easier, but I had to be very careful – if he ever hit me, in a real fight, I’d be down for the count, so I couldn’t ever let my guard down. It was challenging and fun, and it seemed the giant enjoyed it too. When I challenged Aedan one night, and he tried to go easy on me, I actually scored a couple of hits before knocking him on his ass. Shocked, he gaped at me like a fish out of water, while I laughed and everyone cheered. He tried harder after that, but my improvement was clear. I wasn’t as good as Aedan or Zev, but I wasn’t a liability anymore.

 The trip to Orzammar passed far too fast, and as much as I understood our hurry, I was disappointed. Despite the Blight, my ridiculous situation, and anticipating going into the Deep Roads, I was deliriously happy for the entire trip from Redcliffe to Orzammar, and I was sad those relatively carefree days were coming to a close.

 The shanty town outside of Orzammar’s enormous gates was a bit of a revelation. We fought off a small group of mercenaries – I vaguely remembered them as bounty hunters, from the game – and then entered a tightly packed, over-populated city. The dwellings were made from wood, stone, and whatever could be scavenged, including crates and broken wagons. There were narrow, twisting alleys between them, and we had to proceed carefully, single file. In the centre, as in game, there was a decent sized open square, where a beleaguered dwarf was telling an angry crowd that no one was to be let in to Orzammar. The mood of the crowd was ugly, and I worried for the dwarf’s safety, until I saw him scurry back to the guard near the gates.

 Around the central square were shops, mostly wooden tables with a merchant standing behind them, displaying a vast array of goods – silk and wool, carved wooden figurines, shoes…the only noticeable absences were quality weapons and armour, which made sense – they were made inside Orzammar, and couldn’t get out, while the luxury goods that were normally imported into Orzammar couldn’t get in.

 Bodahn went to find a stall to set up his wares; he wouldn’t be allowed in Orzammar, but having been travelling, he had more variety of goods than the other merchants, and I figured he’d be busy. We all collected our gear, and with a promise to come find him as soon as we were done in Orzammar, we left him.

 There were multiple checkpoints, not just the one, before we could access the gates of Orzammar, with angry people and dwarves shouting at nearly every one of them, but with a few words from Tomas to the guards at each checkpoint, we were waved forward. The press of people left behind each time were furious, and we all started fingering our weapons as things felt more threatening.

 Gorim, despite being helmeted, took the worst of the abuse; I supposed the other dwarves were just angry that one of their own was being allowed to the front of the line. I hoped no one had recognised him.

 At the last checkpoint, we finally ran across a representative from Loghain. On his armour, he was wearing the sigil of the crown’s personal guard – twin mabari rampant – and he appeared to recognise us, or at least, he recognised Tomas when his helmet came off. He’d been standing nearby, just watching the goings-on at the gate, but his eyes went wide when he saw Tomas. He whispered something furiously to a younger man standing beside him, who immediately ran off. I saw Tomas’ shoulders stiffen as the man approached.

 It wasn’t Imrek, but apparently he was just as vapid, and just as arrogant.

 “You!” he shouted, pointing at Tomas. “You’re Duncan! You’re the one who got King Cailan killed!”

 Tomas – or, since the jig was clearly up, Duncan – sighed. The look on my face must have been tense; everyone around me put hands on sword hilts, while the mages gripped their staves. Duncan, though, looked unruffled, just slightly sad. He put his hand up, towards us, trying to keep everyone calm.

 “I am Duncan, the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, but I did not kill King Cailan.”

 The man’s face turned red, and his expression grew incredulous. “I was there! I saw the horde descend on the vanguard at Ostagar! And you put the King at the centre of it!”

 “And your liege turned and left. Ostagar was a disaster, but there is plenty of blame to go around, don’t you think? Now if you don’t mind, I have business here. Please, step aside.”

The man sputtered and tried to rant; we all ignored him. Aedan approached Duncan and spoke softly; I could only hear because I was directly behind them. “Are you sure we should let him walk away? He knows who you are. He’ll report to Loghain.”

 Duncan sighed again. “And what would you have us do? Kill him in cold blood? We knew this charade wouldn’t last forever. Let Loghain know I’m alive – perhaps it will give him pause in his civil war.” He turned back to the guard. “Go tell your master that the Grey Wardens know what really happened at Ostagar. Or would you prefer to risk a demonstration of why the Wardens are respected as warriors across all of Thedas?”

 Sten, Alistair, Zev, Aedan, Shale, Prince, and Gorim stepped up behind Duncan, with Leli, me, and the mages behind; it felt like something from an Avengers movie. Duncan crossed his arms, and the man gulped and stepped back.

 “I will tell him.”

 With a dismissive nod, Duncan turned his back on him, and approached the seemingly amused dwarf standing nearby. He crossed his arms and bowed; the gesture was returned, respectfully, by the dwarf.

 “I was sort of hoping you would manage that particular problem of mine in a more permanent fashion,” he drawled wryly, and Duncan grinned. I had to struggle a bit to understand him; he tended to smash his words together and mumble a bit, and I wondered if that was a common accent among dwarves.

 “Sorry about that, friend, but I thought bloodshed on your doorstep might be less than politic.”

 “Wouldn’t be any different than what’s happening behind the doors.” He barked a laugh, and then stepped forward to grip Duncan’s forearm. “S’good to see you, Duncan. Been a while.”

 “Barik,” Duncan smiled. “It has been. These are my Wardens and associates – may we enter?”

 “O’course, old friend. Just don’t expect any help, inside. At the moment, Orzammar’s a civilised-looking warzone.”

 “Is the compound still available?”

 “Far’s I know,” Barik replied. “Go on in, all of you, before that idiot gathers his friends.”

 He opened what looked like a small sally-port beside the main gate, rather than the gate itself; single-file, we entered Orzammar. As the door closed, we heard a commotion; I’d have bet that Imrek had arrived and was making a fuss. I, for one, wasn’t sad to miss that fight, though punching the messenger right in the nose did sound somewhat gratifying.

 


	75. Dwarven Politics

Chapter Seventy-Five: Dwarven Politics

 The first discrepancy between the real Orzammar and the game was stairs. There was a massive flight of stone stairs, wide enough for a platoon of soldiers to march in formation, leading down into the mountain. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. It made little sense that you would enter at high altitude, even with a mountain in front of you, and be able to go up a tier to the Diamond Quarter.

 The Hall of Heroes was a lot more impressive than in game. It was probably the width and length of a football field, with dozens of statues that varied in size and groupings. Some were incredibly ornate, some ancient and much more worn with time; there were artisans working on scaffoldings, restoring the most damaged of the statues. It was tiered, leading further down into the mountain; every tier held several groupings of statues. Every sound echoed through the chamber, which could only have been done on purpose, and it kept everyone very hushed as we walked through. Duncan kept a slow pace so we could all gawk.

 The chamber was dim, except where work was being done on the statues, but what light there was came from multiple torches in sconces on pillars throughout the room, and from the far end. The temperature rose, as we got further from the doors; outside it was below freezing, but halfway across the Hall of Heroes we started taking off extra layers of clothing. By the far end, it was comfortably room temperature.

 One of the massive, round, dwarven doors stood open at the far end, leading into what I assumed were the Orzammar commons. The light was much brighter, and we all had to stop and adjust for a moment. When I could see clearly again, I stared, open-mouthed.

 I knew Orzammar was huge, but the ceiling had to be sixty feet above our heads, and along each wall were statues carved into the stone of dwarves holding that ceiling up. It was sort of creepy – I was sure the carvings were cosmetic, but it felt like the whole thing would come crashing down if one of those life-like statues decided to just let go.

 Out in front was a lake of lava that stretched as far as I could see. _That explains the temperature increase._ We were probably ten feet above the level of the lava, and the lake was ringed with stone railings. The molten substance provided ample light, and it lit the whole area. There were no torches here. Out in the centre of the lake was a massive platform, attached to the commons by a long stone bridge, and I knew that would be the proving grounds. To either side of us, huge corridors led towards the areas that I guessed would house merchant stalls, stores, and housing for casted dwarves who were not of the nobility.

 No dwarves were killing each other right at the entrance to the commons, for which I was grateful.

 Duncan took the lead, obviously, as the only one who’d been to Orzammar before. Once everyone had done gawking, he led us off to the right. He was greeted by dwarves as we walked, and everyone seemed to know who we were, as well as knowing Duncan by name. We followed along, eyeing the goods on sale – there were gems, and weapons, and carvings made out of stone, as well as vendors selling ale by the mug, and delicacies like roasted nug-on-a-stick. I tried my best not to gag; Alistair squeezed my hand sympathetically.

 We came to another massive stairwell, and I guessed it would lead up to the Diamond Quarter. I stepped up to Duncan as we climbed.

 “Tom…Duncan? Did you say something about a compound?”

 He nodded. “The Grey Wardens have been allocated an estate near the palace. It’s been ours for generations. There should be a small staff keeping it ready for us, paid for by the King. That is, unless the funding has been cut off since Endrin died.”

 “Well that would have been nice to know,” I grumbled.

 “You didn’t know?”

 “No, and I bet my boots neither do Aedan or Alistair.”

 “Neither do we what, little sister?” I looked to see both Wardens climbing stairs behind me.

 “Did you know the Grey Wardens have a compound here?”

 Both men shook their heads. Duncan smiled ruefully. “I really have been remiss in teaching you about the Grey Wardens, haven’t I? Where did you stay in the performance?”

 “It didn’t say. It never really went into detail about that sort of thing. But having a place where messages could be left or we could invite Deshyrs to talk would have been handy.”

 “I think you’ll like the place.” Duncan smiled. “Real beds, a bathing chamber with runes that fill the tub with warm water on demand, and a huge main hall with all the food you can eat.”

 Alistair chuckled. “All the things a Warden needs to call a place home.”

 After winding our way up the massive staircase, we finally opened out onto another corridor, which was essentially a balcony looking down over the commons. I realised it had been done cleverly – the balcony was the roof of the buildings below, and the noble’s estates were built into the rock face. It mean that, unless you hung over the railing, those below could not even get a glance at the nobility above.

 We walked down the corridor, now having to stop and bow as we passed the finely-dressed dwarves loitering about. It must have looked hilarious, because we all took our cues from Duncan, not knowing who we needed to bow to; we’d be walking, he’d suddenly stop and bow, and then like a little gaggle of geese behind him, we’d all stumble to a halt and copy him. No one laughed, though, and I wondered if the dwarves lacked a sense of humour, or were just being too polite.

 I had to admit, it was weird in kind of a nice way to feel tall. Especially around Sten and Shale, obviously, but even Alistair and Anders were close to a foot taller than me. Being several inches taller than the tallest dwarf was sort of gratifying. _Not that I’ll ever say that out loud…_

The estates we passed all had enormous carvings on the walls and ornate doors, competing with each other for gaudy decadence. I thought they were largely quite ugly, but who was I to judge? We finally came to an unassuming door on a plain section of wall. Duncan knocked firmly, and we waited only a few minutes before a gray-haired, enormously rotund, elderly dwarf woman answered. Her face broke out into a smile as soon as she saw Duncan, and she greeted him enthusiastically.

 “My Lord! We heard rumours of a battle on the surface, that all the Grey Wardens died; the others, they all left, but I knew, and I stayed put, my Lord. I’m so glad to see you!”

 Duncan smiled warmly. “Mistress Leta, these are my Grey Wardens and associates.”

 Her eyes went wide when she saw the number of us present, and wider still when she saw Shale and Sten with us.

 “Oh my! How exciting! Oh, how rude of me. Please, all of you, come in. Come in.”

 She ushered us through a narrow foyer and down a hall into a dining area that rivalled the main hall at Redcliffe in size. There were half a dozen tables, all with padded benches, and a small riser near the front where someone could stand to make announcements to a large group. We set our packs on one of the tables and collapsed onto seats, happy to be done with walking for a while.

 Apparently the only one left working in the estate, Mistress Leta was introduced to all of us. She nodded politely at each, though the mabari, the Qunari, and the golem still clearly made her a bit nervous. She assured Duncan that the bedrooms were all ready for us, and that she could have a couple of servants in to help, and a supper available in two hours. She pointed us down a hallway that led to the living quarters. There were a few larger bedrooms, clearly meant for important visitors, that were claimed by Duncan, Aedan and Zev, and Alistair and I; the rest of the rooms comfortably fit one, and there were more than a dozen on a second story up a narrow flight of stone steps. The rooms were nicely furnished, with large soft beds, small tables with chairs, and the walls covered in tapestries; the colour scheme was blue and silver or grey, Grey Warden colours. The only thing missing were windows.

 Alistair and I stowed our gear, changed out of armour, and headed back to the main hall. Mistress Leta showed everyone around, mostly by pointing from the chair she’d settled her large self into.

 “Down that hall, the third door and fourth door on the left are bathing chambers. Touch the runes, and warm water will flow. There’s a plug in the bottom of the tub – lift it when you’re done and the water will drain. The first two doors are storage and such; please stay out. Past the bathing rooms are the armoury and the library.

 “That hallway leads to the kitchen. There’s two larders – one you’re allowed to raid in the night, the other you are not. Both are well-stocked, so stay out of the back room.” I was sure anyone disobeying her would risk life and limb. She reminded me of a couple of the more military-style teachers I’d had in school.

 “You need anything, you let me know and I’ll arrange it. You need washing done, you put it in the hamper in your room and I’ll send it out. I’m going to bring in a couple of my girls to help out while you’re all here – you boys keep your hands to yourselves, and we’ll all get along fine. Understood?”

 “Yes, ma’am!” was the only possible response, and we all gave it. Leliana and I offered to help with the cooking, but she just laughed us off. She sent out messengers – presumably to her girls – and then hustled off to the kitchen. We all scattered to rest, and I found myself alone with Alistair, lying on our luxurious bed; not a lot of rest was had in our room, leaving Alistair with a smug grin when we headed out for supper.

 The meal was excellent, not excessively fancy, and most of all, plentiful; there was fresh bread and produce, and something that looked a lot like roast beef – I wondered if it was bronto, but didn’t ask. After the meal, we gathered to plan the next day. Duncan cleared his throat.

 “According to Mistress Leta, Prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont are indeed vying for the throne. She assures me that getting in to see either of them is unlikely, however, as Sierra said, they should be available to speak to tomorrow morning at the Assembly. I would like Aedan, Alistair, and Sierra with me; the rest of you are welcome to come with, to stay here, or to explore the Diamond Quarter or the commons, but I expect you to stay out of Dust Town and the Proving Grounds. We don’t need any trouble.

 “We will all meet here at lunch to discuss the next steps. Agreed?”

 We all agreed, and then headed to bed. I had no idea what time it was, but Mistress Leta assured us that she would wake us in the morning, shortly after dawn. I wondered how she even knew what dawn was, but didn’t ask.

 Whenever dawn was, it came too soon; I groaned when the knock came, and dressed in a haze, stumbling to the main room for breakfast. I’d given up trying to hide how much I ate when we were on the road to Orzammar, so I dug in to sausage, cheese, and pancakes like the rest of the Wardens.

 Duncan’s face was scruffy the next morning; I guessed that he’d decided, since he’d been discovered, that he didn’t need to hide his identity anymore and could let his beard grow out.

 Leliana decided to accompany us as we sought out the political contacts we would need; everyone else elected to go shopping or stay put. Zevran didn’t even show for breakfast, and a gleam in Aedan’s eyes when Alistair mentioned it made me decide I didn’t want to know. He didn’t look unhappy, so I would just let it go. ‘ _Don’t ask, don’t tell’ works both ways._

 The Assembly chamber wasn’t far from the Warden compound, so we got there early.   We were allowed in, after being admonished by the guards to be quiet and just watch. We eased into seats at the back, finding the council in the middle of a protracted discussion on trading rights and taxation with Harrowmont or Bhelen ruling. It was dull, with the exception of brief amusing screaming matches between opposing sides. I felt rather sorry for Steward Bandelore, who kept trying to bring order to the meeting, and failing badly.

 The session broke for the morning, and we were finally able to speak to the Steward. I saw Duncan try to approach Lord Harrowmont, but he was fighting upstream against dwarves who weren’t inclined to move, and the Deshyr slipped out. Bandelore confirmed what I already knew: neither would-be King would talk to us without some proof of intent.

 Rather than go talk to the seconds of both, we conferred privately in an alcove in the assembly chamber. I told them what the game indicated we’d be asked to do for each man – for Harrowmont, fight in a proving in his name, and for Bhelen, deliver letters that were probably forged to sway votes. The proving was far more honourable, and Duncan thought that Harrowmont might be convinced to back Sereda, assuming we could find her, so the decision was made. Duncan was frustrated at the complete lack of progress, and that he couldn’t find some way to remain neutral, but I knew there wasn’t a hope for that. In the end, the Grey Wardens would have to choose, as much as none of us wanted that.

 We headed back to the Warden compound and met up with the group for lunch. We decided that Aedan would fight the solo battles in the proving – as a noble, his opinion might matter more in Orzammar – and that if group battle were required, Alistair, Anders, and Sten would join him. The rest of us decided to go down to watch, with the exception of Gorim, who needed to avoid notice.

 Aedan went down to register, and learned that the Proving would begin the next day; we took the rest of the afternoon to go shopping and explore Orzammar. Leli and I tried on jewelry, Aedan, Zev, and Alistair spent their time looking at blades and armour, and Duncan wandered off to talk to Dulin Forender, Harrowmont’s second.

 We spent the evening at Tapsters, sipping at dreadful dwarven ale, listening to bawdy drinking songs, and generally having a good time. I saw a red-headed dwarf drinking alone at the back of the tavern; I tried to talk to him, but he was so drunk he could barely speak, and he passed out, flopping face-first onto a table, two minutes into the conversation. I sighed, then got everyone to help me drag the unconscious Oghren back to the compound; Aedan and Alistair dragged him into one of the bathtubs and left him there to prevent him from soiling a bedroom while drunk. He was as pungent as advertised – it hadn’t been obvious in the bar over the smell of dwarven ale and vomit, but it certainly was in the confined space of the bathing chamber. Mistress Leta, unamused, vowed to have him cleaned up the next day, and I figured his hygiene would probably benefit from that. I didn’t question her on her methods – I didn’t really want to know – but she seemed like the sort who would find a way.

 Oghren was still sleeping it off the next morning; the rest of us had breakfast together, then headed to the Proving. We walked down together, and I was nervous. I knew Provings usually weren’t fought to the death, but it didn’t make me any happier. It just meant Aedan would be handicapped somewhat in the fights, not allowed to go all out.

 Aedan, Alistair, Anders and Sten went down to the entry way into the arena, while the rest of us filed into the stands. I sat miserably between Leli and Zevran, both of whom kept patting my hands reassuringly. I wasn’t particularly reassured. Zev seemed mostly offended that we were trying to support Harrowmont; I had to assure him, again, that it did not guarantee Harrowmont the throne, before he’d stop whining about it. I couldn’t totally disagree – he would be a weak King. I hoped, yet again, that we might find Sereda in the Deep Roads – surely anything was better than either Bhelen or Harrowmont.

 After a couple of matches between warrior-caste dwarves, the announcer stood and invited Aedan to enter. He sauntered in, declaring his support for Harrowmont, and the first match began. I clung to Zev’s hand, wishing Alistair was there to comfort me.

 Seweryn was no competition for Aedan; he threw some dirt into the dwarf’s face when the fight started, and had the dwarf down with his blade to the warrior’s neck before his eyes cleared. I started to relax, though the entire concept of Provings still pissed me off.

 The twins, Myaja and Lucjan, were next; Aedan moved so fast he looked blurred, and then he had knocked Lucjan out by slamming the hilt of his sword into the rogue’s temple. A few seconds more, and he swung around to take Myaja down with a feint and a dagger to the throat. The dwarves nodded respectfully to him as they limped away.

 Sister Hanashan’s enormous two-handed sword scared the crap out of me, but true to my experience with Sten, it made her slow. Aedan darted behind her when she raised her arms – clearly she was unused to fighting a rogue – and tripped her as he passed. She stumbled forward, and he allowed her a mere moment to regain her footing, before grabbing her from behind and sliding his dagger against her throat.

 Unlike the previous opponents, she refused to concede, and she twisted, trying to use brute strength to knock him off. The dagger edged into her skin; Aedan, realising what was happening a little too late, released the dagger, but it had already done its damage, and a dark red bloodstain was spreading down the front of the Silent Sister’s armour.

 He lowered her to the ground carefully, looking up to call for a healer. Anders came racing through a side door, but didn’t even have to get close before shaking his head. Hanashan was dead.

 There was a brief break while attendants came to remove the body; Anders looked over Aedan, healing a couple of bruises while they waited. I knew Aedan would feel sick later, and I could only be glad Zevran would be there for him, even if he wouldn’t entirely understand why.

 Aedan had Alistair join him for the next fight, with Wojech and Velanz; I was worried about Alistair, too, but knowing how well he and Aedan worked together, I was actually less scared. Alistair took on the stout warrior; the arena rang with the sound of clashing shields, but Alistair’s height advantage, as well as impressive skill won, and after a couple of bashes, he had Wojech on the ground, surrendering. Aedan managed to sneak behind the rogue, Velanz, when he attempted to flank Alistair. The rogue spun, but not fast enough, and Aedan slashed, scoring a cut deep in his unprotected armpit. The dwarf dropped his sword, but came at Aedan again with just his dagger. Copying my ill-fated move with Sten, Aedan grabbed the dwarf’s wrist, bent and twisted his hips, and the injured dwarf went flying. He landed at Alistair’s feet, and conceded when the warrior held a sword to his neck.

 The last fight was a bit of a joke. Piotin was the only opponent who presented a challenge, but Anders slowed him a lot with frost, while Aedan and Sten took out his goons. Once that was done, it was only a matter of time before they wore the dwarf down; though he was, by far, the most talented fighter we’d seen, four on one gave a guaranteed outcome. He wouldn’t concede, and so Alistair was forced to drop his shield and hold the dwarf down while Aedan held a blade to his throat; the announcer finally called the victory. There were cheers and catcalls from the audience at that; I just shook my head, wondering at the idiocy of preferring death to defeat. _When defeat is inevitable, you might as well maintain as much dignity as you can while attempting to keep breathing…_

 Slightly battered and covered in blood, those who fought went back to the compound to clean up, while I accompanied Duncan to Tapster’s to meet Dulin. We arranged to meet Harrowmont after supper, and retired back to the estate ourselves.

 I hugged Aedan when we got back, checking him for injuries; he laughed me off, but held the hug as long as I wanted. Alistair, I dragged up to our room and inspected his freshly bathed skin in detail with my hands and my lips.

 After our exertions, I had a bath myself, and fell in love with the bathing room. Not only did the runes pour hot water on demand, but metal pipes under the tub allowed it to be drained easily and without a mess. It was almost like having real plumbing, and I vowed to find someone to build me one wherever I ended up settling after the Blight was over.

 When I came out for supper, I found a sober, pink-skinned, clean, angry, mostly naked dwarf standing in the main hall shouting at Mistress Leta, who just raised an unimpressed eyebrow and otherwise ignored him.

 “Oghren,” I called, repeating myself twice before I had his attention. “Stop shouting, would you?”

 “You want me to stop shouting? I’ve been taken against my will, held here by this nug-humping harpy, and been assaulted-“

 “You mean the bath? Well, yeah, sorry about that, but it was necessary. You were rather ripe. Listen, can we talk for a minute? After you get dressed. And then if you want to leave, I’ll show you out.”

 He looked at me angrily. “By the ass of my ancestors, if you think I’m intimidated by a little bit like you…”

 “Oghren, it’s about Branka.”

 That shut him up. The rest of the group had come running at the sound of his shouting; seeing that he’d been pacified, Duncan offered him a place at the table for dinner, and Oghren reluctantly accepted and got dressed in some clothing provided by Mistress Leta.

 Oghren and Gorim exchanged cool nods, and I saw Gorim’s lips thin. _He’s not going to like it when Oghren comes into the Deep Roads…_

 “I know you,” he said to Duncan, around a mouthful, a few minutes later. “You’re the Grey Warden Commander. I saw you here a few years ago.” Duncan nodded in acknowledgement, then introduced everyone else. “So when are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

 Duncan gestured to me, and I sighed, wiping my face and reluctantly pushing aside my half-finished plate. “We’re going after Branka, Oghren. Well, sort of. We’re going into the Deep Roads because we need a Paragon to break the stalemate between Bhelen and Harrowmont. I know where Branka is, and she is still alive. I figured you might want to come.”

 “You’re going into the Deep Roads? How? They’ve not even been letting the Legion scouts back in. Without a sodding arse on the throne, no one’s been able to get the Council to agree to open the doors.”

 “I know, but both Bhelen and Harrowmont want Branka found. One of them will get us a pass.”

 “Wha’dya want with me? How do you know where Branka is? If you know where she is, you don’t need anything from me.”

 “Long story, Oghren. And I’ll tell you everything, once you’ve agreed to come.”

 “Fine, fine. Ol’ Oghren will be there. Always did want to find out what happened to that woman.”

 Duncan spoke. “Get what you need and come back in the morning, then, Oghren. Sierra can explain while we walk.”

 I rolled my eyes; Duncan refused to believe we’d have to do something else before getting into the Deep Roads. Mind you, it had taken me hours to convince him we’d have to take part in dwarven politics at all, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. And who knew – maybe Duncan would be able to cut through some of Harrowmont’s bull. I wouldn’t be sad – while the Carta sort of sucked, fighting through it wasn’t something that really appealed to me, I had to admit.

 Alistair, Aedan, and I accompanied Duncan to the meeting with Lord Harrowmont. They greeted each other by name, clearly having met before. The stocky dwarf nodded to the rest of us as we were introduced, and we all sat down in his large, luxurious study to talk.

 Harrowmont thanked us for our performance in the Proving, gushing over Aedan’s remarkable skill. He then began his typical story of woe, which I knew would lead to him implying that if we cleared out the Carta, he would become King. Even had I not known the truth, it was obvious he was lying. Duncan let him get half-way through his explanation before cutting him off.

 “Stop there, Lord Harrowmont. We have known each other a long time, and I think you know I won’t be doing your dirty work for you. I have a proposition for you, but I warn you, should you turn me down, I’ll not hesitate to present the same opportunity to Prince Bhelen.”

 Harrowmont sputtered, totally offended; I wanted to cheer. _Forceful Duncan is awesome._

 Duncan waved away his complaints, cutting in. “I know that Bhelen is likely the least honourable of dwarves. I also know that, regardless of King Endrin’s wishes, you do not have the support to maintain the throne, even if you were granted it. We believe there may be another who can satisfy the Assembly’s need for Aeducan blood on the throne, but also not bring dishonour to Orzammar.”

 “There was, old friend, but perhaps you have not heard – Sereda Aeducan was exiled.”

 “I am aware. I believe, however, that she yet may live. If that is the case, and it is possible to find her, we both know what needs to be done: she will need the approval of a Paragon.

 “What I propose is this: you give us a pass into the Deep Roads. We find Sereda, if it is possible, and the Paragon Branka. Once we have Branka’s backing, Sereda can return to Orzammar and take the throne.” He lowered his voice. “I know she respected you, Pyral, and that you cared for her. I know Endrin came to regret sending her into exile. I believe you have the best interests of Orzammar at heart, and I think you can see the potential for disaster that comes with either you or Bhelen ascending the throne. She is the moderate choice, the one who can unite both sides, especially with the explicit backing of the only living Paragon.”

 Harrowmont sat quietly for a few minutes, deep in thought. “And if you cannot find Sereda?”

 Duncan grimaced. “I don’t know. I would prefer not to choose. I suppose we shall leave it up to the Paragon.”

 “And if I say no?”

 “I will lie to Bhelen, tell him I shall find Branka for him, and then look for Sereda anyway. I am certain I can convince him to give us the Deep Roads pass.”

 Harrowmont stood and paced his study, hands clasped behind his back. We waited in silence, exchanging anxious glances. Alistair squeezed my hand.  

 Finally, Harrowmont sat back down. “You’re a bastard, Duncan of the Grey. But you’ve got stones, I’ll give you that. If you can find Sereda, I’ll give her my total backing. If not, you’d better hope that the Paragon chooses me.” He glowered at Duncan, leaving the ‘or else’ hanging. I wasn’t worried – I knew that if we chose Bhelen, Harrowmont would be executed before we had the need to worry.

 Agreement in hand, we excused ourselves, and Dulin showed us out of Harrowmont’s estate. Duncan planned to go to the Shaperate to look for maps of the Deep Roads – we had Gorim’s, but more was always better, and we’d promised Shale we’d try to find Cadash Thaig while we were down there, which didn’t show on the maps we had. We didn’t want to have to come back through Orzammar again once she recalled the location later.

 The rest of us headed back to the compound. I was worried – I’d repeatedly done the math, and realised that this had been the longest stretch I’d been on Thedas since I’d first starting coming. I was afraid I’d disappear in the Deep Roads, and I didn’t want to do that.

 Sensing my mood, if not the cause, Alistair brought me to our room, carried me to bed, and made love to me until I was too exhausted to stay awake worrying. I finally passed out sprawled across his muscular chest with a sated smile on my face.


	76. Ruthless Necessity

Chapter Seventy-Six: Ruthless Necessity

 

When I woke to the sound of electronic equipment beeping, I swore out loud. _I should have known better than to think too hard about returning to Earth._ I wondered where I’d find myself when I returned – somewhere alone in the Deep Roads? Left behind in Orzammar? I looked around; it was light outside, and sunlight was streaming through the window in the room I shared with three other hospital beds. All three showed signs of occupation, but no one was around.

 I was grateful to find myself dressed in clothing again, and briefly wondered if it was normal to tip a ‘guardian’ who followed instructions exceptionally well. I sat up and laced on my boots before wandering out into the hallway. I found a nurse sitting at the desk out front; she was surprised to see me, and her face went pale when I walked up to the desk. Her eyes searched my face, and I wondered what on Earth she could be so scared of. I told her I was heading to the gift shop, and she nodded; I didn’t ask for more details, not sure I wanted to know until I saw my doctor again.

 The elderly gift shop manager I’d spoken to before was in, fortunately, and had done me an enormous personal favour of going to an electronics store and buying me a solar device charger with an adaptor for my iPhone. He’d tried to order one through the store, but when that hadn’t panned out, in a fit of compassion for a coma patient who wasn’t allowed to leave the hospital and had no family to speak of, he went to a Best Buy and purchased one. He figured he’d give it to his grandson for his birthday if I never returned for it.

 It was expensive – much more than the little rechargeable ones I’d bought previously – but I figured it would be worth it to keep access to my music more permanently. _Not that it would help in the Deep Roads…_ I turned back around and bought another of the smaller, ten dollar chargers as well.

 Those things done, I returned to my room and spent the next few hours trying to wish myself back to Thedas. I never saw my doctor, and so dodged the lecture I was sure he’d have given me otherwise.

 ******

 It must have worked, because I woke up looking at a stone ceiling. I wasn’t in a bed, however, and my first thought was to panic – was I alone somewhere in the Deep Roads?

 A gruff voice coming from off to my left reassured me that at least I wasn’t alone.

 “Oi, you there. Topsider. What are ya doin down there?”

 I looked over, to see a very old, very jaundiced, casteless dwarf. He had a large brand across his forehead, around one eye, and covering one cheek; he was so wrinkled that I couldn’t even guess what shape the dark splotch was meant to be. His teeth were yellow and several were missing as he gave me a creepy grin.

 “Where am I?”

 “Ah, little too much grog at Tapsters, I’d guess? Yer in Dust Town, sweetness. Pacifically, you’re in my alley.”

  _That explains the smell, then._ It took significant effort not to correct him and say ‘specifically’. I suppressed a smile and sat up.

 I was wedged between two stone walls, and the ceiling hung low above; nothing like the fifty or eighty foot ceilings in the commons. I could only barely see the opening to the narrow alley past the filthy dwarf blocking my path.

 “I’m very sorry, Ser. If you move, I’ll get out of your alley right away.”

 I worked my way slowly to my feet, trying not to startle him.

 “Oh, now, I’m not so sure I can let the insult stand, skyer. I have a reputation, after all. I might require some sort of…award.”

 I assumed he meant reward. “I can help with that! Come with me, and when I get to the Grey Wardens, I’m sure they’ll be happy to give you some coin for helping me out. What do you say? Give a girl an escort to the Diamond Quarter?”

 He leaned casually against the wall, evaluating me. And clearly blocking my path. I started to get really nervous. “Well, yer not a Grey Warden, so why would they want you back?”

 “My brother is a Grey Warden. He’s a human noble, too. He’ll pay handsomely for aiding me, I assure you.”

 “That so.” He spat, and I twitched, trying to avoid the disgusting gob flying toward my feet. “Well, in that case, I think I’ve got someone who’d like to meetcha.”

 He lunged, suddenly, wrapping one broad, stubby hand around my upper arm. Realising he wasn’t going to let me go, I dropped down into the stance Zevran had taught me; I was slightly off balance without armour, but I managed not to fall. I grabbed his wrist, pivoting and shifting my hips, tossing him over my shoulder to land on his face on the stone. I had assumed, given his age, that he’d be down for the count; he surprised me with his agility, springing up underneath me, twisting and sweeping my feet out from under me. I went down with a grunt; unarmed, I was a one trick pony, and when my head stopped spinning from the goose egg I could feel forming on my occiput, I realised he was poised above me, a wicked-looking improvised shiv held threateningly in front of my face.

 I put my hands out, carefully, to the side, palms open outward. “Okay, okay. You got me. No need to shed any blood. I’m worth less to you damaged.”

 He grabbed my arm again, wrestling me to my feet, the point of the improvised knife never far from my skin. I cursed the stupidity of showing up in Thedas in jeans and a sweater, wishing I’d had armour made on Earth. _Mind you, that’s one sure way to get a free one-way trip to the psych ward_. I huffed in frustration.

 “Alright, who are we going to meet?”

 “You’ve never met’er, sweetheart, but her name’s Jarvia.”

 My heart dropped. _Why am I even surprised?_

 

**

  
We walked through dust town, ducking from shadowy corner to shadowy corner, while I frantically looked for an opportunity to escape, or even draw attention to myself. I didn’t expect any of the casteless to come to my aid, but if even a rumour of a human being manhandled in Dust Town reached Solona, I figured she might at least come looking. The streets were quiet, though, and the knife against my skin prevented me from anything like escape.

 We reached a plain door, and my captor kicked the door twice, hard. The door was around an inconspicuous corner, hidden from prying eyes; the sound echoed, but no one would be able to see us. We waited a few minutes, and he kicked again, harder this time.

 A little window I hadn’t noticed slid open, and I could see one suspicious eye looking through at us; given my height, he was staring right at my chest.

 “What?” the man behind the door demanded.

 My captor shifted us sideways so he could be seen. “Open up, dimwit. Got someone the boss is gonna wanna meet.”

 “Where’s yer damn key, Tooth?”

 “Got my hands full, dummy! Lemme in!”

 With a bit more grumbling, the window slid shut and the door opened. I was pushed roughly through the opening into a dimly lit corridor, not even tall enough for me to stand straight. _Was it this bad in game? I’m pretty sure I dragged Shale through here, and she wouldn’t fit even on all fours._ I bent over slightly, stumbling as I was pushed from behind and the door swung shut. I found myself facing two armed, ugly, casteless dwarves.

 “Move, sweetheart,” my captor said, pointing down the hall.

 I scurried along, hunched over, following the doorman, cursing my height for what had to be the first time ever. I was soon lost – we passed multiple doorways and took several turns; I couldn’t keep track of the way we’d come, and I almost wondered if he’d doubled back on himself a time or two just to confuse me. I knew where I must be – the Carta hideout in Dust Town should be the only place this insanely large and convoluted. I was proven right when we finally stepped through a door and came to a halt in front of a dark-haired, female casteless I recognised right away – Jarvia.

 The room was cold, and still dim, though slightly brighter than the hallways had been. The walls, floor, and ceiling were stone, of course, but there was a colourful, thick rug covering much of the floor, and shelves and cupboards lined the walls. There were a few books, but otherwise the shelves were covered in an odd assortment of random stuff. There were weapons – old and rusty, for the most part – a few swords, some daggers, and a shield; there were a few small, ornately carved boxes; there was a small collection of utensils that looked to be genuine silver, if the tarnish was anything to go by, as well as a beautiful silver teapot; there was a plate, which I’d guess had been hand painted by an artist of renown, as the work was beautiful, if faded from age; there was a lute and a set of pan pipes; on one shelf, there was even what appeared to be a rolled up tapestry.

 And then it occurred to me – they weren’t a random collection of strange stuff, they were trophies. Maybe things taken from bodies, maybe things taken from homes as collateral or punishment. They were displayed here as a reminder to anyone who entered what would happen to their things if they got on the Carta’s bad side.

 Jarvia looked up from the desk she was sitting at, her eyes slowly travelling over my still form. I was finally able to stand straight – the ceiling in what I assumed was her office was almost normal height for a human house – and I stiffened as she examined me coldly. Finally her eyes turned to the man holding a knife to my side.

 “Explain,” she barked.

 Tooth – a nickname, I assumed – jumped and stuttered. The doorman had waited outside; we were alone. “Found this one passed out drunk in my alley, lady Jarvia. Figgered you’d wanna see ‘er – she says her friends got coin. I thought…this would pay my debt, wunnit? She’s worth more’n what I owe.”

 I sighed; _of course, the dwarf owes a debt to the Carta. I should have known._

 Jarvia stood, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “Who’re your friends, human?”

 Deciding that looking cowed in front of a predator like Jarvia was only going to get me eaten, I straightened up, threw my shoulders back, and went for cocky competence. “I travel with the Grey Wardens. I’m sure they’d pay you handsomely for your assistance in ridding me of this…” I looked at the pathetic man who’d reduced me to this, “…cretin.”

 Jarvia actually laughed; a full-bodied sound accompanied by most unladylike snorting. “Oh, you I like.” She turned to Tooth. “Keep your nose clean, and we’re even, Duster.” She nodded and pointed at the door; he left, closing it behind himself. I got just a glimpse of two, more heavily armed dwarves standing outside the door before it closed.

 Trying to maintain my bravado, I sat nonchalantly in a nearby rickety wooden chair. “So, if you just give me some parchment, I’ll write a quick note to my friends. How much coin do you think is a respectable reward?”

 She blinked at me, and then smirked as she sat back down behind her desk. “Your friends have gone into the Deep Roads, I’m afraid. No ransom is forthcoming for you.”

 I felt a trickle of pure panic down my spine. Suppressing it, I shifted my weight in what I hoped was a haughty way. “Not all of them. One of the Wardens, Solona, and some of our companions will still be here, waiting. You could send word to her.” _I just hope Aedan left her some gold!_

 “Oh, I’ll send word, deary. Don’t you worry. But not for coin – I have plenty of that, and the little a ransom would get me isn’t worth my time. However, there is something the Wardens have that I could use – influence. I’m thinking it won’t be hard to convince them to play along. What do you think?”

 I wanted to cry; coin, we could give her, as we could always earn more somehow. I just hoped Solona would be smart enough not to get in too much trouble, especially when she had to know that if she waited a while, I’d disappear again.

 Jarvia appeared to be waiting for a response; when it seemed I wasn’t able to think of one, she moved on. She got up and went to the door, opening it a crack and gesturing. The two burly dwarves standing outside entered. One had dark hair and a small goatee, the other was shaved bald, but had a black, bushy beard. They both had tattoos displayed prominently across their cheeks, and icy expressions. Jarvia walked over to a cupboard against the wall, opening it without allowing anyone to see inside. When she turned around, she held a small lump of metal in her hand; I couldn’t make out the details.

 “Hold her.”

 The two dwarves approached, one on either side. Suddenly being in the chair seemed like a distinct disadvantage. I jumped up, only to be knocked back down as one of the dwarves charged, his shoulder slamming into my gut. I gasped for breath, and flailed as the chair started to fall; it didn’t get far, before one dwarf had my arm, wrist and elbow gripped in such a way that he could easily dislocate it if I fought, and the other was practically sitting in my lap, with a hold around my neck and head, immobilizing me further.

 “Now now, deary, don’t fight. How will your friends know I tell the truth unless I send them something to recognise you by?”

 She held up the metal gadget she had, and I gasped as she turned it. It was like a miniature guillotine, obviously designed for a single finger to fit into. She was going to cut off a finger and send it back as proof of life. I almost threw up, but I couldn’t struggle, not even a little bit.

 “Like it? Beraht had this made for me right before he died. Wasn’t he a sweetheart? I haven’t gotten to use it yet.”

 “Stop!” I cried. “Wait, I’ve got something else. Something you can send as proof you have me. Please, let me show you.”

 Jarvia examined my face, before nodding once. The man sitting on me stood, releasing my head, but the other kept my elbow and wrist locked. I reached down into my pocket with my free hand and pulled out the little device charger I’d stored there, the one just like the others I’d brought before. I held it out towards Jarvia, hand shaking.

 “You’ve never seen one of these before. They are absolutely unique. They come from my homeland. There are only four of these in all of Thedas, and the Wardens have three. They will know. When they see this, they’ll know you have me. Please. Take it.”

 The dwarf holding my other arm let go when Jarvia nodded, plucking the charger from my hand and dropping it into Jarvia’s outstretched palm. She inspected it, turning it over, clearly puzzled by the little tube. Finally she looked at me.

 “Where’s your homeland? I don’t recognise this metal.”

I nodded, trying to appease her. I sorted through memories, trying to think where I could say I was from without it sounding ridiculous or getting caught on geography I wasn’t familiar enough with. “I come from very far away. North and across the ocean from Tevinter, north of the Qunari homeland.” I didn’t think many in Thedas would know what was up there. _I hope_. “I don’t actually know what sort of metal that is, but it can’t be found here. I brought four of those with me when I came; there are no others in all of Thedas.”

 “What does it do?”

 “It…I don’t think I could explain it properly. It sort of…harnesses lightning, I suppose. It can be used as a power source.”

 “By a mage? It’s magic?”

 “I…sort of, yes.” I cursed myself for not being able to come up with a more coherent lie. _I’m just not that creative under pressure!_

 “Very well. If this isn’t accepted as proof, I suppose I will just have to send them two fingers, instead of one. And if they don’t accept my deal, they should be prepared to have all of you delivered to them, one bloody piece at a time.”

 I was truly scared shitless by this point. I was barely suppressing the tears, and I squeezed my legs together – I needed to pee. I cleared my throat.

 “What do you want them to do? What are you going to do to me now?”

 “As for what, it doesn’t matter to you. They do it and you’ll survive; they don’t, and we’ll make a scavenger hunt of your body parts all over Orzammar. For now,” she turned to the two dwarves still watching me with cruel eyes, “put her in the dungeon.”

 I was dragged from the chair by one arm and my hair, making me cry out. I was yanked until I hunched over, and a blindfold was slipped over my head. Then both arms were being held, and I was being half-carried, half-pushed towards the door.

 “And boys – no funny business, you hear? She’s worth less if she’s damaged.”

 We walked for what seemed like a long time, and I wondered just how big the hideout actually was – though it occurred to me that they could be walking me in circles for all I knew. I had enough trouble keeping up while blind-folded, never mind all scrunched down, and I had no idea where I was when we finally paused. I heard one of my escorts grunt, and then felt a slight breeze as hinges groaned. We continued on, and then I was pushed, roughly – I stumbled forward, catching myself on a wall with my outstretched hands, just in time to hear the clang of a metal door closing. I ripped off my blindfold and turned to find myself in a little dungeon cell.

 The cell was perhaps four feet, cubed; three walls were solid stone, one of which was wet, and water trickled down from the ceiling to pool along the crease where wall met floor. The fourth wall was, instead, made up of narrowly spaced metal bars set into the floor and ceiling. I couldn’t stand up all the way, nor could I have stretched out all the way if I laid down. There was a crude bucket in one corner – I figured I knew what that was for, and shuddered – and that was it. No bed, no blankets, no chairs. My jailors were walking away, and went through a heavy wooden door without looking back. The hinges squealed again, and they were gone.

 I put my back against one of the dry walls and slid down to sit, my knees up, my face in my hands, and I cried. I was alone, cold, and terrified. I had no idea what Jarvia wanted from the Wardens, but it likely wasn’t good. I clenched my hands; the thought of having had one of my fingers cut off made me want to be physically sick. I finally succumbed, crawling over to the vile, dirty bucket and losing the contents of my stomach in a series of heaves. When I was done, I crawled back away from the bucket, curled up again, and let myself sob.

 When I’d finally cried myself out, a soft voice disturbed my rather depressed thoughts.

 “So what’s a human doing in the Carta’s dungeon?”

 I looked up, startled, but could see no one. I crawled over to the bars of my cell, pressing my head against the bars as far as it would go.

 “H-hello? Who’s there?”

 I saw an arm stick out on my right. “No one important, that’s for sure. Just fellow prisoners.”

 “My name is Sierra. I’m here because I accidentally ended up in Dust Town and was captured by someone who owed Jarvia coin, and she took me in payment instead. May I ask your name?”

 “Such manners! I’m Brosca. And the quiet lout on my other side who’ll be dead the minute I get out of here is Leske.”

 


	77. Making Friends

Chapter Seventy-Seven: Making Friends

 I had entirely forgotten about Leske and the dwarf commoner being in the Carta’s dungeon. I’d played the dwarf origins up to Ostagar, but never past; from what I remembered, Brosca should have been dead from self-imposed starvation, and Leske barely hanging on. And at no point was I aware of a problem that would cause one dwarf to actively want the other dead. I wrinkled my brow.

 “Brosca? That sounds…like a last name. What’s your first name? And why do you want to kill Leske, over there?”

 “Aren’t we demanding for someone trapped behind bars?”

 I flushed. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nosey. I’m just a little freaked out right now, and talking helps me stay sane. Please, tell me a story, then, or just…please, keep talking to me. I don’t care what about.”

 Seemingly appeased, I heard the dwarf chuckle. “Faren. My name is Faren. And I, well, that’s a long story, though I guess we’ve all got nothing but time, eh? Let’s see. I worked for the old leader of the Carta, Beraht. He ordered me to try to fix a Proving. When I got there, Beraht’s fighter was passed out drunk, so I put on his armour and won the Proving. Would have gotten away with it, too, except that the drunk bastard stumbled out into the ring. Leske and I were arrested, and Beraht paid the guards to bring us here instead so we couldn’t implicate him in it.

 “A while back, there was some sort of kerfuffle; something about the mages not buying Lyrium anymore. I don’t know the details, but it had everyone in an uproar…I managed to grab the guard, knock him out, and steal the keys. Leske and I escaped, but on the way out we had to fight Beraht. We killed him, but before we could get away entirely, Jarvia found us. Then Leske here,” I heard a fist slam against a metal bar in frustration, “betrayed me and sold his soul to the Carta. Offered to help Jarvia pick up the pieces after Beraht’s death. Blamed me for everything, and she fell for it. Dumped me back in here, and Leske got to live the high life as Jarvia’s second for a while. ‘Til the moron got himself caught skimming or something, and now here he is, back in the dungeon again. They contemplated putting us in the same cell, for a while – I wish they had, so I could have killed the bastard. I don’t even know what happened to my sister.”

 I jumped – of course, if he never made it out of the hideout, he wouldn’t know. I thought frantically. “Hey, wait…Brosca…is your sister named Rica, perchance?”

 “How’d you know that?”

 “I knew I’d heard the name somewhere. I met her,” I lied. I didn’t want to get into the discussion about my origins. “She’s doing fine.”

 “How’d you meet my sister?”

 “Her patron is Bhelen Aeducan. She’s pregnant with the heir to House Aeducan.”

 I heard angry grunting from the mysteriously silent Leske, and happy cursing from Faren. “Well don’t that beat all! Rica made good! You hear that, Leske? You always did have a thing for Rica, but now she’s practically a Princess!”

 There was more grunting, and I finally had to ask. “Faren, why doesn’t he talk?”

 “Ah, that. Jarvia cut out his tongue, I’m guessing. He hasn’t been able to talk since, and can barely eat. I don’t truly know what he did to get on her bad side, so I assumed stealing.”

 I had a thought. In game, Leske hadn’t been a _total_ bastard, and he’d definitely had a thing for Rica.

 “Leske? One grunt for yes, two grunts for no, okay?”

 He grunted once.

 “Did you steal from Jarvia?”

 Two grunts.

 “Something more personal, am I right?”

 One grunt.

 “Let me guess. You broke her heart.”

 One slightly hesitant grunt.

 “Because she found out you had a thing for Rica?”

 One grunt.

 “You tried to rescue her from Bhelen?”

 One very resigned grunt.

 “You wanted her to be with you.”

 Two grunts.

 “Not…oh. You were trying to protect her from backlash from Jarvia for Beraht’s death.”

 One grunt.

 Faren finally spoke softly. “You tried to protect Rica?”

 A very tired-sounding grunt.

 “I…I need to…lie down, for a bit.” Faren sounded freaked. I couldn’t blame him.

 I heard shuffling, and then nothing. It was quiet.

 I’ve never been particularly good at quiet. As much as I’d always had trouble with people – it tends to be off-putting when people realise you don’t trust anyone – I didn’t like sitting alone in the quiet. At home I always had the television or the radio on, or music from my iPod blaring; I never sat in the quiet. Even at night I had a fan to provide white noise.

 And since I’d come to Ferelden, I’d never really had much quiet. There were always others around – others who I could trust, because I knew them before having to trust them – and the sounds of talking, or snoring, or whistling, in addition to the sound of nature. I hadn’t sat with no noise much, and I wasn’t thrilled to be doing so now.

 No sounds conducted through the thick stone walls, and nothing echoed through the thick wooden door. There was no squeaking, fortunately – I was terrified of rats, overall, but figured any that tried to live in Dust Town would just get eaten. I crawled across the tiny cell and used the bucket for its intended purpose, wishing fervently for a cover to decrease the smell. I went back to sitting against the wall near the bars, and tried to relax.

 I worried what Jarvia would be asking Solona to do, and whether Solona would do it. And if she did, what then? I’d still be in the dungeon, and they’d still have leverage to manipulate the Wardens even more. I wondered if I wished myself back to Earth whether I’d end up back in this stupid cell when I returned. _Knowing my luck, probably._

 I eventually fell asleep, and woke again an indeterminate amount of time later with a headache and a sore neck. I was hungry, but mostly thirsty, and there was no sign anyone had come or gone.

 “Faren?” I whispered. I couldn’t have said why, but talking loudly just seemed wrong somehow.

 “How you holding up?” he replied.

 “I’m thirsty. Will they come by with food or water soon?”

 “Possibly. Never can tell – it’s pretty random. They seemed content to let me starve to death, but now that Leske’s back they come by with food more often. I’m guessing he made a couple of friends among the guards.”

 “How long have you been down here?”

 “Honestly? I don’t know. Lost track after a month, and that’s since my unsuccessful escape. I don’t know how long I’d been here before that.”

 “That’s just…awful. I’m amazed you haven’t weakened entirely.”

 “I exercise, as much as I can, when they feed me. Walk around my cell, do push-ups, that sort of thing. I don’t think I’ve lost too much muscle. You should do it too, if you want to be able to walk when you get out of here. I just do it out of boredom.”

 “I would, but…well, I don’t fit in here. I can’t stand up, I can’t lie down…”

 “Oh, right. That’s a problem. Hey, you got friends on the outside, though, yeah?”

 “Yeah, some. Some have gone into the Deep Roads, though.”

 “Whatever for?”

 “Oh, ah…to find the Paragon.”

 “Branka? I heard she was crazy. She’d have to be, taking her entire house into the Deep Roads…”

 “Yeah, well, we need her to pick a King.” I contemplated whether I should explain my unique situation to Faren. “It’s complicated.”

 We stopped talking at the sound of the door’s hinges squealing. A dwarf came through carrying a tray with three bowls on it, and a large water skin. He handed us each a bowl gruffly, without saying a word, and then stood there staring while we ate. There was some sort of stew in the bowl, thick with a few unidentifiable floaty bits that might have been meat. I closed my eyes, steeled my resolve, and tipped it back; as a Warden, I needed to eat when I could, and I didn’t think they’d bring me anything else if I asked.

 When all three of us had emptied our bowls, he went around and filled each one from his water skin before leaving the way he’d come in. I took as small a drink as I could talk myself into, and carefully put the bowl to the side where I wouldn’t knock it over. I figured it might be the only water I’d get for a while, and I didn’t want to end up desperate enough to lick the water running down the stone wall in my cell.

 I was starting to get cold, so I curled around myself in fetal position, pulling my arms into the sweater I wore, trying to conserve heat. I heard shuffling next door, and I guessed Faren was doing the same.

 “Goodnight, Sierra,” came his voice softly, and I replied the same.

 “Goodnight, Leske,” he whispered next.

 Leske grunted, and I smiled. What Jarvia had done was despicable, and I was happy to see that perhaps the dwarves’ friendship would be mended.

 The next day passed the same way; I alternated between sitting with my back to a wall and lying on my side in fetal position. I was getting a sore back from not being able to stretch out, and worried I’d be getting out of shape from too many days cooped up. I chatted a bit with Faren, telling him what little I knew about Rica, and surreptitiously sounding him out about Bhelen. He was surprisingly not opinionated about Bhelen – all he wanted was for Rica to be safe. If she could be safe with Harrowmont on the throne, he didn’t care.

 After a while, we ran out of things to talk about. Faren was a nice guy, but he didn’t want to talk about his life, and I wasn’t going to risk explaining my bizarre origins in a dungeon cell where others could be listening. I dozed, on and off, when I could get comfortable enough. I was starving and thirsty again; the bowl of water hadn’t lasted very long, and no one had come back to feed us or bring more water. The light was dim – only one flickering torch lit the dungeon – and still no sound penetrated the wooden door. After a while I started singing, anything I could think of to keep myself sane. I figured eventually I’d disappear, and then I’d just have to hope that when I reappeared I was somewhere safer. _Like the Deep Roads, as an example_.

 It occurred to me that if I did disappear, it could get Faren and Leske killed. The Carta would assume I’d escaped, and that Leske and Faren would know where I went or how I got out; when they truthfully claimed to have no idea, they could be tortured or killed. I decided I needed to warn them. Not that it would do them any good, but at least they’d know I didn’t do it on purpose or escape while leaving them behind…

 “Faren?”

 “Yes?” He sounded bored. _Hardly a surprise…_

 “So…I have to tell you something. It’s going to be confusing. And you completely won’t believe me, but I’m going to tell you anyway.”

 “Um…okay?”

 “So I have this habit of…disappearing. I can’t control it, before you ask, not really. It’s some sort of magic that was cast on me at birth, though we don’t know how or why, or even what sort of magic. When I do, I reappear sometime later, somewhere else. There’s more to it, but it’s even less believable than that, so I’ll leave that out for now.”

 “Well, you’re cracked, that’s for sure.”

 “I’m aware that you’ll think so, and from here there’s nothing I can do to convince you.”

 “Why are you telling me this bat-shit crazy story?”

 “Because…I’m afraid of what Jarvia will do to you if I disappear. When the guards ask you, you won’t be able to tell them where I went or how I got out. And to apologise in advance, if it happens. If I possibly can, I will come back with the Grey Wardens and try to free you. I promise I won’t leave you in here if I get out.”

 “…Yeah, okay, whatever you say.” The disbelief was clear, and I sighed. _At least I tried._

 After another few hours of quietly, miserably curling up shivering in the cold stone dungeon cell, the massive door opened, revealing the same dwarf from the previous day. He took our old bowls, distributed new bowls of a thin, sort of grey, gruel that held some resemblance to porridge, if you squinted just right. Too hungry to complain too much, I gobbled it down before holding my bowl out for water.

 Now parched, I still tried to limit how much I drank to save some for later; I was getting close to giving in and trying to lick up the water from the back wall of the cell. The food kept me from feeling sick with hunger, but my stomach still growled to let me know it wasn’t satisfied. Still miserable, I tried to sleep, only to be woken every hour with darkspawn nightmares. I apologised to Faren and Leske each time, but couldn’t seem to stop the screaming.

 I gave up on sleep, sitting with my knees up, rocking slightly. I was getting paranoid – I’d expected to disappear already, not still be sitting and waiting. _Just my luck – the time I’m stuck in Thedas is the time I’m in a dungeon._ I was antsy from the stress and worry, and it felt like someone was watching me. Which was entirely impossible; the room was far too small for someone to hide, and Leske and Faren could no more see me than I could them. I put it off as claustrophobia, but it left me irritable. When Faren tried asking me about my nightmares, I snapped at him, and he stopped talking.

 When the heavy door creaked open again, I looked up, surprised. It wasn’t time to be fed again – I hadn’t even finished my water – but I saw a pale-faced, fearful dwarf scurry through the door and slam it shut. Faren tried asking what was going on, but the dwarf hissed “Shut up, you fool!” and refused to say anything else. When the door started to open again, the startled guard backed up; I saw a muscular, hairy arm reach out from Faren’s cell and grab the back of his armour, yanking him back against the bars of the cell; a sickening crack, and the dwarf slumped to the floor. It reminded me rather violently of meeting Riordan, in game, in Howe’s dungeon before the Landsmeet.

 The door creaked shut again before it had fully opened, so there was no outcry. I heard shuffling as Faren searched the body, and then jingling; I assumed he’d found the keys. As I waited for him to try each of several keys in the lock to his cell, my paranoia escalated. I almost turned around to see who was staring at me, even though I knew no one would be there. It was giving me a bit of a headache, actually, almost like…

 “Darkspawn?” I wondered aloud. _That doesn’t make any sense. How would darkspawn get into the middle of Orzammar?_ But then I thought about it. “Grey Wardens! Solona!” I shouted.

 I heard Faren cursing at me to be quiet, but suddenly I knew what was happening that had the guard scared. Solona, and probably Leli and maybe even Morrigan, were coming to get me.

 “My friends are out there. It’s okay. We want them to find us!”

 “Another special power of yours?” He snorted. “Even if you’re right, if someone in the Carta figures that out and comes in here to hold a blade to your throat, that’s not going to help much, now is it?”

  _Oh._ “Uh, right. Shutting up.”

 Finally Faren got the door to his cell open and then came over to open mine. He was fairly handsome, I supposed, for a dwarf, with curly dark brown hair, what had been a well-groomed beard at some point, and a tattoo that gave him the appearance of a perpetual black eye. He gave me a sly grin, and overall it gave him quite a rakish sort of appearance. I grinned back, before he turned and set Leske free as well.

 I stepped out of my little cell, enjoying being able to stretch. The two dwarves shared a brief, awkward man-hug that I pretended not to see, and then Faren proceeded to search the guard’s body. He had two swords, a table dagger, a handful of silver, and some armour that almost looked like it would fit Faren. Leske helped him strip the armour off the corpse and put it on; Leske himself was a little bit broader through the chest and shoulders, and would never have fit.

 “Know how to fight, girl?” Faren asked, holding a sword out in my direction.

 “Sort of. I’m useless with a sword. I’ll take the knife, though, if you don’t need it, and you guys keep the swords.”

 He nodded; I felt immeasurably better with a weapon in my hand, even if it was a dirty table knife.

 “Now what?” I asked. “Do we go out there?”

 Faren thought about it. “No, I don’t think we should. We’re not particularly well-equipped, and there could be guards or who knows what behind that door. I think we’re best to wait. If your friends are out there,” he sounded highly skeptical, and I grinned, “they’ll find us; if not, we can defend ourselves better from in here. I can bottle-neck them at the door, keep us from being overwhelmed.”

 We settled in to wait for a few minutes; the sounds of combat started to filter through the heavy door, and then there was the sound of booted feet running. I tucked myself behind the door, where I wouldn’t be seen when someone entered; Faren and Leske ducked into my cell. Just in time – the door hinges squealed as someone entered, shouting over their shoulder in what I assumed was Dwarvish.

 He stopped abruptly at the sight of the dead guard, and I took the opportunity to put my blade to his neck. He shouted in surprise, and Faren stepped out of the cell, already swinging his weapon. Behind him as I was, I stayed mostly clean, but both Leske and Faren were sprayed with blood as the guard’s neck split open. His corpse dropped to the ground, and I jumped back in alarm.

 I strangled a screech, shooting Faren a dirty look; _we didn’t need to kill him_. I sighed as he shrugged and turned back towards the door, which had swung partially shut in the chaos. I quickly stripped an extra dagger from the corpse, and Faren picked up the small shield he carried. Leske began stripping off the guard’s armour, I assumed so he could don it himself.

 I could hear the clang of sword-fighting moving steadily closer, and I gripped my daggers; we were probably out of luck pretending we weren’t free, so I prepared myself to leave the room and have to fight. Faren stood at my side, and we waited for Leske. But before the mute dwarf could finish dressing, I heard a deep voice echoing down the hall. It was clearly an angry voice, but the British, or rather, Fereldan accent was unmistakable.

 I darted past Faren and out the door, danger forgotten in my eagerness to get to the source of that voice. I heard Faren curse, the only word I caught being ‘nug-humping’, as he chased after me. I got a few feet down the hallway, when I came to an intersection; turning my head to the right, I saw the face I’d been wishing for, and dreaming of, for two days.

 “Alistair!” There was no one left standing in the hallway except my lover, Leliana, Zevran, and Morrigan; I dropped my daggers and ran towards them raggedly, tears streaming down my face.

 Alistair’s smile could have blinded the unwary; he put out his arms just as I leaped, and caught me mid-air, crushing me to his chest. His shield, still on his arm, wrapped behind me as he held me. He was covered in gore and wearing full plate armour, and I hadn’t bathed in two days; I didn’t care. I wrapped my arms around his neck, squirming in delight as he pressed kisses to my face, over and over. I sobbed, and he kissed my tears away.

 “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in the Deep Roads.”

 “Rescuing you, you brat! I stayed behind with Zev-“

 The elf in question interrupted us. “Perhaps this is not the time for explanations, yes? Carta to kill, and all that…”

 I shook my head, and Alistair lowered me to the ground. “Right. Of course. Catch up later.” I turned to hug Leli and Zev, and even Morrigan returned my embrace. I took Alistair’s water skin, taking a long drink. “I don’t suppose you brought my amour?”

 Alistair gestured to a pack slung over his shoulder, and I pulled him down for a fierce kiss. “I love you.”

 I turned to find Faren and Leske, now both in armour, fully armed, watching with curious gazes. “Right. Faren, Leske, this is Alistair, Leliana, Morrigan, and Zevran. Guys, Faren and Leske. Leske doesn’t talk much. They’re coming with us, okay? Now make nice while I change.”

 If Faren was surprised by me giving orders to our rescuers, he didn’t say anything, but his eyebrows rose slightly. Leliana accompanied me and helped me gear up. I was shocked at how reassured I felt just wearing my armour and having my own two blades back in my hands. I gave Leli another quick hug, and then we jogged back out into the hallway. No one had moved in our absence, and the men were just staring at each other awkwardly.

 “So…have you all found Jarvia yet?”

 Zev shook his head. “What is a Jarvia?”

 Faren answered, “Leader of the Carta. Dwarva. Nasty piece of work. Will kill us if she escapes this.”

 Alistair pressed one more kiss to my forehead before re-equipping his shield properly and gripping his sword. “Let’s go make friends.”


	78. Operation Rescue

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Operation Rescue

 

 I followed Alistair and Zev through the warren of tunnels in the hideout. Unsurprisingly, everyone was equally annoyed at the height of the ceilings through most of the hallways, and we all shuffled along in a half-crouch, much to Faren’s amusement. We fought through a couple of groups of guards as we searched for Jarvia, but fortunately most of the rooms had higher ceilings, so we weren’t hampered when fighting. During the first fight, Alistair tried to keep me out of it; I gave him a dirty look, and he shrugged apologetically.

 I wasn’t enjoying fighting and killing the dwarves – most of whom, I knew, were there out of necessity, because there was no other way to survive as a casteless, not out of personal loyalty to Jarvia – but I’d come to a couple of hard truths while I sat in that dungeon cell, and I wasn’t going to stand back anymore and let the group make the hard sacrifices. I killed my first person – a balding, middle-aged dwarf who smelled strongly of ginger, of all things – and while I felt like throwing up, I didn’t let it slow me down.

 With seven of us, it didn’t take long to work our way through the hideout. More and more of the dwarves we came across started surrendering when we walked through the doors, covered in their friends’ blood and armed to the teeth; Alistair had Zev tying them up with scavenged ropes and torn strips of linen from their own tunics, promising to come back for them once we were done. We couldn’t risk them coming behind us as we fought Jarvia.

 We finally came to a door that was by far more ornate than any other we’d seen; with some quick charades with Leske, we confirmed that this was the likely place Jarvia would be. It wasn’t the door to the office I’d met her in before.

 “Look, if the game’s anything to go by, there’s probably ten or so dwarves in there, including Jarvia. There’s going to be a lot of traps.” Faren gave me a funny look, and I just waved him off. _Not the time._

 “It’s a good thing you brought me, then, yes?” Zev smirked, and I grinned. “I’ll go in right behind Alistair and deal with the traps. Just don’t move much until I tell you it’s safe.”

 Alistair nodded. “Faren? Leske? Could you two focus on keeping attention off Zevran? Morrigan, Leliana, take out any archers. Sierra, rear guard in case we missed any reinforcements, okay?”

 We all nodded our agreement and braced ourselves for a nasty fight. We weren’t disappointed. Alistair opened the door with the expedient of a booted foot; the splintering pieces flew into the room and knocked over a nearby dwarf, who screamed as he fell. Zev entered right on Alistair’s heels and ducked down, scooting over to disarm a tripwire so obvious even I noticed it. Alistair didn’t wait to talk before taking a swing at the nearest dwarf, and several more came charging towards us when it became apparent we weren’t coming further in.

 Leliana began picking off targets, while Morrigan had half of the dwarves we could see screaming, dropping their weapons, and scratching at their own eyes. I wondered if she’d been working with Solona, because I hadn’t seen quite that level of creepiness from her before. Faren and Leske were fighting side-by-side with a couple of dwarves, and after a few moments, Zevran joined them when he was convinced we had some room to move, but still shouted a warning against venturing further in.

 I felt quite useless; we had very little space, and all around me were people fighting, but I couldn’t even reach the front lines, never mind fight. There weren’t any mages, except Morrigan, and I didn’t think she’d thank me if I started using her mana for shields, so all I could do was wait.

 I’d heard Jarvia’s gravelly voice when we initially entered, but hadn’t managed to lay eyes on her; I knew she was supposed to be good at stealth, and it made me nervous. I saw some movement off to my left and realised a bald male dwarf was trying to creep towards Leliana, who was distracted raining arrows down on the other side of the room. I pushed past her and met the dwarf’s swing with my crossed blades, deflecting the sword back towards himself. Unbalanced, he tried to recover, but I was faster. Mentally thanking Sten and Duncan for their training, I angled one dagger into the armpit of his chain armour, while the other ostentatiously went for his neck. He blocked at the neck, but the other dagger bit in deep. I twisted it, as Zevran had taught me, and then pushed him away, certain that he was dying. He stumbled a few steps, dropped his sword, and collapsed, a pool of red forming underneath him.

 I swallowed thickly, still not used to such things, but fortunately the nausea I knew would come hadn’t hit me yet. Leliana and Morrigan had disabled or killed the archers we could see, and Alistair and Faren finished off the last of Jarvia’s henchmen. I turned around just in time to see Jarvia appear behind Faren, sword at the ready. There was no time, and I knew it, but still I tried to shout out a warning. Faren turned – slowly, so slowly – his expression one of surprise and horror, and tried to bring up his shield. Jarvia sneered and raised the sword, and I cried out again, only to see Faren go flying before Jarvia’s swing could land. Suddenly Leske was between the two dwarves, and I saw Jarvia’s sword find a target.

 The borrowed armour Leske had stolen hadn’t fit well, and her blade struck deep into his shoulder. I heard a mangled scream come out of his damaged mouth, and he fell. Before she could even withdraw her blade from his flesh, Alistair and Zevran were on Jarvia. She was fast, I had to admit, and dropped a smoke bomb at her feet. She disappeared from view, leaving the sword behind, and Alistair and Zev turned back to back, trying to find her in the hazy smoke. I felt Morrigan’s magic as a wind whipped up in the small room, clearing it, and then with a clang, the Carta leader had re-engaged with Alistair and Zevran.

 Faren climbed to his feet, only to drop to his knees at Leske’s side. I rushed over, knowing there wasn’t much I could do. Morrigan knew a little bit of healing, but it was obvious it wouldn’t be enough. I wasn’t even sure Wynne or Anders could have done anything. The sword had cleaved through his collarbone, and his head fell to the side at an awkward angle. His breathing was shallow, and blood was trickling out of one corner of his ruined mouth and sheeting down his chest. His eyes were open and roving, and I wasn’t sure whether he was really seeing anything.

 Faren pulled his upper body awkwardly onto his lap, cradling Leske’s head. Tears were streaming down Faren’s face, dropping down onto Leske’s braided cornrows. I took Leske’s hand, and when his eyes seemed to focus on me, I whispered to him.

 “You did good, Leske. You saved him. Saved them both. Rica would be so proud of you.”

 His lips quirked up in a small smile, and then he slumped, muscles going slack, one last shuddering breath leaving him. I reached up to close his eyes gently, and then put my hand on Faren’s shoulder. He pushed me away, suddenly surging to his feet, Leske’s body dropping to the floor with a wet thud. Faren must have lost his sword and shield when Leske knocked him over, so he grabbed Leske’s sword.

 I looked up to see Alistair and Zevran flanking Jarvia. She appeared to be an even match for either man alone, but with both of them attacking her, she could barely keep up a good defense, and she was tiring. When she dropped another smoke bomb, Faren was ready; he charged towards where he thought she’d be, catching a tripwire and setting off a small explosion of grease. Somehow, despite the slippery coating, Faren kept to his feet and tackled Jarvia. She dropped her last sword as she fell, and Faren landed squarely on top, his sword across her neck.

 He leaned down to say something – I couldn’t hear what – but her eyes widened just before he slowly, deeply, cut her throat.

 He stood up, dropping the borrowed sword, and strode from the room. The rest of us, exchanging sad glances, surveyed the wreckage. Zev and Alistair were coated in yet more gore and a good helping of grease; it was fortunate that none of the fire traps had gone off, and that Morrigan hadn’t been throwing fireballs. The room was covered in blood, and there were bodies everywhere. I turned away from the corpse of the dwarf I’d killed. I swallowed thickly; the nausea had caught up, and I struggled not to vomit.

 Morrigan, Leli, and Zev began efficiently stripping the bodies of valuables, while Alistair and I explored the room. We found some papers, many of which were written in a language I couldn’t read and assumed it was dwarven. We took them, and continued looking, finding a small chest that was locked, and an armoire full of healing potions, runes, equipment, and raw Lyrium. We gathered all of it, stuffing it into the backpack Alistair had carried my armour in, as well as a fancy sword that had belonged to Jarvia. The rest of the dwarves had precious little coin, and no equipment of worth.

 When we left the room, we found Faren standing outside, his face an expressionless mask. The only sign of his previous grief were twin tear tracks in the dirt on his face. He must have picked up his sword and shield and re-equipped them; he seemed to be waiting patiently. I approached him sympathetically, planning to hug him. He held up one hand, and I took the hint – not now.

 “What should we do with…with,” I gulped, looking around for inspiration, “the body?” I finished in a whisper.

 Faren’s face flickered through a few emotions I couldn’t place, before settling back to his mask. “Doesn’t matter. The stone won’t take us Dusters anyway. Leave it there for the guard to deal with.”

 He turned and headed down the hall we hadn’t come from. I exchanged looks with Alistair, and we turned to follow him, everyone else falling in behind. We came across a couple more rooms, all of which appeared to have been hastily abandoned. Apparently word of our victory had spread. When we reached a door I guessed would bring us out into a merchant’s shop in the Orzammar Commons, Zev and Leliana split to go back the way we’d come, releasing the tied-up dwarves who’d surrendered earlier. Morrigan, Alistair, Faren, and I pushed into the shop, surprising a middle-aged dwarf who immediately began cursing us out.

 We ignored him and left the shop; Faren’s glare shut him up nicely. We hadn’t made it far across the commons when we were approached by some of the guard.

 “You there!” We stopped and waited. “What are you doing, breaking into Janar’s, covered in gore? And you,” the guard gave Faren a dirty look. “You’re that brand who dishonoured the Proving! You were supposed to have been executed!”

 Wordlessly, Alistair and I flanked the dwarf, and I put my hand on his shoulder to stop him before he could respond. “Good sers, you should be thanking this man, not arresting him. He was only in the Proving because the old Carta leader, Beraht, threatened his family. And you have him to thank for the deaths both of Beraht himself, but also Jarvia, his second who’s been leading the Carta since Beraht’s untimely demise. The Carta is no more, thanks to Faren Brosca.” I pitched my voice loud enough to carry, and several of the passing dwarves stopped to listen. “It will be you who dishonours your ancestors if you arrest this man who accomplished what the entire guard failed to do.”

 There was muttering from the crowd, and the guards looked a little nervous. Despite that, the leader gestured to Faren, and one of his men stepped up to grab Faren’s arm. I caught Alistair’s eye, and distinctly nodded. He gave me a look, as if to say ‘are you serious?’ I nodded again, and he sighed and turned back.

 “I am Alistair, second in command to Duncan, the Grey Warden Commander, and on his authority, I invoke the Right of Conscription on Faren Brosca.”

 There was much sputtering from the guard, but there was nothing they could do. They reluctantly stepped back, and walked away. I turned to Faren, whose shoulder my hand was still resting on.

 “Sorry, Faren. I didn’t want to force this on you, but it was the only way to keep you from the noose. Or headsman’s axe. Or however they brutally murder those they consider criminals…”

 His expression was more severe than before, no longer emotionless, but seething with repressed anger. “You have some explaining to do, I believe.”

 I winced, and Alistair came around to jut one shoulder in between Faren and me. I put my hand on my warrior’s back reassuringly. “I know I do, but this isn’t the place, alright? Come back to the Grey Warden compound and I promise to tell you everything. After a meal and a bath, that is. For each of us.”

 Reluctantly he agreed; just as we turned to head to the Diamond Quarter, Zev and Leli caught up to us. Zev gave me a nod, and I knew they’d safely released the casteless dwarves back to Dust Town. I hoped that we could find Sereda, and that when we did, she’d be kind – there were a lot of casteless suddenly without the means to support themselves.

 We passed by the long bridge leading to the Proving grounds, and I looked over to see Solona slipping out of the great doors leading inside. We paused to wait for her, and she walked up beside Alistair with a nod.

 “Done?” he asked.

 She nodded. “They’ll find him tomorrow, probably, no harm done.”

 I was confused, but like everything else since I’d been rescued, it wasn’t the time or place for the discussion. The further I got from the Carta’s hideout, the more adrenaline I burned off, the more my guard dropped, and the repressed fear was raising its ugly head. I shrank down a little, tucking myself in against Alistair’s side, reaching out to grip his gauntleted hand. He squeezed, and then realising I needed something more, wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I was shaking like a leaf by the time we reached the compound, and everyone was looking at me in concern, even Faren.

 As soon as we were through the doors to the compound, Alistair reached down and lifted me into his arms; I couldn’t even bring myself to be irritated, just wrapping my arms around his neck and tucking my face into the cold, impersonal surface of his armour. He carried me through the main hall, past Mistress Leta, down the hall, and into the nearest bathing room. I could hear low voices, probably someone explaining to Mistress Leta what was going on, as Alistair kicked the door shut behind us.

 He set me on my feet, but kept an arm wrapped tightly around me, and slapped his free hand against the rune in the massive tub to start the water. When he finally stared down at me, his face looked so concerned, so sympathetic, that my control broke, and I started sobbing. I opened my mouth to try to explain, to reassure him, but he silenced me with his lips.

 Without ever letting me go completely, Alistair managed to strip both of us down. I was no help; between the tremor in my hands, the trembling in my lips, and the difficulty I had breathing while crying and kissing at the same time, it was all I could do to hang on to him for dear life. He didn’t seem to expect anything different, just methodically stripped off armour, then clothes, then underclothes, with infinite patience. By the time we were both naked, the tub was half full; Alistair lifted me up again and stepped into the tub, settling me in his lap as we both sank into the hot water.

 Alistair washed me, while I still clung to him; his touch was therapeutic, bringing me back every time I started to think too hard about my brief captivity, and each place that he scrubbed gently with a washcloth and lavender-scented soap finally began to relax and tingle. He washed my hair, softly massaging my scalp with the sweet-smelling shampoo, before helping me lay back and rinse.

 Once I was clean, he moved to start on himself; taking the cloth away from him, I returned the favour despite my shaky hands. His steady presence, kind smile, and constant touches grounded me like nothing else, and my shaking finally stopped around the time I was finished washing his hair.

 Still without a word, he gathered me up and stood; I was struck yet again by his amazing strength. He stepped out of the bath, then put me down and grabbed a towel to wrap around me. A second towel gently rubbed excess moisture from his gorgeous hair and chest before wrapping around his own waist. I whined as he covered up, and he grinned at me briefly.

 “Soon enough, love. I promise. But we need to meet everyone in the hall for explanations,” I winced, thinking of Faren, “and we need to eat. And then, if you’re good…” He leaned in and flicked his tongue along the shell of my ear, his breath on my neck raising goosebumps, leaving the rest unspoken, and I shivered.

  _I don’t know how I’m going to get through the ‘explanations’ when Alistair touching me is the only thing that keeps me sane…_

 Mistress Leta had proved her worth many time since we’d come to Orzammar, but finding a full set of casual clothing for each of us just outside the bathing chamber’s door just cemented that fact. I quickly pulled a light peasant dress over my head, without bra or panties – Alistair’s eyebrows rose and his gaze darkened, but he said nothing – and ran a comb through my hair before braiding it back. Alistair pulled on a well-worn tunic and trousers, which fit him like a second skin, making my mouth water. He chuckled at the expression on my face, kissed me all-too-briefly, and then wrapped his arm around my shoulders to drag me to the main hall.

 Everyone was waiting for us. Faren had evidently refused to get cleaned up, and had somehow braved Mistress Leta’s glare for it; everyone else had at least changed and rinsed the worst of the gore off. I foresaw the bathing rooms getting a lot of use over the next few hours.

 Faren stood awkwardly, posture tense, reminding me a bit of a porcupine with his bristles up. Everyone else lounged or sat at the table we usually sat at to eat. Mistress Leta, between staring daggers at Faren’s filthy armour, bustled in and out carrying heavy platters. The smell was heavenly, and my stomach immediately started to rumble. I didn’t know how Faren was resisting - he’d been starved for a lot longer than I had.

 Alistair dragged me over to the table and sat me in his lap, which made me blush and Leliana giggle. We grabbed plates and started loading them with the first things we could reach. I drained my water glass, still thirsty after captivity, and refilled it again before I started stuffing my face. It was difficult for both Alistair and I to eat, with me in his lap, but neither of us was willing to change our seating arrangements. We ended up eating off the same plate, feeding each other bites as well as ourselves.

 Leli, Solona, Zev, and Morrigan sat and started eating as well; Faren continued standing, hands clenched at his sides, jaw muscles twitching in agitation. I sighed.

 “Faren, please come sit? You can shout at me later, or whatever you need to do, but I know you’ve got to be hungry and thirsty. At least you can get a good meal out of it, before you rip my head off? Please?”

 He must have realised how silly, and ultimately futile, standing in the hallway was going to be when everyone else was sitting on the far side of the room eating. _He wants answers, and he’ll get them, not that he’ll believe them, but not until the wild animal currently living in my mid-section is fed._ And I knew he’d barely eaten for probably months; he needed the food.

 He sat at the far end of the table, accepting platters as they were passed, but avoiding eye contact and saying nothing. He exuded an aura like a caged tiger – I figured he’d be pacing if he hadn’t been forced to sit. I sighed again, wondering if the easy camaraderie we’d shared when captive would recover. Even if he’d thought I was crazy…

 Leliana, Morrigan, and Zev, the non-wardens, finished their meals first; Solona, Alistair, and I were still gobbling down food as fast as we could, and Faren was doing something similar. Solona cautioned him to slow down lest he make himself sick.

 Leliana cleared her throat. “Since you’re still eating, perhaps I can tell you what happened from our perspective, and then you can return the favour when you’re done?”

 I nodded and gestured with my fork, and even Morrigan laughed.

 “We woke up yesterday morning to find you gone, and your amulet left behind. Worried where you would end up, Duncan elected to take some of the group into Aeducan Thaig, and come back for the rest afterwards. So Aedan took your spare armour, and they went. Aedan was not happy leaving you, which is why Zev stayed.”

 I wrinkled my brow in confusion, after shooting Zev a grateful smile.

 Leliana seemed to understand. “Oh, why Aeducan Thaig?”

 I nodded.

 “Gorim felt it was possible that Sereda might be hiding out there, since it was recently cleared of darkspawn, and it is close to some of the Legion’s supply depots. You’d also mentioned the nobleman – Lord Dace? – and Duncan thought a rescue might be welcome, and help us gain some allies, even if we didn’t support Bhelen. They should be back tomorrow or the next day.”

  _Made sense. Smart, that Duncan._ I nodded again.

 “We thought you would be back, and weren’t too worried, until a messenger came with this,” Leliana produced my phone charger out of a pocket somewhere, “and a letter addressed to Solona. It said that the Carta had you, and that if we wished for you to remain breathing, Solona would accompany one of the Carta members into the Proving Grounds today and help him with an ‘errand’; if she did not agree…well, I’m sure you were given similar threats.”

 I swallowed and nodded, heart rate speeding up as I thought about my traumatic introduction to Jarvia. Alistair paused in his eating to kiss my cheek and tighten an arm around me.

 “Fortunately, it would seem the Carta did not count well, and they believed Solona to be the only Warden remaining in Orzammar. So we decided to send Solona with the lone dwarf and mount a rescue. The letter from the Carta didn’t leave much hope you’d ever be returned, and who knew what they might ask for in return for your continued safety?”

 Leliana grinned. “So we waited patiently,” Zev snickered and Alistair blushed at the obvious lie, “until the dwarf came to meet up with Solona, and then we went to Dust Town, found some Carta members and ‘convinced’ them to let us in to the hideout, and the rest you know, yes?”

 Solona spoke when we had all nodded. “The dwarf I was escorting was an assassin, I think. I’m still not clear on the details, but he wanted to get into the dressing room of a particular fighter and wait for him there. I paralysed him, put him in a stasis spell, tied him up, and shoved him into an equipment trunk. I’m sure someone will find him before the stasis spell wears off. I wasn’t about to kill some fighter to fix a stupid bet or whatever, but it wasn’t that poor idiot’s fault either.”

 I smiled gratefully, finally feeling full. “Thanks. I was worried about what they’d have you doing on their behalf. I didn’t want the Wardens’ reputation ruined in Orzammar over this!”

 “So, Bellissima, tell us about your adventures? I am most curious.” Zev’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he looked rather…assassin-y. If Jarvia hadn’t already been dead, I thought she’d probably have been frightened by that expression.

 I swallowed. “Woke up in a disgusting back alley in Dust Town. Some old reprobate sold me to the Carta to pay off his debt. Jarvia demanded something I could give to prove my identity,” I shuddered, and Alistair’s arms tightened instinctively, “and then locked me in the dungeon with Faren and Leske.”

 “How did you get out of the cell, cara mia?” I could see the suspicious look aimed at Faren now.

 “When you guys attacked, one of the guards panicked and came too close. Faren was able to grab him and kill him, and get the keys. Which reminds me.” I turned to Alistair. “Did you guys talk to Lyrium smugglers at some point when you were in the Circle Tower?”

 Looking confused, he nodded. “Some mage – you’d told Aedan about him – was involved in smuggling Lyrium to addicted templars. Aedan threatened him to within an inch of his life.”

 “I guess it worked – I think that’s how Faren escaped to kill Beraht.” I smiled grimly. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. Anyway, Faren, Leske and I were debating what to do next when I heard your voice.” I buried my face in Alistair’s neck. “I have never been so happy to see anyone, ever.”

 He could surely feel my tears as they ran down my face. Solona reached out to touch my shoulder. “What aren’t you telling us? Did they hurt you?”

 I wiped my face with the back of my hand and shivered. “No, no. Threatened, is all. They were going to cut off my finger to send to you as proof of life.”

 Alistair clasped my hand protectively, and I squeezed appreciatively. “I tried to will myself back, but it didn’t work. It’s always worked before! Now I’m afraid I’ll end up going back again tomorrow.”

 Faren, visibly frustrated with the conversation, finally cut in. “What are you talking about, going back? And what did you mean when you said in the dungeon that you could disappear? You know a lot about what’s going on, and I want to know how.”

 His hands were clenching, the muscles in his neck and jaw tight. His face was a bit red, his eyes bloodshot; overall he looked quite frightening. I couldn’t begrudge him his anger, though it made me recoil into Alistair’s chest. I felt Alistair tense underneath me, and patted his arm to prevent him from shouting back at Faren.

 I debated where to start. “I will explain everything, I promise. I am…” I trailed off, suddenly exhausted. I just wasn’t sure I could tell the story another time, and when feeling so vulnerable, to boot. _I’m sick of having to prove I’m not crazy._

 Leliana rescued me. “Why don’t Solona, Zev, and I fill Faren in? We can tell him about your…situation, yes? And you can answer questions in the morning. I think Alistair should take you to bed so you can get some rest, tonight, don’t you?”

 Faren nodded, reluctantly; he was obviously angry, but even he could see I just didn’t have it in me. Alistair grabbed a tray of bread and cheese leftovers, handed it to me, and then scooped me into his arms again as he took me back to our room.

 


	79. Can You Feel Me Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the original, unedited, NSFW version of this chapter. If you'd prefer not to read the explicit scenes, please come find me on fanfiction.net or livejournal under the same user name!

Chapter Seventy-Nine: *Can You Feel Me Now?

 We’d barely made it through the door when Alistair kicked it shut behind us. He set me carefully on the bed, then took the platter of food from my hands and put it on a table. Climbing up bedside me, he curled himself around me and pulled me into his embrace. I relaxed, enjoying the comfort and closeness, enjoying the warmth of his body pressed against mine. Even after the bath, I didn’t really feel warm. It felt like the cold in the dungeon had settled in to my bones, and I was having a hard time getting warm again.

 When he felt me shiver, Alistair rolled us to lay me across his chest and pull up the blankets on the bed. It felt a bit ridiculous being clothed in bed, but it was warmer, so I wasn’t about to object. His heartbeat thumped slowly in my ear, and I closed my eyes to listen to the soothing sound. His hands came up to stroke my back, and I practically purred.

 “So what was it this time?” he asked, dragging me from my reverie.

 “Hmm? What was what?” I lifted my head so I could look him in the eye.

 “What drove you back to Earth?” he clarified.

 I blushed, and he gave me an intrigued look. “Nothing. It just occurred to me that it had been a while since I’d gone back, and I was worried it would happen while we were in the Deep Roads.”

 He sighed, and I echoed him. When nothing more seemed forthcoming, I laid my head back down on his chest. We cuddled together like that for a few minutes, and I felt my eyes starting to drift closed. Suddenly they flew wide open as he reversed our positions, rolling me over and landing on top of me. He grabbed my wrists, gently pinning them above my head. I squeaked in surprise, and he silenced me with a sudden, passionate kiss. I relaxed into it as he swept his tongue through my mouth to engage with mine.

 He pulled away, panting, his eyes almost black with desire. I wiggled my hips, rubbing myself against the bulge I could feel through his trousers, and he hissed.

 “So…Avernus says that your leaving is voluntary, right? That you only go when you want to?”

 I nodded, confused by the subject matter. “Yes, bu-“

 He cut me off with a finger to my lips. “We are going to test that theory.”

 “Wha-?” I mumbled around his finger.

 “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to give you the motivation to stay. So from now on, if you go back, if you disappear, you will be…punished.”

 “Punished?” I might have been creeped out, if the mischievous glint in his eyes hadn’t made it obvious that this was a game. At least, sort of a game. _I hope._

 He nodded, and I felt one of his hands slide down my side, brushing against my breast before continuing down my hip to my thigh. I gasped as he gathered the material of my dress and slid his hand underneath, all without letting go of my wrists.

 “Punished how?”

 “I think it will be more fun to show you, actually.”

 “I haven’t agreed to this, you know.”

 “Doesn’t matter. It’s a promise I’m making to you, right here and now. Leave me again, and you will be punished.” He leaned in and whispered huskily in my ear. “Don’t worry. All you have to do is hold still. You can do that, can’t you?”

I groaned as he parroted back my own words from Denerim, but couldn’t deny that a thrill of arousal travelled down my spine in response. My hips twitched, underneath him, and he grinned.

 His hand crept up my thigh, stroking my bare hip softly. “Do you know what you did to me, sitting in my lap all through dinner with no smalls? Are you trying to kill me?”

 I smirked and wriggled against him again, and he stilled my hips with his as he pulled my dress up slowly. He briefly let go of my wrists to pull the dress over my head and toss it carelessly to the floor, then kissed me as he captured my wrists again.

 “Stay,” he whispered, and let go again to push himself up, kneeling between my thighs. I watched avidly as he pulled off his tunic, my eyes roaming over his impressive chest; I moaned out loud when he unlaced his trousers and his erection popped out, enormous and straining and beautiful. I spread my legs a little bit and wriggled, anticipating him taking me hard and fast and desperate.

 Instead, he settled back down, his belly in the V of my thighs, and used his hands to tilt my head before slowly buzzing kisses along my jaw, stopping to lick my ear before continuing down my neck. He nuzzled my collarbone, then continued further south to find my pebbled nipple with his lips, while one hand teased the other. I almost came when he gently closed his teeth around the little bud, and I writhed beneath him.

 He backed off and began planting little kisses all over my breasts, alternating sides, nibbling lightly on the sensitive skin, and then sucking until I knew he’d left marks. _I’m going to be covered in bruises tomorrow…_ I moaned in disappointment when he stopped, but gasped as I felt his tongue tease at my little belly button. He then kissed his way down over my hairless mound, settling in between my thighs.

 I was already soaked, I knew, and I quivered in anticipation of his touch, but it didn’t come. I lifted my head to look down, seeing him staring intently at me, his cheeks flushed, and his breath ghosting over my lips. When I almost couldn’t take it anymore, he finally, slowly approached and I moaned as the tip of his tongue tickled down along my slit. I bucked, needing more, but he reached around under my thighs to pin my hips with his big hands.

 He tsk’ed at me. “Moving already? For shame.”

 I blushed and flopped my head back onto the pillow. I felt his tongue again, but this time he licked firmly from my opening, all the way up over my sensitive pearl, and I cried out. He returned to tease against my opening, waiting until I whispered his name, begging, before he pressed the thick muscle inside me. I continued chanting his name, encouraging him on, as he began an in-and-out action that was driving me wild. I wanted to writhe, the pleasure of something filling me too much, but his hands holding my hips did not let go, and instead I just fluttered uselessly against the restraint.

 When I couldn’t hold out any longer, my hand, of its own accord, came to rest on the back of his head, encouraging him on, stroking through his beautiful blond hair. That must have been his cue, for he slid his tongue up and over my pearl before finally sucking the little nub into his mouth. I cried out, so close to orgasm, but he was careful not to increase the pressure, to hold me there, while his hands relentlessly kept me from bucking towards the source of my torment.

 Just before I thought I would go over the edge, he stopped. He rolled to one side, climbing back up to lay alongside me, leaving me panting and whimpering in thwarted pleasure. He recaptured my wrists, again holding them crossed above my head. He idly played with one nipple, deliciously pinching and rolling it between his fingers. It was exquisite torture, and I felt a tear roll down my cheek.

 Leaning in to kiss away my tear, he whispered, “Next time you leave me here,” he flicked my nipple and licked the shell of my ear for emphasis, “when you get back, I’m going to do this, get you worked up just like this, and then...” He paused, and I could practically hear the smirk on his face. “Leave you. Desperate and needy and so close you can almost taste it. Do you understand?”

 He flicked my nipple again, and I moaned and shivered. “Yes,” I whispered, not able to even voice my desperate plea.

 “And you agree this is a fair punishment?” He stroked my breast lightly.

 I’d have said anything he wanted to hear to be allowed to come. I wasn’t even listening to what I’d agreed to. “Yes.”

 “And you promise not to leave me again?”

 “Yes, yes, anything. Alistair, please!” I shuddered in discomfort.

 “Say it, Sierra. Say you’ll never leave me again. I want to hear it.”

 “I’ll never leave you again. I swear! Please, Alistair!”

 He left me there a few more moments, still pinching and rolling my nipple, keeping me desperately aroused, but not enough to orgasm. His gaze roving over my face, finally he nodded and his hand left my breast. Before I could even protest, he slid two fingers into my very wet crevasse and began rubbing firmly on either side of my stiff pearl. I came undone in seconds, so overwrought from his earlier ministrations; I keened, sobbing, legs twitching spastically as the sensation took over.

 I noticed with the remainder of the tiny rational part my brain that Alistair was moving, and before I’d even started to wind down, he had rolled on top of me and sheathed himself while I still convulsed. He began sliding inside me, drawing out my orgasm, groaning as he was caught in a contraction.

 It occurred to me, in my lust-filled haze, that I could feel the taint in Alistair’s veins, like I had felt it in the dungeon. It was like darkspawn, but different, tickling at the edge of my consciousness, stronger the closer I was to the source. As close as I was to Alistair, it was intense, and I could feel him as he thrust into me, then feel it lessening as he pulled out. It felt like not only was he entering my body, he was thrusting into my mind. It was overwhelming, and I cried out, wrapping my arms around his neck, hooking my heels behind his thighs, encouraging him on.

 He roared as he finally came deep inside me, and I shuddered through his irregular thrusting and twitching as his orgasm took him. My muscles clenched around the invader and I clung to his neck with abandon, panting into his shoulder as he collapsed down onto me. We stayed like that while we calmed down and our heart rates slowed; he knew I liked him to stay put for the afterglow.

 “I can feel you.”

 He snorted. “That’s not exactly a surprise, love, after what we just did.”

 I giggled and clenched my muscles, triggering a groan and a twitch. “Not that! I mean, yes, that too, but I was talking about the taint. I can sense you. I could in the dungeon, too, though I had assumed it would be Solona.”

 I could hear his smile. “And what does it feel like?” There was longing in his tone.

 “It’s sort of like the feeling when someone is staring at you when you can’t see them. It tickles at the back of my mind.”

 “I mean, what do I feel like? Does it feel different than Solona?”

 I considered, extending out my senses to judge the two different sources of taint, one near and one farther away. “It does. I never noticed.”

 Solona felt like sadness, like the moment after the break-up in a romance novel, the moment after the main character dies in a television series. Penetrating sadness was all I could feel.

 Alistair felt like… ”Sunshine.”

 “What?” He finally rolled off me, pulling me in to cuddle against his chest as we lay facing each other.

 “You feel like sunshine. Warm and happy and optimistic, shining like the sun on my face.” I basked in the sensation.

 He laughed, blushing scarlet. “I’m…flattered, I think?”

 I wrinkled my brow in confusion. “Why flattered? It’s just how you feel.”

 “Yes, but the way you feel a Warden is the way you see them. Your impressions of them flavour the sensation of their taint – it reflects your impression of them, not who they really are. So you see Solona as being sad, and that’s how she feels to you. And apparently, you see me as sunshine.” He shook his head. “I’m not feeling very manly with that description, you know.”

 I giggled, curling in closer. “If you could feel what I feel, with that scorching hot sunshine inside me when we’re making love, you wouldn’t be worried about that. That was…intense.”

 “I wish I could feel you. I wonder what you’d feel like? Duncan’s never mentioned it, but I overheard some of the others talking about how overpowering it is when two Wardens…” he blushed more, and I grinned, “get together. I wish we could share that. I’m glad the darkspawn can’t either, of course, but I just wish the Architect had left you alone.”

 I was momentarily sad about that; it seemed like it might be the only redeeming feature of the taint. But I couldn’t be too upset for long; I was with the man I loved, he had come for me against all odds, and I could now feel my own personal sunshine any time I needed it. _And I know exactly how to cheer him up._

 I pushed on his chest, and he rolled onto his back in surprise. I knelt beside him, pushing the blankets down further to expose him entirely. A sheen of sweat covered his muscular chest, his hair was a mess, and he had a beatific smile on his handsome face as he gave me a similar once-over. Looking down further, he was still semi-erect, laying against his thigh.

 I leaned over, giving Alistair quite the view, and lifted his cock with my hand before licking it from root to tip, tasting our mixed secretions. He immediately started to harden, and I smiled. I repeated it, before looking up to lock gazes with Alistair for one brief moment.

 “Can you feel me now?”

 I engulfed the head with my mouth, and his chuckle turned into a ragged moan as I suckled gently while using my hand to caress his shaft. When he was fully hard and thrusting slightly with his hips, I released him and swung my leg over his hips, sheathing him inside me in one swift move. I rode him to mutual completion as he alternated stroking my tender nipples and my overwrought clit.

 We slept snuggled together, smiles on both of our faces.

 When I woke, Alistair was looking down at me, expression guarded. Or guilty. Or something.

 “What’s that look for?”

 He flushed and looked away, only to end up staring at my breasts. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 Looking down myself, I realized I was covered in hickeys. There were several on each breast, and more up my chest; I assumed my neck was probably covered as well. I reached down and poked one of the darker bruises; it didn’t hurt.

 I looked back to Alistair, using my fingers to tilt his chin back up, waiting until he looked me in the eye. “Oh, honey, it’s fine. They’re not bruises, not really. They’re hickeys. They don’t hurt, honestly.” I appraised them critically. “I sort of like them, actually. A reminder. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to take a potion or something, or Aedan will probably lose it when he sees me.” I sighed. “Too bad, really.”

 Alistair still looked apprehensive; I leaned in to kiss him soundly. “I wouldn’t mind if you kept the marks somewhere that won’t show, next time, but don’t worry about them. Seriously.”

 When he looked ready to object, I kissed him again, and then again, until we had both forgotten what we were even talking about.

 When we finally emerged, later in the morning, the guard came around to question us about Jarvia. When I explained that I’d been kidnapped, their questions became less judgemental and more sympathetic, and giving them the papers we’d recovered from Jarvia’s office didn’t hurt either. They were quick to assure us that there would be no political ramifications for the Wardens from the untimely demise of the entire Carta, or from conscripting Faren. They were happy enough to deal with the Carta member paralysed in an equipment trunk on the Proving Grounds as well, and thanked Solona profusely for not allowing something untoward to happen to the Proving.

 Faren had a bunch of questions after his discussion with Leli and Solona the night before. I wasn’t convinced he believed me, but at least the level of hostility had toned down significantly. _I suppose he’ll believe it when I disappear next…which I won’t, if Alistair has anything to say about it_. He was pleased to hear that his sister was pregnant with a boy (even if he remained skeptical), which would make her an Aeducan, though less pleased when he remembered that we were supposedly supporting Harrowmont.

 “Not really, though. Honestly, Faren. I will do anything in my power to make sure Rica and her son are okay. We’re looking for Sereda, and if we find her, we’ll ask her to recognise Rica’s son as an Aeducan. She’ll need an heir, after all, and she sounds…reasonable, from what I can gather. Worst case scenario, you can bring her and the kid to the surface with the Wardens.”

 He didn’t seem entirely placated, but he wasn’t threatening me or glowering at me, so I called it a victory.

 “Shouldn’t you know if we will be able to find the Princess, if you know so much?”

 “I don’t know everything. In my world, my options to interact with this one were very limited. There was a script. Several things have gone off script since I’ve been here, and the changes I brought about have knocked a few others off. It’s sort of complicated. But essentially, in the game, they never let a Warden go looking for Sereda. The assumption was that she died, and that was all they wrote. But without me, the Wardens wouldn’t have gotten Gorim to open up, so wouldn’t have known about the possibility that she lived.

 “It’s all a bit…confusing.” I shrugged uncomfortably. _I hate talking about Earth and the game. My life is here now, I wish I could forget about the rest…_

 “Faren…” I debated continuing my sentence, eventually deciding I had to say something. “I’m sorry. About Leske.”

 He looked away, his jaw clenched. “Not your fault. If it hadn’t been for you I’d probably have killed him instead of setting him loose in that dungeon. Stupid bastard; I don’t know what he was thinking.”

 “He was thinking he wanted to make amends. To give you a second chance. Don’t demean his choice by calling him stupid, Faren. In the end, he loved you and Rica, and that’s valuable.”

 Faren closed his eyes, and I wondered if he was fighting back tears. “And I won’t forget.”

 I hesitantly set my hand on his shoulder, pulling it back when he flinched. “If there’s anything we can do…even if you just want to talk…”

 “Thanks, but no thanks. I appreciate the thought, though.” He turned and walked away, and I watched him until he climbed the stairs leading to the room he’d been assigned.

 Alistair and I spent the rest of the day cuddling, and chatting with Leli and Zev, who were trying to draw out the details of what had me so freaked out the night before. I told them about the threat to remove a finger as proof of life, and Leli hugged me sympathetically. I didn’t want to admit that a lot of it was killing my first person. Regardless of how necessary it was, I felt sick over the loss of life, but I didn’t want to say that in front of my chosen family, all of whom had killed people in the past, some of them to defend me.

 I knew Alistair could tell what I was trying to avoid saying, though, when he squeezed my hand and saved me by changing the subject.

 I asked Leli and Zev to show me how to fight unarmed; they were surprised until I explained my little tussle with Tooth. We cleared some of the tables out of the middle of the room, and Faren surprised me by joining in my training. I actually found unarmed combat easier than armed, and they were able to expand my repertoire of moves, so I didn’t have just the one throw in my arsenal. I wasn’t exactly going to qualify for the MMA league, but at least I had a few things to practice for self-defense.

 After lunch, and replacing the tables under Mistress Leta’s baleful gaze, Alistair dragged me back to our room for a ‘nap’, in which no sleep was had. We kissed and talked and made love, then talked and made love some more, until we emerged for supper starving and rumpled. Zev muttered bitterly under his breath, and I assumed he was missing Aedan. Leliana gave me a wicked smile and a wink. Faren and Solona just ignored the obvious signs of the nooky we’d been having.

 We spent the evening playing cards, or at least, everyone else did. Not only did I not know the games, I was useless as a poker player, so I watched. To no one’s surprise, Zev and Faren split the pot pretty evenly. Everyone was grumbling as we got ready to head to bed when the main doors to the estate opened, and in walked Duncan, Aedan, and all of our other companions.

 They were covered in grime, but otherwise uninjured; I resisted throwing myself into Aedan’s arms, since I didn’t want to need another bath. We took turns telling each other about our experiences; telling Aedan about my rescue from the Carta had him giving Zevran a heated kiss and threatening everyone else with a grimy hug. Then Duncan told their story.

 “She’s not in Aeducan Thaig, though she’s been through there, I suspect. We rescued Lord Dace from a darkspawn attack – I thought it was supposed to be deepstalkers, Sierra?” I shrugged; Maker only knew what liberties BioWare had taken with the details of the deep roads missions _. I just hope they were accurate with location of the Anvil._ “He is willing to support our candidate, whoever that should be. I was non-committal. Sadly one of his men was tainted, but he managed to survive the Joining. This is our newest Grey Warden, who prefers to be called Bel.”

 I hadn’t even noticed the extra dwarf in the party, so focused was I on my brother and my honorary father. Bel pulled off his helmet; he was dwarven, obviously, but strangely enough, entirely bald. He had no facial hair whatsoever, and I was startled to notice he even lacked eyebrows. And there was no sign of stubble, either. I tried to hide my strange look, but a dwarf without a beard still weirded me out a little, Sandal not included.

 “At any rate, Lord Dace mentioned weapons and armour missing from chests that require an Aeducan signet to open, so it seems Lady Aeducan is armed and made it at least that far.”

 We exchanged smiles. I really hoped that we’d be able to find Sereda; if not, I was going to have to recommend crowning Bhelen, and I really didn’t want to.

 As I thought about it, I noticed that Faren, behind me, was standing rather stiffly, his face a distant, expressionless mask that wasn’t like him. Following his line of sight, I saw the other dwarves, Gorim and Bel, giving him the evil eye. Oghren was apparently drunk, if the snoring from the floor was any indication, so he apparently had no opinion on the subject.

 Stepping over to Faren, I put my hand on his shoulder and smiled warmly. He returned my smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Sighing, I dragged him over to the two dwarves. I made the introductions, though they all seemed to have some idea who each other was, or obviously at least what caste they were. I’d thought there might be issues with Gorim and other dwarves, or between Oghren and virtually everyone; I hadn’t considered how Faren would be received. I made a big deal about Faren killing the guard, and helping me stay sane in the dungeon, as well as killing Jarvia, and then basically forced the men to shake hands, which in Ferelden meant grasping forearms. All three dwarves scowled at me, but I just gave them my most vapid, pretty smiles, and they all blushed and dropped it.

 Faren finally walked away, stiffly, and I grabbed Bel and Gorim each by the forearm, turning them to face me.

 “Faren is going to be a Grey Warden.” They nodded, so I continued, “He is your brother now, Bel, whether you like it or not, and a damn hero. So I do not want to ever hear him being called ‘Duster’ or ‘Brand’, are we clear? Or you will have to deal with me. Yes?”

 Both avoided my eyes but bobbed their heads in what I chose to accept as a nod. Seeing that the returning party had already cleared out, heading, I assumed for the bathing chambers, Gorim and Bel grabbed Oghren under the arms and dragged him towards the hallway where the baths were. I wasn’t looking forward to a repeat performance of scrubbed, pink, nearly naked dwarf, but he desperately needed a bath. Between alcohol, urine, and darkspawn blood, there was no choice.

 I approached Alistair and he put his arms around me as I burrowed happily into his chest. “In the morning, when we leave our room, you’re going first.”

 “Wha…why?”

 “Never mind. Did Duncan say when we’d be leaving?”

 “As soon as everyone who’s going is awake. I suspect he’ll give us about twelve hours of rest before setting out.”

 “Good.” I went up on tiptoes and reached up to pull Alistair down for a kiss. “Take me to bed, then, serrah.”

 “Your desire is my command,” he replied, making me shiver despite the mischief in his eyes.

 Before I could do anything to stop him, he’d picked me up and jogged down the hallway to our room. I could hear Leliana and Solona laugh behind me as our door slammed shut.

 He made love to me that night like a man possessed; he was insatiable. And I understood – we were about to head into the Deep Roads, and Maker only knew when we’d have the chance to be together again like that. And the Deep Roads themselves were stressful enough a concept, never mind adding in that I could disappear when we were down there. _Not if I have any say…I’m not risking Alistair’s ‘punishment’, if I can help it…_

 In the morning, people filtered out of their rooms one-by-one, and we all met in the main hall. Eventually we were all there, and Duncan had those of us going to the Deep Roads begin packing. We needed food for the entire group for at least a month, by everyone’s best guess, which was not the easiest thing to manage. All of the warriors ended up carrying multiple packs, and the rest of us had our own, lighter though not inconsiderable packs as well. Once we were all ready, we bade those staying behind – Leli, Solona, and Morrigan – goodbye, and headed into the Deep.


	80. Road to Hell

Chapter Eighty: *Road to Hell

 

Fourteen of us waited inside the massive dwarven gates which led to the Deep Roads: Aedan, Alistair, Duncan, Jowan, Anders, Gorim, Bel, Oghren, Faren, Sten, Shale, Zevran, Prince, and, of course, me. For a moment I was a little bit concerned about being trapped with eleven men and only Shale for female company, but quickly realized it was silly. Neither Alistair nor my brother, honorary father, or brother-in-law would allow anything untoward to happen to me; the darkspawn were the threat, not my companions. For all their issues, with the exception of Bel who I didn’t know at all, they were all honourable men.

 Which was a good thing, because the gates, manned by a dwarf on massive winches on either side, were opening. _It’s too late to change my mind._

 A blast of uncomfortably warm, dry air assaulted us the moment the seal was opened, and that answered the question of why we didn’t have tents and many extra clothes in our packs. The smell of sulfur was strong, but there was also an odour of dusty, unpleasant decay that I could have lived without ever experiencing. Even the naturally stoic Sten wrinkled his nose, which was strangely sort of…cute. _You know you’ve been in Thedas too long when the Qunari is ‘cute’._

 The Deep Roads, I had been told, were mostly lit by lava pools and falls, which probably explained the sulfur smell and the warmth, but there were torches lining the corridor in front of me as far as the eye could see, and we each carried a handful of torches ‘just in case’. We knew we’d have to cut through several crosscuts and darkspawn tunnels to get to Bownammar, and some of those may not be well lit. We also carried a couple of the enchanted lanterns we’d stolen from Soldier’s Peak. Jowan and I each carried one, specifically; we were the least effective fighters of the group.

 I couldn’t sense any darkspawn, though the tickling feeling of the other Wardens around me was grating at my nerves. Some of the guys carried their weapons in hand, but I figured that wouldn’t last long. No matter that we knew we were in for several unexpected fights, fatigue would eventually win out. I left my own daggers securely in their sheaths, slung about my waist on a leather belt.

 Gorim and Duncan led the way, and after one, last deep breath, I followed them in the middle of the pack of us. Gorim had painstakingly planned our route through the labyrinth of roads, crosscuts and tunnels on Sereda’s maps, and we would be going from one Legion supply depot to the next as we made our way. I shuddered slightly as I passed from Orzammar, with its wide-open ceiling and warm light into the dim and oppressive tunnel.

 I felt a hand on my shoulder and another grasping mine in sympathy, and I smiled at Aedan and Alistair in turn. Duncan had assigned them as my protection detail, not that he could have stopped either of them from doing it, and they were both taking it seriously, flanking me wherever we went. I didn’t mind; I needed the reassurance.

 Fortunately, once we were past the dwarven door leading out of Orzammar, the ceiling rose a bit again; Sten had to duck through the doorway, but in the Deep Roads proper, he had several feet of clearance. It made the ambiance merely oppressive, instead of completely, stiflingly, panic-worthy. The heat was tolerable, for the moment, but I was sure I’d be wishing for less warm clothing as time went on. And the smell didn’t improve the further we walked. I had to admit, however, that the Deep Roads were an impressive feat of construction.   Only ten feet across at their narrowest, they sometimes as wide as twenty; the ceiling rose far above us at every crossroads. Bridges spanned rivers of lava, and channels encouraged the lava to run parallel to the Roads for a while, keeping the lighting just bright enough to make torches unnecessary.

 The few days we’d had with little activity, compounded by captivity for me and Faren, meant we didn’t get all that far the first day. We encountered a few deepstalkers – roughly the size and annoyance of dragonlings, irritatingly – and after Sten and Shale stomped them all into paste, we continued on. We had full bags – I knew eventually we’d be smoking and eating deepstalker, and I’d had a serious discussion with my stomach and my Warden appetite regarding that, but we didn’t need to resort to that yet, and we didn’t have anywhere to store the meat if we tried. So we continued on until I had to stop. Faren collapsed onto the ground the moment Duncan called a halt, so it wasn’t just me. He’d done far better than we had any right to expect.

 Without tents, we pretty much went to sleep wherever we could manage, after eating some bread and jerky. I slept cuddled to Alistair’s broad back, and I noticed Aedan and Zev doing the same. Bel woke us once with darkspawn nightmares, but otherwise the night passed uneventfully. I dreamt, and they were strange, surreal things, but at least I didn’t scream. With seven Wardens, we only had to take watch every second night, and to my eternal gratitude, I didn’t have one the first night. Alistair did, but he stayed at my side and held me while he watched. I couldn’t claim to have been truly comfortable, sleeping in armour on hard stone, curled up against cold dragonbone plate, but it was as close as I was likely to get for some time.

 When we woke – in the morning, according to the dwarves, though I certainly couldn’t have proved it – we set out again, and I felt better able to keep up with the pace. I worried a bit about Faren, with months of captivity and not yet having Grey Warden stamina, but he seemed to be coping better as well.

 He was talking to Duncan at breakfast, asking about the Joining, and getting the usual, vague, lack of information that was the company line. I grimaced and stuck my tongue out at Duncan, who choked on his dry bread; Faren slapped his back a few times to help him clear his windpipe. I walked away as I heard Duncan explain that we’d actually need to find some darkspawn before we could perform the ceremony.

 Either Duncan or Aedan must have made rules and explained them to the men, about doing their private business in private, and keeping their pants on around me, because I was thrilled not to get an eyeful of male potty functions before we broke camp. I claimed a little area behind some rubble for my own ablutions, and Alistair kept everyone away until I was ready. Peeing just wherever was a bit, well, odd, and somehow sad given the former majesty of the Deep Roads, but there weren’t exactly port-o-potties, so I shrugged and did what I had to do.

 We got going with little fuss. As we walked, I spent a little bit of time trying to get to know Bel, with limited success. He’d barely speak, kept his helmet on most of the time, and I don’t even think he looked at me directly. I finally mumbled my excuses and dropped back, disheartened. I wasn’t even clear if he knew about my unusual situation, and I’d certainly had no chance to explain it.

 Oghren invited himself to take Bel’s place as my walking companion for a while. I guessed that I was going to be annoyed by Oghren, as I’d never really liked drunk people much, but I also felt sorry for him; he was about to discover the hard way that his wife wasn’t at all who he thought she was. And I’d been avoiding him since we entered the Deep Roads because I didn’t want to be the one to tell him.

 “Don’t mind him,” he said, gesturing towards Bel’s back and speaking much too loudly. “He’s got a st-st-stutter, and he doesn’t like to talk. Nothing personal, Toots.”

 I stopped feeling sorry for the red-haired dwarf quite suddenly. “Oghren! That was plain mean, and if you ever call me toots again, I’ll slap you so hard your head ends up facing the wrong way.”

 He belched, and a waft of stale, ale-smelling breath passed by. _At least he smells better than he did, thanks to Mistress Leta...._ “Oh, don’t go getting your smalls in a twist, Toots. I know you women can’t resist me, but I’m a married man, you know.”

 I couldn’t help it; annoyed as I was, I had to laugh. _At least I know who’ll be the comic relief for this trip._ Aedan, behind us, smacked Oghren on the back of the head, followed by some colourful dwarven cursing, and I laughed even harder.

 To my relief, I discovered that Aedan had filled Oghren in about my situation. It made sense – he would have been entirely confused about the commotion surrounding my disappearance, and they’d had no choice but to explain to both Oghren and Bel. That didn’t mean either of them accepted the story, by any means, but at least I was saved having to explain it.

 “So Pretty Boy here tells me you know where Branka’s at.” I strangled a laugh at Oghren’s new nickname for Aedan, and my brother shot me a dirty look. _I wonder what he’ll end up calling everyone else?_ “I’m curious how that happened, I have to admit.”

 “It’s in the game, Oghren.” We’d decided to be honest and tell at least our permanent companions it was a game. _I don’t want a repeat of that accidental reveal, that’s for sure._ “You know what Branka was after: the Anvil of the Void. And you know as well as I do that she’s become obsessed. She went through Caridin’s Cross, then to Ortan Thaig. She found some records or something that told her that the Anvil is in Bownammar. So she’s there, now, trying to navigate Caridin’s traps.”

 “My Branka’s the smartest dwarf in Orzammar. She’d be able to solve any nug-humping puzzles set up by some long-dead Paragon in no time.”

 I sighed. “Caridin isn’t dead. He’s a golem.” I looked down at the ruddy-faced dwarf. “She doesn’t have the manpower, Oghren.” _And she’s not your Branka anymore._ I refrained from voicing that observation aloud. “She lost a lot of people getting to Bownammar. And many in the house weren’t warriors.”

 I hesitated, and Oghren gave me a piercing look. I knew from the game that he wasn’t half as oblivious as he acted, but I was suddenly acutely aware of that under his sharp gaze.

 “By the stone, spit it out! What is it, woman?”

 I wondered what I’d done to make him dislike me. _Was the bath that bad?_ “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this. The traps…they’re lethal, Oghren. If you don’t do them just right. She…” I winced, “ran out of people to use as fodder. She let them all die. All of them that weren’t taken by the ‘spawn. And all that’s left of those is Hespith. And Laryn, technically, I suppose…” I shuddered.

 “Just sodding say whatever you’re dancing around, would you?”

 I stopped, and Oghren’s shouting drew everyone else’s attention as well. I lost my temper. “Do you know what a brood mother is, Oghren?”

 “Pretty boy filled me in when we were in Aeducan Thaig.”

 “Right. Well, Branka…she allowed some of the women in her house – Laryn for sure, and Hespith, but there might have been others – to be taken and turned. She knew about brood mothers. She locked them in and used them to breed unlimited darkspawn to send through the traps, hoping eventually to make it through. Laryn’s already turned; Hespith is halfway there, and mad to boot.”

 “Ancestors’ sodding ass, you’re the one who’s mad. My Branka would never…”

 “Yes she would. If you think about it hard enough, you’ll realise. She’s out of her mind, obsessed, and won’t allow anything to stop her. I think you know she’s capable of it.”

 “You’re a sodding liar, you are. Just because you’re his whore,” he gestured to Alistair, “doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to a sodding thing you say.”

 Alistair and Duncan, who’d been at the front of the group, turned to race in our direction; Aedan, who’d been walking with us, pulled his dagger and had it angled up under Oghren’s chin before I could even blink.

 “You have one chance to rethink your last statement, dwarf, or it’ll be the last statement you ever make.”

 I held my hand up to stop the others, then put it gently on Aedan’s arm, sliding my fingers up to grip the knife and pull it back from where it had just barely pierced Oghren’s flesh. “Aedan. Stop. It’s okay. He’s upset, and understandably so. Let it go.”  
“Let it go? He called you a whore.”

 “And how many that we’ve met have said – or thought – worse? It’s not worth it. It’s okay.”

 “Don’t do me any favours, whore. I can take this nug-humping-“

 “Oghren. _Shut. Up_!” I was exasperated.

 Aedan growled, “You want me to just let this little cretin-“

 “Aedan.” My tone had gone hard and unrelenting. I tried to soften it. “You don’t know him like I do. Please.” I tugged at his hand, still holding the blade. “Please.”

 He searched my face for a moment, for what I couldn’t say, but finally nodded and withdrew his hand, sticky with Oghren’s blood. “I’m watching you, dwarf. One word, a single one, and we will pick up where I left off.”

 Oghren slapped his hand to his neck, glaring daggers at me, Aedan, and anyone else whose eye he caught. I motioned for Anders to heal him, but the dwarf stomped off, muttering under his breath, before he had the chance. With an apologetic glance my way, Gorim went after him. Aedan wiped his hands on a rag, as Alistair walked up and wrapped his arms around my shaking frame, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

 “You okay?”

 “I’m fine. I don’t blame him. I just told him his wife’s a monster. How would you feel?”

 “I still want to kick his ass,” Aedan grumbled.

 I laughed. “Oh, me too. But I’ll just leave him alone for a while. Once we get to Bownammar, he’ll understand.”

 Alistair kissed me, softly, then leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Every time I look away from you for five seconds you get into trouble.”

 I chuckled, then threaded my gauntleted fingers through his, and gestured to the group to get moving.

 Shale lumbered up beside me as we got underway. “Does It wish me to squish the drunken dwarf? Because I could. Easily.”

 “Thanks, Shale, but I’ll be fine.”

 “As It wishes, then.” And she rumbled away to walk beside Sten, silently. _It’s really weird how well those two get along._

 We encountered our first group of darkspawn after ducking into a side tunnel that led away from the main road we’d been following. Gorim’s map showed a cave-in between us and the intersection we wanted, and the Legion had dug out a short-cut to avoid the unstable area. We lit our torches and unsheathed the arcane lamps as we entered the dark aperture.

 Apparently the darkspawn had found it and started digging; there was a large, irregular cavern where there should only have been a narrow tunnel, and it was full of darkspawn. Fortunately, they had started fires, so visibility wasn’t a problem; unfortunately, I couldn’t see what they were burning, but I had to guess it was a corpse, based on the sickening smell of the haze permeating the air in the tunnel.

 We sensed the darkspawn long before entering the larger room, and organised accordingly. Shale ripped a chunk of rock out of the side wall of the tunnel, prepared to throw; the sword-and-shield warriors closed ranks and held up their shields to provide maximum cover, and everyone else readied weapons. We advanced as a group, the mages at the rear, and immediately drew fire from a couple of archers at the back of the room. I couldn’t sense any magic that didn’t belong to Jowan or Anders, and I told the rest of the group there was no Emissary.

 Once the initial volley of arrows had struck and Shale had launched her projectile into a group of hurlocks, the shield wall advanced, and Duncan, Aedan, Zevran, Faren, Sten and I slipped around the edges to enter the fight. I skirted the edge of the cavern, keeping out of the way of stray arrows or magic, as the others flanked the first wave of hurlocks to attack the shielded warriors. My goal was the archers. Not seeing me coming meant I was the best option to cross the room efficiently and take out their long-range capabilities.

 And it worked; I paid slight attention to the melee, almost laughing once as an arrow pierced the back of a hurlock’s neck by mistake, but the group was faring well. I scrambled over some rubble to walk up behind a genlock, reach around before he knew I was there, and slit his throat from ear to ear. It wasn’t easy; no matter how sharp weapons are, it actually takes more pressure than I’d have expected to get deep enough to sever the artery, but I had experience and it worked the first time. The corpse dropped at my feet, thick black blood pooling underneath, and I edged further along to the next one.

 By the time I’d taken out the four archers, the group had massacred the rest of the darkspawn. Zevran and Aedan began looting the bodies – laughing at me when I called it that – while everyone else wiped darkspawn blood off their weapons. Alistair came up to me and kissed me fiercely, but said nothing. _Smart boy._

 I had to admit I didn’t enjoy the long, slightly winding, narrow tunnel we had to creep through, but I fared better than Shale or Sten. The Legion had made the tunnel large, by dwarven proportions, which meant it was between five and six feet tall, depending; I fit fine, and Zev had no issues, but all the other humans had to duck at times, and Shale scraped the walls and ceiling as she walked, sometimes striking sparks. Sten crouched as well, a string of curses like “Vashedan”, which periodically made me giggle, earning myself a disapproving glare from the giant.

 I was grateful enough when we reached a main branch of the Deep Roads to admit that I was claustrophobic. _Just a little bit._ We extinguished our torches, packing them away, and took a minute while Gorim and Duncan debated markings on the map. Once they picked a direction, we headed off again.

 We stopped at a small Legion of the Dead way station that Gorim had identified. It was nice: there were sinks, of a sort, with runes like those in the estate in Orzammar, small alcoves for privacy with a few sleeping cots, and even a stone door that could be closed and barred. We still set a watch rotation, but we felt protected for the first time in two days. We took turns cleaning up, and decided as a group to sleep without armour, for once. Exhausted after a long day of fighting, the Grey Wardens, Faren, and I met at the back of the cavern. Faren had collected his darkspawn blood from one of the hurlocks we’d fought, and Duncan had Anders prepare the Joining potion.

 Faren grimaced, upon glimpsing the chalice, but didn’t look surprised. I shook my head ruefully when Duncan glanced at me. _It’s not like the use for the blood is rocket science. What else would you be doing with a potion vial full of blood?_ Duncan explained that the blood was the source of the Grey Wardens’ strength, and then, to my dismay, asked Bel, who’d not spoken the entire day, to recite the words.

 The stutter was highly unfortunate, I reflected listening to Bel try to get through the words “Join us, brother,” and without discussing it, everyone else began reciting with him. I was surprised to see that once his voice was no longer the loudest, his stutter improved dramatically. _Clearly, anxiety makes it worse._

 I contemplated that as Faren drank the potion; I was the only one not nervous. I knew any Brosca would survive. Alistair caught the dwarf as he fell back, his eyes rolled up into his head, and laid him gently down on the nearest cot. He was breathing, and everyone took a deep breath of relief.

 Jowan offered to pull a cot nearby and stay close, in case he needed anything when he awoke, and the rest of us scattered to our own alcoves to get some rest.

 There weren’t enough cots for everyone, and seeing as Alistair and I wouldn’t have been able to share one anyway, we opted for the floor. We made a little nest of blankets to sleep on; the air was warm, heated by the lava as it was, so we didn’t need to keep any blankets out for cover. We had chosen an alcove as far away from the rest as possible, and as Alistair sprawled out beside me in just his thin linen sleeping pants, I was glad all over again.

 I happily gave in to his passionate kiss; I didn’t think we’d have any opportunity to be together in the Deep Roads, but as long as we were quiet, we could get away with it easily. Alistair’s mouth on my neck was insistent as the kissing grew more heated, and I tangled my fingers in his somewhat shaggy sandy-blond hair, trying to stifle a moan of desire. His hands roamed my torso, stopping to torment my breasts periodically, before skipping away, making me squirm. Impatient, I pulled up the thin shift I wore for sleeping and struggled to tug it off, dropping it beside us absently.

 I lay, sandwiched between Alistair and the wall of the alcove, and bit my knuckle as he proceeded to shower my breasts with attention. The bruising had mostly disappeared with the healing potion I’d taken before we left, but certain spots still made my skin sing with remembered pleasure and pain when he licked and kissed them. I hissed and dragged his mouth to one aching, diamond-hard nipple by the hair, and he chuckled under his breath even as he engulfed the little pebble with his lips. He switched sides, teasing me, and I writhed silently beneath him.

 At my urging, he finally rid himself of his trousers, and gasped as I took his hard length in my hand. It felt good, knowing the arousal was for me; powerful, somehow, and I stroked the shaft a few times in appreciation before Alistair pushed my hands away.

 He slid between my thighs and sheathed himself inside me like we’d done it hundreds of times before; he was perfect, his width stretching me deliciously, avoiding bumping my cervix, and I groaned and humped my hips uselessly at him when he just held still deep inside me. When he finally started to move, the relief was palpable; my arousal climbed rapidly, and I covered my mouth to stifle any noise when I came, the pleasure and relief of being with him and knowing all was right in the world almost overwhelming my embarrassed need to remain quiet. Alistair captured my lips with his own to muffle his own grunt of completion, and then we both collapsed, boneless, in our nest.

 We kissed and caressed, sweetly, not sexually, and prolonged our post-coital bliss a while longer, but eventually the certainty that someone was going to come around looking – and that someone, more likely than not, being Oghren, knowing my luck – spurred me to sit up and retrieve my shift. Alistair wriggled into his trousers, and then spooned behind me, shielding me from our companions as we fell deeply asleep.

 Aedan woke me for my watch with a gentle hand on my arm; I crawled, reluctantly, out of the cocoon of Alistair’s protection and trudged over to sit near the stone door, exchanging nods with Shale and Sten. With nothing else to do, I marvelled at the amazing stone architecture of the Deep Roads. Even this insignificant chamber had lava channels near the front, for light and heat, but far enough away that the back alcoves were in deep shadow. If it had a window or a skylight it would have been more comfortable than anywhere we’d stayed to date, except the Pearl and Redcliffe’s castle.

 Sadly, according to Gorim, the further away from Orzammar we travelled, the more rudimentary the Legion’s supply depots were. Near the front they’d have a barracks of sorts, but this was likely to be the last relative safety we would encounter.

 I had never learned how to keep track of time without a clock of some variety, and I’d left my phone with Leli, so after a while I was grateful when Bel approached for his watch.

 “’Morning,” I greeted him, my voice hoarse with disuse.

 He nodded, but remained silent. _At least he’s not wearing his helmet._

 “Look, I hope you can just ignore Oghren. He’s an ass, at times, but it isn’t personal. Don’t let him get you down.”

 He nodded again.

 “Are you that embarrassed by the stutter? I promise you, I won’t make fun of you. I had a friend in school with a stutter; lucky for her, we had a teacher with some training in speech. She managed to learn how not to stutter. But I’d never tease someone over something they have so little control over.”

 “It’s w-worse when I-I’m nervous,” he responded. His voice was deep and pleasant, if you ignored the hesitancy and the stutter.

 “Why are you nervous? We seem to be quite safe here.” I shifted around, double-checking the cavern and the door for security issues I’d overlooked.

 “That’s n-not why.” He appeared to be blushing, though it could have been a trick of the light.

 “Is it me? I promised I wouldn’t tease. I’m no bully.”

 “N-n-no. I do- I do- I d-don’t me-meet many wo-wo-women!”

 “Oh! I’m sorry, Bel. If it’s any consolation, I don’t bite.”

 He chuckled at that, and I smiled.

 “Y-you said your fr-friend learned to st-st-stop?”

 “Oh! I should have thought of that. Bel, I know how. I was there when she learned. It takes a while, but it’s manageable. Would you like me to try to teach you? It would be good experience for getting used to talking to other girls, too.” I winked at him, and though he blushed scarlet, he smiled and nodded.

 “Alright. The first part…well, it would be easier if Leliana were here, but here goes. Do you know how to sing?”

 I spent probably an hour teaching Bel rudimentary scales. His deep baritone was quite lovely when he hummed along to the lesson; he had at least a passable ear. And I’d managed to get him to sing, just once, the words to go along with the notes: do, re, me, fa, so, la, ti, do. To his shock, and my delight, he didn’t stutter. Which was the point: it’s virtually impossible to stutter while singing.

 I left the lesson there; if my experience was anything to go by, I’d have to get him singing entire songs before I could talk him into trying to sing his sentences instead of speaking them. My friend had been totally embarrassed at first, and it took a long time to gain confidence. I hoped that dwarves didn’t have any sort of stigma against singing in public, and that I could recruit Leli to help once we got back to Orzammar, but I thought I had a chance at getting him stutter-free before the blight was over.

 I went back to bed, snuggling in to a drowsy Alistair with a brief kiss on the forehead, and fell asleep listening to soft, deep humming.

 


	81. Descent

Chapter Eighty-One: Descent

 I dreamt about the movie “The Sound of Music,” not a surprise given what I’d been doing when I fell asleep, but I woke to something considerably less pleasant: panicked screaming.

 Alistair and I were on our feet in a mere second, both of us grabbing our weapons as we rose, but then stopped in confusion when we looked around the cavern and saw no cause for alarm. Others had peeked out of their alcoves as well, and we all exchanged puzzled glances. I thought about the voice I’d heard, trying to determine whose it could have been, when it happened again, and then I relaxed as I realised what it was. Duncan, and I’d have bet my last sovereign he had finally fallen asleep.

 I patted Alistair’s arm to stop him when he looked like he was going to go in to Duncan’s alcove. I handed Alistair my daggers and sent him reluctantly back to bed, and I tiptoed over to where Duncan slept.

 He was twisted up in the blankets, muscles taut, his skin slick with sweat; his hair, which he’d started growing again, was a wild mop, and his face was scrunched up in a look of abject horror. He wore a tunic and trousers, both of which were damp with sweat.

 I gently peeled back the blankets without touching him, untangling his limbs, which relaxed him somewhat, then leaned over to whisper softly. I couldn’t say what I murmured, but it didn’t matter; the tone was what was important. After years of dealing with the nightmares of my younger foster-siblings, I knew that if I startled him and he woke, it wouldn’t end well. He’d likely wake in a panic, assuming I was a hurlock or something. So I kept murmuring until he slumped back onto the bed and his face went slack before I attempted to wake him. Once I was convinced he wouldn’t be violent, I knelt down beside his cot and gently stroked his cheek.

 He opened his eyes, which I hadn’t noticed before were blood-shot and almost hazy, like an elderly person with cataracts. Rheumy. I knew he hadn’t been sleeping much, but hadn’t realised how bad things must have gotten. He smiled at me, then frowned as he noticed his bedraggled state.

 “Good morning.”

 He struggled to sit up, and I offered him my hand. His confused expression cleared as the remnants of sleep faded, and he rubbed at his face ruefully. “I hadn’t meant to sleep.”

 “How long, Duncan?”

 He looked at me, and taking in my serious expression, sighed. “I take it I was screaming in my sleep?” I nodded. “I don’t know.”

 “Duncan…”

 “No, honestly. The taint takes everyone differently. I have seen Wardens who had the nightmares for years before they couldn’t put off their Calling any longer, and others who denied having the dreams even as their skin blackened. It’s variable. But if I had to guess…”

 He trailed off for a moment, and when he continued it was a whisper. “A few months, six at the most.” He gave me a searching gaze. “This Blight needs to end soon.”

 I nodded, and leaned forward to wrap him in a hug. He chuckled as he returned it.

 “Be careful, young lady, or I won’t survive to see the Archdemon – Alistair will kill me first.”

 I grinned and hugged him tighter. “A little jealousy is good for him.” I released him, my serious expression returning. “You know we both see you as the father we never had.”

 He nodded, smiling ruefully. “Neither Bryce nor Maric would appreciate that description, I suspect.”

 “Probably true. Doesn’t change anything, though. I do not want to see your time here end, but I want to see you suffer even less. For your sake, I hope the Blight will be over soon. Would you permit me to ask Anders if he knows anything to combat nightmares? You need to sleep sometimes, Duncan.”

 He sighed, rubbing his face again, then finally nodded. “I’ll come.”

 Anders, unsurprisingly, knew quite a bit about nightmares and other sleep problems, and promised to make a potion to allow Duncan to sleep deeply without dreaming. We had purchased supplies for healing potions and poultices before we left Orzammar, so apparently Anders had the ingredients he needed.

 Since everyone was awake, we all readied ourselves and ate a standing breakfast of biscuit and jerky. We set out as soon as everyone was packed up. I was sorry to see the little supply depot go; it had been nice, compared to what I’d expected.

 We walked through darkspawn tunnels, dwarven-made crosscuts, and Deep Roads, heading further and further from Orzammar. We came across a few, isolated groups of darkspawn, which we managed easily. The darkspawn were never far away, and the tingling sensation that indicated their presence was constant and irritating, until I learned to ignore it. Duncan was experienced enough to determine distance and intentions much more accurately, and the rest of us had to rely on his warnings.

 I’d explained what I remembered about the crosscut drifters from the game, just to pass the time, and at least the dwarves were interested. Except for Oghren, who refused to make eye contact, never mind actually admit to be listening.

 Each evening, I worked with Bel on quietly learning to sing. He wasn’t bad, by my amateur assessment, and continued to be amazed that he didn’t stutter. I started him with simple children’s songs, like the alphabet and ‘Row, row, row your boat’, moving on to songs with more complex speech patterns as we went. Neither of us were keen to be overheard, and everyone seemed to get the point, leaving us alone.

 Oghren drank as much as advertised, at least if his own off-key singing was anything to go by. After the first couple of fights, when it became obvious that he could hold his own even when sloshed, everyone left him alone. He and Zevran had taken to needling each other with dwarf and elf jokes, and I almost choked when Anders suggested they stop dancing around the issue and just get to work on a baby dwelf. Aedan pointedly ignored the dwarf, and I was sure Zevran was going to be told off later for fraternizing with the enemy; neither Aedan nor Alistair left my side at all for two days.

 The next few nights had us sleeping in the open, as we would have had to go half a day out of our way to get to the next supply depot. It was harder to sleep, and oppressive; even the dwarves seemed to get quieter and more morose. The darkspawn dreams were worse as well; Duncan slept better, thanks to Anders, but the rest of us woke in sweats more than occasionally.

 I missed Alistair; he was by my side, but lack of privacy and the need to remain in armour removed any possibility of intimacy. Even a hug was virtually impossible; I ended up crushed against plate, with his gauntlets digging in. It was depressing. It bothered him, too; periodically at camp he’d drag me around a corner to drop a heated kiss on me, mouth taking mine with wild abandon, before burying his nose in my hair. But we didn’t have long before someone at camp would notice our absence, so a few stolen moments were all we had.

 Sleeping was strange; I planned to sleep by Alistair, but after the first couple of nights, woke to find Aedan beside me as well. At first I thought it was due to overprotectiveness on Aedan’s part, but I soon realised everyone was moving closer and closer to the group each night, until a week in, we were practically sleeping in one gigantic puppy pile. I was always sandwiched between Alistair on one side, and either Aedan or Duncan on the other, and everyone else was within an arm’s reach. Even Shale had taken to standing nearby. No one wanted to be alone, even for a moment, in the Deep Roads.

 I asked Shale, once, why she never sat; she demonstrated, rather pointedly, by using her rear end to crack a boulder left out in the open by the crosscut miners. I giggled, and could have sworn she smirked. It was one of very few laughs I had while trudging through those forsaken passages. I clung to Alistair’s hand as much as possible, and often Aedan’s as well; I needed the contact, or I thought I’d go mad.

 Anders seemed to be struggling with being enclosed in the Deep Roads. Not that that surprised me – I recalled his objections to it from Awakenings and DA2 – but his haggard expression almost rivalled Duncan’s. I was worried. I tried to talk to him about it, get him to think about something, anything else, but even teasing him about Solona could barely get him to crack a smile. Jowan was by his side almost constantly; the blood mage barely spoke to anyone else unless spoken to, but he faithfully stayed with Anders, for which I was grateful.

 The one thing I did manage to get Anders talking about, once, was Solona. He told me he’d left her a letter, like I had suggested weeks before on the road to Orzammar. He didn’t tell her what had happened in the tower, just begged her for one chance to talk, to try to explain. I hoped she’d give it to him. And I thought his hope that she might was possibly the only thing that kept him going.

 About a week after we’d left Orzammar, when we were attacked by a bunch of deepstalkers, we took a couple of hours to skin, gut, and roast one of them to replenish our stores. The two mages took turns using spells to keep the rocks underneath scalding hot; it was a good thing, because the only thing we had to burn was ancient refuse, most of which had been tainted. I had my first taste of deepstalker; it was sort of chewy, but thankfully without much flavour. I missed Leli, for about the hundredth time; she might have been able to make something actually not-objectionable from the meat.

 Gorim estimated that we were three to four days from the Dead Trenches, where we hoped to catch up to Kardol and the Legion of the Dead. We’d seen no sign of Sereda, not that we’d have recognised it if we had, so we had to hope she was with the Legion. Because we were taking the most direct route to our destination, we hadn’t come across any Legion patrols, who always travelled from one supply depot to the next so they could travel safely in small groups.

 The closer we got to the Dead Trenches, the more overwhelming the sensation of darkspawn got. Duncan assured us that we weren’t going to be ambushed, but all of the Wardens got jumpier and jumpier as we approached. The last night, practically on the edge of the Trench, I don’t think anyone got more than a couple of hours of restless sleep.

 We woke to a darkspawn ambush, but no one was surprised, or even asleep. There was an Emissary, the first we’d seen in the Deep Roads. I used its mana to shield my companions, and Alistair decapitated it with his long sword. Once the group, which included several hurlocks and a handful of shrieks, was dealt with, we all slumped down by our bedrolls, disheartened. It was difficult keeping up morale, and the claustrophobia seemed to be getting worse with time.

 “Well, there goes any hope that the Archdemon didn’t know of our presence.” Duncan flopped down beside Alistair, exchanging grim frowns. “You’re sure it won’t attack us the moment we near the trench, Sierra?”

 “It didn’t in the game, but as we’ve seen, that doesn’t guarantee anything. I’d say a healthy dose of caution is warranted.”

 Duncan sighed. “I’m going to go ahead, alone. I fear the Archdemon will be drawn to my advanced taint, being so close to my Calling. If nothing happens, I will find the Legion of the Dead and await you there. I want you to wait here at least a couple of hours before following me.”

 Alistair jumped up, running his hands through his now-shaggy blond hair. “Duncan, no. You can’t do this. We need you with us.” He paced, expression pained. “I can’t do this without you.”

 Duncan rose slowly, reaching out to grab Alistair’s shoulders. “You can. Aedan can lead you, if you insist, but I know you can do this, Alistair. You two can end the Blight, and you have help, now. I won’t risk all of you. Ferelden – Thedas – needs you. And if I’m wrong, and the Archdemon doesn’t attack, I’ll see you on the other side.”

 Alistair’s eyes were suspiciously moist, but he nodded once. “Maker watch over you, Duncan.”

 Duncan pulled him into a brief hug, then turned, kissed my forehead, gathered his things, and walked off. Alistair’s shoulders slumped, and I pressed myself against his chest, getting as close as I could with both of us in armour.

 “He’ll be okay. I got the impression the Archdemon was taunting us, in game. It could have roasted us, but it wanted to play with us first. I’m sure this will be no different.”

 Just then, Aedan walked up, wiping his sword with a rag. “Where’d Duncan go? Suddenly have a shy bladder?”

 I cringed. “Um…he’s going to scout ahead. He said to wait two hours, and then follow him.”

 Aedan narrowed his eyes. “Scouting.” I nodded. “Alone, while having the strongest taint to attract every darkspawn around.” I nodded again, refusing to make eye contact. “What aren’t you telling me?”

 I sighed. “The Archdemon is up there, somewhere. Duncan’s afraid it will sense him and try to kill him because his taint is too strong. He doesn’t want us travelling all together so that it doesn’t take us all out in one fell swoop.”

 Alistair grinned weakly. “Because swooping is bad.”

 Aedan growled. “Nice. No good-bye’s, he just left?”

 “I suspect he was trying to avoid drama.”

 “Trying to avoid someone stopping him, you mean.”

 “That too.”

 I hugged Aedan – easier in his leathers than hugging Alistair in his dragonbone – until his shoulders relaxed and he returned the hug. With a brief, grim smile, he turned back to the group to inform them of the delay. It was a noticeable change: around Duncan, Aedan tried not to take the lead too much. He wasn’t shy about expressing his opinions, but he took orders just like everybody else. But his natural skills came back with a vengeance when required. It was interesting. No one disputed his leadership, and I smiled with pride.

 The two-hour wait until we could head out was sort of painful. We all sat huddled together, trying not to imagine what was happening to Duncan. We had to rely on the dwarves’ stone sense to tell the time, and I thought Gorim might punch Aedan after about the twentieth time he’d asked if it was two hours yet.

 When we finally got moving, it was hard not to sprint down the corridors in the direction Duncan had gone. We purposefully tried to keep to our normal pace, but I was looking around every corner, fearing finding a still-warm corpse. We did find a few recently deceased darkspawn, but for the first couple of hours, that was all.

 We came to the edge of the dead trenches, just as it was depicted in game. There was a massive chasm, deep enough that we couldn’t see the bottom, with lava falls lighting the way down into the darkness and mist. It looked like the descent into hell. At several levels there were bridges criss-crossing the chasm, leading into tunnels on either side that were dark and mysterious; there was one visible road, twenty feet wide, running lengthwise off into the distance. It was perhaps a couple hundred feet below us, and it was covered in darkspawn. The entire horde was there, marching.

 The smell of decay, and taint, and general wrong-ness was seeping up the walls of the chasm, and I choked at the intensity. We’d all become accustomed to the smell of the Deep Roads, but this was much, much worse. And it was hot; I guessed that at the bottom of the trench, it must have been pure molten lava.

 We didn’t see the Archdemon, and I wondered if the game had gotten it wrong, or if Duncan had thrown things off. We stared, horrified, at the horde below for several long minutes; for each of us, the importance of our mission to end the Blight was brought home in a very visceral fashion. I briefly wished I’d brought my phone into the Deep Roads to take a picture for Solona and the others we had left behind.

 Finally, shaken, Aedan pulled us away from the edge, encouraging us to move on. No one talked, everyone lost in their own, dark thoughts. I was so distracted that I almost didn’t notice the subtle feeling in my head, like I was being watched. I closed my eyes, stopping for a moment, and then opened them to look at Alistair.

 “Do you feel that?”

 Startled by my sudden stop, Alistair thought for a moment before meeting my gaze.

 “Duncan!”

 I nodded, and without another word, both of us headed off, down a narrow corridor in the direction that I could feel Duncan’s taint. Aedan and the rest of the group followed us. As we hurried, the feeling intensified. Darkspawn. Without discussing it, the Grey Wardens and I began unsheathing weapons, and the rest followed suit.

 Finally, after an eternity of winding tunnel, we opened into a large natural cavern. Duncan was standing in the middle, swords out, turning in a slow circle; a group of probably twenty darkspawn, including one Emissary and one ogre, stood around him, completely hemming him in. They didn’t appear aggressive, however, and we all paused at the edge of the cavern to watch in shock. The Emissary spoke, its voice too quiet for us to hear, and Duncan visibly flinched; that was all we needed.

 I felt Alistair reach out and smite the Emissary, and it staggered to its knees; the rest of the darkspawn spun and headed in our direction.

 Before they made it far, Jowan and Anders began chanting in unison, and the hairs on my arms stood on end as I felt their magic flare. Suddenly there was lightning arcing through the expanse of cavern between us and Duncan, and thunder boomed; ice bloomed and rained from the ceiling. _Storm of the Century._ The genlocks were the first to fall, the hurlocks next; the only darkspawn to make it through the storm was the ogre, and it was covered in frostbite, its skin blistering where it wasn’t already peeling. Oghren let out an incoherent shout, leaping an impressive distance to bury the head of his axe in the ogre’s chest, and riding it down as it collapsed.

 The storm dissipated as fast as it had come, and I stared, open-mouthed in shock at the carnage. I remembered using the combination in game, though rarely – you couldn’t control where it would strike, and if you weren’t lucky, it would take your allies down just as fast as it did your enemies. But the bodies didn’t persist in game like they did in the real world, and the charred, smoking corpses mixed with creepy ice statues were a level of disgusting I’d never imagined.

 I looked up in time to see Duncan behead the still-stunned Emissary. Picking our way carefully across the field of gore, Alistair, Aedan and I approached Duncan while everyone else stayed back to congratulate Anders and Jowan. Duncan stood, still holding his weapons, his posture defensive, and I wondered if there were more darkspawn around that I couldn’t feel. I extended my senses, and found only Grey Wardens.

 As we got within a dozen yards of the senior Grey Warden, he spun to face us, weapons raised.

 “Be gone, foul creatures! I will not listen to your lies!”

 The three of us stopped, exchanging confused glances. Aedan took a cautious step forward. “Duncan? They’re all dead now. It’s okay.”

 “I can feel your corruption! I will not turn! I will not listen. Get out!” He took a wild swing with his sword at Aedan, who jumped out of the way with alacrity.

 “Duncan! It’s Aedan. What are you doing?” Alistair was the next to step forward and be swung at; the sword clanged uselessly against his shield, then again. Duncan was clearly out of his mind; if he’d been himself, he’d have been much deadlier in his attacks.

 We exchanged looks again, and then I tried – without stepping any closer. “Duncan? It’s me, Sierra. What happened here?”

 Duncan blinked, unfocused gaze slowly travelling over to my face. “Sierra? Sierra, run. The darkspawn. You must get away!” He stepped quickly to stand between me and the other men, his back to me, holding his swords up defensively. Aedan and Alistair stepped back again out of range; each step seemed to lower his visible anxiety.

 I whispered, “Go back. Over there. Let me talk to him.”

 Alistair shook his head. “I’m not leaving you here; he’s clearly deranged.”

 “I know, but I think he’s sensing the taint in you, and it’s confusing him. He thinks you’re darkspawn. Just…let me try, okay?”

 Reluctantly, without breaking his gaze, Alistair stepped backwards, guided by Aedan. When they were across the cavern, Duncan finally seemed to relax, turning back to me.

 “How did you get here, Sierra? Where are the others?”

 “They’re just…just over there a ways. What happened, Duncan?” I approached slowly, carefully, reaching out to put my hands on his shoulders.

 “I…the…I don’t know. The Archdemon, and then…” He stopped and clutched at his head, swords dropping to the ground at his feet. “It was in my head. So beautiful, but so wrong. Talking, singing, crooning to me. I couldn’t block it out, couldn’t make it stop.” The cadence of his speech was odd, unlike his usual formal tone. He ran a ragged hand through his wild hair, hard enough to pull out several strands. I reached up to take his hands in mine.

 “It’s okay. It’s over now. You’re safe. Can you still hear it?”

 “It wants me. It wants me to join them, to lead. I won’t do it! I won’t listen!” His voice rose in pitch and volume as he spoke, and Alistair took an involuntary step back towards us.

 I lifted my hand, gesturing him back, then gently pulled Duncan by the hand over to the wall in the back of the cavern. I took off my pack, digging through it until I found what I was looking for. I slid down the wall, encouraging Duncan to sit beside me, handing him the flask I held.

 “You must be tired. Here. Drink.” Anders’ sleeping potion was tilted back and swallowed; Duncan gazed trustingly at me, like a child might look at his mother. “I’ll sit on watch. You’re safe. Why don’t you put your head down?” I put my hand on his shoulder, pulling gently until Duncan lay with his head in my lap. I took off my gloves and stroked his messy hair, pulling sweat-slicked strands off his forehead, rubbing his scalp softly. “That’s right. Just sleep.”

 It took a few minutes, but soon his soft snores could be heard, and I gently shifted until his head rested on my pack and I was freed. I climbed quietly to my feet and headed over towards the others.

 I answered everyone’s unspoken question as soon as I had Alistair’s hand firmly in mine. “The Archdemon did something to him. It sounds like it tried to recruit him. He’s fighting it, but he can hear them now.” I frowned, feeling dirt flake off my face as I did. “I think those darkspawn were trying to get him to go with them. I don’t think they were going to attack him. He managed to refuse, but then when he felt your taint, he thought you were more of them. He couldn’t sense me, so it didn’t confuse him as much.”

 “Are you saying, Bellissima, that our fearless Commander is becoming a darkspawn?”

 The Antivan voice made me wince; I’d just spilled secrets in front of multiple non-Wardens. _Stupid, Sierra. Duncan will have your head for that when he…if he…_ I stopped that line of thought before I could carry it too far.

 I looked at Aedan and Alistair, who sighed and nodded. I took a deep breath. “Not exactly. But Wardens do have a connection to the horde and the Archdemon, and it gets worse the older they get. If they wait too long, they go mad and become much like ghouls. Look, you’re not supposed to know this, okay? I will deny ever having said it, if any of you admit to knowing it.” I looked between Zev, Oghren, Sten, Shale, and Gorim, waiting until I got a nod of understanding from each.

 “Braska!” Zev swore, turning to pace, shooting Aedan an agonised look. “How long?”

 “Fifty years, give or take.”

 “But surely…Duncan is not that old? He should have years…” Gorim looked confused.

 “I…we…Avernus improved it. It used to be thirty years. But the improvements don’t work on those so far gone. Duncan’s been a Grey Warden for almost thirty years.” I trailed off, feeling guilty, like I’d somehow violated his privacy. _Screw the Grey Warden secrets! I don’t owe them anything._

 “Where is he now?” Anders asked.

 “Sleeping. I gave him one of your potions. He should be out for a few hours.”

 “I want to check him over, if I can. Can I accompany you over there? I’ll back off if he wakes or gets agitated.”

 I nodded and followed Anders back over the carnage. “Nice spell, by the way. I didn’t know you guys knew the Storm of the Century.”

 Anders grinned. “I like ice. And Jowan’s pretty good with lightning…we’ve been discussing it for a bit, wondering if we could make it work. Neither of us had ever actually seen it.”

 I smiled back, then stumbled, forcing myself to watch where I was stepping. “Messy, though.”

 He chuckled under his breath, awkwardly stepping around a genlock corpse. “Yeah.”

 We reached Duncan without him appearing to stir; I felt Anders’ aura flare as he ran blue, glowy light from Duncan’s head down through his body. It took a while, and I was practically bouncing with impatience.

 “So? What’s the verdict?” I looked over to see Anders looking quite grey and pale. “Anders?”

 He shook his head, some of his colour returning. “He’s fine. Uninjured, as far as I can tell. But the taint…I had no idea it could progress like that. Andraste’s flaming knickerweasels, that’s depressing.”

 I flinched. “Sorry. If it’s any consolation, it’ll take a lot longer to happen for you.” _Us._ “And the effects won’t be as bad, on things like the reproductive system.”

 “So that’s a recent change?”

 I nodded. “Just before we sprang you from the Circle. There’s an ancient Grey Warden blood mage who’s been doing…distasteful…research for two centuries, using blood magic to keep himself alive. He found ways to slow the taint, and to alter the unfortunate side effects, like infertility. Morrigan helped.”

 “I’m selfishly glad.” He took a shaky breath. “Maker, I don’t know what to do about this, though. He doesn’t have any of the usual signs of madness…I can’t fix this, can’t even start to ameliorate the symptoms.”

 “Do you mean he’s going to stay this confused?”

 “I just don’t know.”

 I sighed. “I’ll stay with him. I know him better than most here, and I’m not tainted. Would you tell the others to make camp nearby? We’ll have to wait until he wakes, and hope for the best.”


	82. Confusion and Revelation

Chapter Eighty-Two: Confusion and Revelation

 

I sat near the sleeping Duncan and waited, waited and sat. It was really, incredibly, boring. I had nothing to do, and we didn’t want to risk any of the other Wardens being too close when Duncan woke, so I sat mostly alone. Sten and Gorim wandered over to sit for a while, no doubt at Aedan’s or Alistair’s urging, but making small talk when everyone was clearly stressed and scared was awkward, and talking to Sten was always a bit frustrating, so it didn’t really help. After a few minutes, when it became clear that they weren’t improving the situation, they both went back to the group, leaving me alone again. Zev and Prince stayed with me a while, just sitting in companionable silence. Somehow I didn’t feel the need to chat with Zev, to fill the silence; after all the times he'd followed me on Aedan's orders, I was used to sharing silence with him, and it was comforting just to have him there.

 I contemplated the feeling of oppression that I couldn’t shake, which had only worsened the further into the Deep Roads we’d travelled. The constant pressure of the darkspawn in the back of my head had become a deep ache, and I wondered if I’d ever feel clean again. I’d tried to keep my spirits up as we walked, but with Duncan obviously ill or damaged by the Archdemon, and no end to our time in the Deep in sight, it was becoming unbearable.

 I sank down into fetal position beside Duncan, one hand gripping Prince’s stiff fur, the other clinging to Zev’s hand, and just concentrated on breathing.

 Finally, after what felt like days, but was probably only four hours, Duncan stirred. Zev headed back to camp; Prince stayed and watched Duncan warily. I was by Duncan’s side in a moment, squeezing his hand and murmuring reassuring nonsense while his mind cleared itself of its drug-induced sleep. His eyes were less hazy, when he looked up at me, and I could see that he wasn’t as confused as he’d been. I helped him sit up, and then settled myself beside him.

 “Did all that really happen, then?”

 I nodded, and he sighed, rubbing his face and then running his fingers through his hair.

 “Tell me I didn’t actually attack Aedan and Alistair?”

 “It’s okay. It wasn’t you. The Archdemon…”

 “It doesn’t matter why. The fact remains, I’m a danger to this mission. To the other Wardens.”

 He climbed to his feet before I could respond, clearly frustrated and scared. _As are we, Duncan._ I took his offered hand and stood myself. He reached down and pulled one of my daggers from the sheath, handing it to me pommel first.

 “Will you stay close, and keep this ready? If I show any signs of attacking the others, use it. Promise me?”

 I flinched, staring at the blade in dismay. _Could I do it? Kill Duncan to save the others? Alistair would never forgive me._ I knew, though, that it was the only right thing to do. I’d try really hard not to kill him – knock him out, if I could – but I’d do what I had to if it came to that. I nodded.

 I tucked my hand through his arm, and we shuffled off towards the others’ camp.

 “Maker’s ass, what happened here?” Duncan had paused, staring at the corpses that ranged from frozen to thawed, electrocuted, and dismembered.

 “Don’t piss of a couple of mages,” I muttered, and Duncan shot me a piercing gaze. I shrugged. “It’s called Storm of the Century. A Tempest and a Blizzard. It’s quite effective.”

 “So I see.”

 We finished picking our way across, then headed down the hall towards camp. I could tell when we got close enough that Duncan could sense the other Wardens; he stiffened, but didn’t falter. I squeezed his arm, and he smiled ruefully at me.

 Aedan and Alistair were standing out in front of the camp, swords sheathed but hands gripping the pommels. Duncan walked slowly, as if testing his own resolve, but didn’t stop. He put his hands out in front, showing he wasn’t carrying a weapon. I smiled encouragingly.

 “I am sorry, Aedan, Alistair. I apologise for my actions. I was…not myself. I am better now.”

 They both relaxed, approaching and exchanging man-hugs. Duncan apologised over and over, making Aedan and Alistair both chuckle. Alistair came over to me, pressing a kiss to my forehead and putting his arm around my shoulders. Even over filth and the smell of the Deep Roads, I could smell that scent that was all Alistair, and I nuzzled as close as I could get. I missed that smell, missed the feel of him and his strong arms and smooth skin and rippling muscles and… _Oh, great, Sierra. Smart. Get turned on in the middle of the Deep Roads while covered in dirt and Maker knows what else…_

 We settled at the camp for an early rest, planning to set out early. We ate more roasted deepstalker, then I snuggled up between Alistair and Duncan and went to sleep.

 After a few hours, we rose, packed up, and got moving. Gorim pointed out signs of the Legion’s presence – a long-extinguished fire, remains of packaged rations, chalk marks on the walls that looked random, but were actually arrows. It was encouraging; we were near the front, and had directions to follow to find it.

 We walked for hours in virtual silence; no one wanted to talk about our worries, and we couldn’t force ourselves to make small talk with everything that had happened.

 It was nearing time to make camp, but everyone was reluctant, wanting to make it to the Legion if possible; finally, exhausted, I called a halt. Aedan shot me a look, and I sighed.

 “Aedan, I know. But I’m tired, and I can’t imagine it’s any easier for the other non-Wardens to keep up. Not all of us have Grey Warden stamina.” I flicked my gaze over to Zevran, Oghren, and Gorim, who looked ragged. Sten and Shale, of course, looked fine.

 Getting the hint, he finally nodded. We tucked ourselves into the curve of a wall in a natural cavern and set up camp. I slept fitfully, as did everyone else; the oppressive aura of the Deep Roads just exacerbated everyone’s already grim mood. Duncan chose not to sleep, not wanting to risk seeing the Archdemon in his dreams. I gripped his hand as I slept.

 Duncan had, much to my relief, wrangled agreement from everyone travelling with us to defend ourselves and the other Wardens with lethal force if necessary, in case he got confused again; no one was happy about it, but at least it wasn’t just me.

 After a brief respite, we got moving again. Gorim assured me it was mid-morning; it could have been any time, as far as I could tell, in the perpetual dusk of the Deep Roads. I was stiff from sleeping propped up against the wall, and was in the process of stretching while walking, when we came across a patrol of Legion dwarves.

 They were standing, weapons drawn, when we came around a sharp corner. When they saw us, they were startled, but put their weapons away.

 “Ho the Legion!” shouted Oghren, much to everyone’s general amusement.

 “What in the…Grey Wardens?” One dwarf pulled off his helmet, stepping forward in shock. He had scruffy, curly brown hair and a Grizzly Adams beard; no tattoo, but his accent wasn’t noble. He had a long, pale scar running down one cheek, and his hands were calloused from years of swordplay.

 Duncan stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest and bowing. “Greetings. I am Duncan, Commander of the Grey, and these are my Wardens and companions.”

 “Atrast vala, topsiders. I am Ean, and this is Tipper. Ancestor’s shiny arseholes, what are you doing down here? Don’t you know this is a Blight?”

 I laughed, covering my mouth at the hilarious curses. Duncan smothered a grin. “We are aware.”

 Tipper took off his helm, and a long mane of coppery read hair cascaded out. _Make that_ her _helm._ She had a bold tattoo across her forehead and around one eye. “Oh, let me guess. Orzammar won’t pledge support until the throne is settled. Which means…you’re looking for the Paragon.”

 We all gave wry smiles. Aedan stepped forward. “You have a good grasp of the politics of the situation.”

 The two Legion dwarves exchanged glances. “Come. We’ll take you to Kardol.”

 We followed the two dwarves for a couple of hours through a warren of tunnels. I was glad we’d found them, not sure we’d have been able to find our way through without a guide. “Which is the point, of course,” Tipper had responded when I mentioned it. “’Spawn aren’t that smart. They get lost, and we can pick them off easier.” Apparently the Legion camp moved frequently, even when near the front, to avoid the darkspawn ambushing them while they slept.

 We came to an area that opened on to the trench, a massive stone bridge spanning the gap. _Just like in game._ There were a couple dozen dwarves around, some seemingly sleeping, some cooking or performing other domestic tasks, some appearing to stand watch. And I guessed there were probably more patrols out, plus small groups heading back and forth from Orzammar for supplies...I’d have bet there were pushing fifty dwarves, just for this Legion front. And Gorim had explained that there were multiple fronts, each with their own little tribe of dwarves. _Just how many 'dead' dwarves are there wandering around?_

 In the middle of the enormous cavern stood a dwarf who appeared to be the leader; groups and individuals approached him, talked for a while, and then left as he gestured to the next. I assumed it was Kardol, though honestly I couldn’t really remember what the dwarf was supposed to look like. He was stocky, even for a dwarf; his forearms were probably as big around as my thighs. He had an elaborate, dark auburn beard, close-cropped auburn hair, and a tattoo that dominated much of his forehead and face.

 We drew the attention of every dwarf there as we exited the narrow tunnel we’d come from. Several stopped to stare, a few even pointed; most continued with whatever they were doing, but it was painfully obvious that all of them were watching us. Many of the dwarves wore full helmets, and it was sort of like the feeling at the Circle Tower, with so many faceless men in heavy armour standing around.

 Kardol turned towards as us we followed Ean across the room. He returned Duncan’s formal bow, then the two men clasped forearms and grinned.

 “Atrast vala, Duncan! I had heard you were dead, but I see the rumours were unfounded. It is good to see you, Salroka.”

 “Kardol. Yes, I survived, but few of the other Wardens did. It has been an…interesting few months.”

 “I’m surprised to see you down here. I figured, with the Blight, you’d be up on the surface, organising armies or some such.”

 “Yes, well, we need armies to organise, first. And with Endrin’s passing…”

 “Ah, yes. We also are at a loss; without a King, we have no orders. So for now, we hold on. As does the rest of Orzammar, I expect.”

 “Just so. Which is why we are here. Can we talk somewhere, privately?”

 Kardol nodded, and gestured at a dwarf standing across the room. The other dwarf, a balding, furry, short bear of a man, came over, and, ignoring us, began dealing with the lineup of dwarves that had formed near Kardol while we talked. Kardol turned, leading us away.

 “Your companions can wait over there,” Kardol offered, pointing to an area with some stone benches, and a fire pit with some sort of enormous animal – bronto, I assumed – roasting on a spit over it.

 Duncan gestured, and everyone except Aedan, Alistair, Gorim, and I headed over there. The four of us followed Kardol down another tunnel and into a small, dwarven-made room. There was an actual door, one of the huge, metal dwarven doors they used to seal off Deep Roads entrances, and a bunch of crates. That was all. A small opening at the back of the big storage room was the only sign that the ‘safe’ area might be larger than it appeared. I wondered if there were sleeping areas and such back there, and if so, why the Legion moved around so much.

 Kardol took a crate off of another, pushing both back, then did it again; he gestured for us to sit as he wrangled his own crate down and climbed up.

 “Who’re your friends, Duncan?”

 We introduced ourselves; Aedan and Alistair got respectful nods, Gorim, when he took off his helm, received an inscrutable frown, and I got a curious appraisal from the dwarf as we were introduced.

 “Welcome, Wardens. Gorim, I have to say, I had heard Sereda Aeducan’s second had been banished to the surface. I never expected to see you here, of all places.”

 Duncan cleared his throat. “That’s part of why we’re here, Kardol.”

 “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

 Gorim spoke up. “Kardol, you and I both know Sereda knew enough about the Legion to survive her exile and get here. She knew the maps by heart, knew your way-stations and the locations of the fronts. Have you seen her?”

 Kardol’s piercing gaze transferred from Duncan to Gorim. “Why do you care, Surfacer? You couldn’t save her from exile, and you can’t take her back now, even if you could find her.”

 Gorim flinched, and I winced. I reached out to put my hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. “You’re right. I can’t. But Endrin is dead, Harrowmont is a sniveling sycophant, and I’ll be damned if Bhelen becomes King without a fight, not after what he did to her, and to Trian. We need her.”

 “Whatever for? She couldn’t return. She can’t take the throne. She’s been exiled!"

 Duncan cleared his throat, drawing Kardol's attention. "If she had the backing of a Paragon, she could."

 Kardol stared at Duncan for a moment and then roared with laughter. "That's what you're here for? Duncan, my friend, you've been sent on a fool's errand. Branka's been missing for two years. No one survives two years in the Deep."

 I looked to Duncan, who nodded, and then I spoke. "Actually, she's alive. If you're crazy and ruthless enough, it's possible to survive - by sacrificing everyone who followed you. She's in Bownammar. She's chasing a relic, the Anvil of the Void."

 "And you would know that because...?"

 "Long story. Very, very long story." I sighed. "It doesn't really matter, though. We're going across that bridge, to find Branka. It would be very...helpful, if we knew that Sereda would be here waiting when we were done."

 "Will you help us?" Duncan appealed to the grizzled dwarf. "Please, my friend."

 Kardol looked at Duncan, then myself and Gorim in turn, looking thoughtful. I hoped our earnest expressions would convince him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but his frown was making me nervous. I waited with baited breath for what he would say...

 It turned out it didn't matter. I heard the loud sound of a clanking, armoured footstep, and turned to see a dwarf ducking through the small opening in the back. Kardol looked surprised, and somehow...afraid? We waited until the new arrival stopped in front of us.

 Gorim was on his knees before the helmet came off to reveal a stunning, red-haired female dwarf with a scowl on her face.

 "Your Majesty," Gorim whispered, apparently almost overcome.

 She directed her frown to the kneeling warrior, reaching down to put her hand on his shoulder. "Get up, would you? I didn't stop hating all that nug-humping ceremony just because I've been in the Deep for a few months..."

 Gorim looked up, grinned widely, then jumped to his feet, gripping her hand. She laughed and put her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly. I looked away, embarrassed and nervous for her reaction when she learned about his wife.

 He seemed to have the same thought, stiffening up after a moment, pushing her back slightly and peeling her arms away. Surprise flitted across her face, before she slammed an expressionless mask down over her features, reminding me of Zevran in the early days.

 Sereda bowed to Duncan and then to the rest of us, and we all returned the gesture.

 "You really know how to find Branka?" Her voice was musical, and much more feminine than I'd have expected from a dwarven warrior, princess or not.

 I nodded, and she considered me for a moment. "Ignoring the obvious question for a minute, just what makes you think she'd support me?"

 "She doesn't care who is on the throne, as long as she gets the Anvil. She'll support anyone who helps her get it, or allow us to choose if we help." I wasn't going to mention Caridin, not yet, and not in front of Kardol. We would have to convince her of the truth of my story first.

 She stared at me for a moment longer, then gestured to Kardol. The two of them went through the small opening, standing just on the other side; we could hear whispers, but I couldn't make out any of the words. We waited politely on our crates while they spoke. I risked a glance at Gorim to see him blushing and shifting around nervously. I felt sorry for him; no outcome was going to be entirely good for him. Either he abandoned his wife, who was with child (even if it seemed the child might not be his), or he left Sereda, which I wasn't sure he'd be able to do. And that's even if she let him walk away - if she became Queen, she could just as easily have him arrested or executed if he tried to leave. _I hope she's not that kind of ruthless. Dwarven politics is cut-throat, but hopefully not to that extent_...

 After a few uncomfortable minutes, Sereda and Kardol came back out together.

 "I'm coming with you," she stated, as though there had never been any doubt she would help us. "I've not officially joined the Legion, so I can still leave.” Gorim sighed in relief, and my eyebrows raised. It hadn’t occurred to me what might have happened if she had actually joined the Legion of the Dead. “The Legion will help us get across the chasm to Bownammar, but they dare not go any further. We will have to make it through to Branka by ourselves."

 Duncan nodded, and delved into a discussion with Kardol about when to launch the offensive. Of course, Duncan wanted to begin as soon as possible, but Kardol insisted he needed time to pull in his patrols and relocate the camp.

 Sereda motioned to the rest of us, and we followed her out of the supply room and into the tunnel, leaving Duncan and Kardol talking. We followed Sereda back to the main cavern, where we joined up with the rest of the group. Sten was sparring with a Legionnaire, with everyone else watching. They appeared to be well matched, and it was sort of amusing to see the giant get knocked over by a stout dwarf. Shale was surrounded by a group of admiring dwarves, and appeared to be quite pleased with their admiration.

 Bel dropped to his knee, face red, as soon as he saw Sereda approach, but she was quick to pull him to his feet. Faren stayed back, expression inscrutable, but Sereda nodded to him and offered him a friendly arm, just as she did for everyone else, and he relaxed. After introductions, we all sat to eat. Aedan filled everyone in about the planned offensive to the gates of Bownammar, and I could see relief in everyone's eyes when they learned that Sereda would be coming, and that the Legion would help us get across the bridge. I could practically see the fear that we'd come all this way and then not find Sereda recede.

 Gorim and Sereda alternated staring at each other longingly when they thought the other wasn't looking, though they both tried to act as if nothing strange was going on. It was awkward, but we kept up with small talk to cover the discomfort.

 After a while, Duncan rejoined us. Kardol had the Legion move their camp to the plateau we currently occupied, and we arranged for one Warden at a time to be on watch with a Legionnaire. We settled in to sleep for a while, though looking at Duncan, I knew he wouldn't be sleeping again. I offered to stay with him, far from the other Wardens; he just shook his head and began pacing around the area.

 For once, we slept without armour; it felt strange, and I kept shifting, expecting to feel the discomfort of stiff leather digging in where I lay. Alistair curled up protectively around me, the rest of our group nearby, as usual. It felt strange to be so near him, to feel the heat of his body against mine. I worried briefly that I probably smelled rank, but realised he probably did too, and we were both inured to it by now. I wasn’t truly tempted to make too much of it – we still had no privacy, and I wasn’t having sex again until I’d had the world’s longest bath – but we were both somewhat giddy just to be close again. Nervous about the upcoming battle, and distracted by Alistair’s presence, I had trouble sleeping, so I was quite awake when I heard Gorim creep out of our camp in response to Sereda's whisper. I closed my eyes and pretended not to see them walk away quietly. I don't know what possessed me, but I furtively wiggled out of Alistair's arms to follow them.

 They went back into the storage room we'd been in before; I snuck cautiously up to the door and peeked around the corner in time to see Gorim kneel in front of a seated Sereda, expression agonised. He spoke, too quietly for me to hear, and then Sereda's smile faded, turning into tears. She slid down off the crate on to the floor in front of him, and he pulled her sobbing form into his arms.

 Embarrassed to witness such an intimate moment, I turned and tip-toed back the way I'd come, climbing back into Alistair's arms. When I finally slept, I had nightmares of Alistair leaving me, and woke being cradled in his arms as I sobbed. I kissed him passionately as my tears slowed, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream.

 The kiss rapidly deepened, both of us desperate to forget where we were and what was happening, only breaking off when Zevran started clapping and Oghren made a rude comment about forging the moaning statue. We sighed and separated reluctantly; my cheeks were aflame.

 I climbed to my feet slowly, seeing the Legion camp already mostly disassembled and dwarves rushing about everywhere. I struggled into my armour, looking up as I was finished to see Gorim approaching, dressed but somewhat more rumpled than normal; he avoided eye contact with anyone and just started packing up his own things. A few minutes later, Sereda emerged from the same hallway, and I smirked. No one else seemed to have noticed, and I didn't draw attention to the fact that they'd obviously been doing what Oghren had implied Alistair and I were about to do. _They have enough problems to sort out, without adding being teased to it_.

 Once everyone was mostly packed, we joined Duncan and Kardol standing in front of the heavily guarded bridge. Duncan smiled at us, his eyes bloodshot but not rheumy, then turned back to the bridge.

 Kardol shouted orders, and the dwarves fell in to formation in front of him, shields at the front and archers with crossbows behind. Duncan turned to me.

 "Feel up to a little scouting expedition, Sierra?"

 I lifted my eyebrows, surprised. It hadn't occurred to me. "You want me to check on numbers, and things? Yeah, I could do that."

 Alistair shifted uncomfortably, and I gripped his hand with one of mine as I reached up with the other to cover Aedan's mouth before he could say anything. "I'll be perfectly safe, and if for some reason I'm not, if I have to, I'll run like hell. It'll be fine."

 I put down my pack, drew my daggers, and walked around the amassed dwarves. I could hear shouts of alarm as I stepped out onto the bridge, but ignored them. I could feel dozens of eyes on my back as I picked my way across the rubble on the bridge. I looked back to see Kardol watching skeptically, and Oghren at his side sneering. I sighed and turned back to concentrate on my footing.

 After a minute, I was past the midpoint of the bridge, and another minute or two brought me close to the far side. I don't know what I'd expected, but the dozens of spawn in ranks in a massive semi-circle around the bridge was not it. They ignored me entirely, which I did expect, though it was still creepy to be able to walk within a few feet of the disgusting creatures without drawing any attention.

 I snuck behind the first rows of hurlocks and genlocks with crude swords and axes already drawn, to see two ogres on each side, and one Emissary at the back in the centre. There was also a row of archers on either side. _That's a lot of darkspawn._ I took a moment to count, memorising positions, then hurried back to the bridge.

 On the other side, I approached Kardol and Duncan, who stood with the rest of our party. I explained the layout, scratching a rough picture in the dust at my feet, and the men all around me looked grim. Kardol and Duncan debated, briefly, before deciding that the Legion would bear the brunt of the melee fighters, while the Wardens and companions would fight their way around to deal with the archers, ogres, and Emissary. Jowan and Anders were to focus entirely on healing. They tried to insist on another Storm of the Century, but it would only have prevented our allies from getting into the fight, and wouldn't have hit the entire group anyway.

 Everyone knew there would be casualties. I sent up a brief prayer to God, the Maker, or whoever else would listen, that we could all come out of this unharmed.

 I volunteered to cross to the far side again and take out the Emissary as soon as the group attacked. Duncan nodded and kissed my forehead, as did Aedan. Alistair gave me a scorching kiss, ignoring the catcalls around us entirely. I grinned and slapped my helmet into place.

 "Good luck!" I called, and then headed back across the bridge, pack back in place and daggers glinting in the dim light.


	83. Battle-Worn

Chapter Eighty-Three: Battle-worn

 I crept back across the bridge, glad that I wouldn’t have to do it again until after we’d found Branka. _Seriously with the walking!_ I sighed, and then crept up past the Emissary, leaning against the wall behind it, daggers ready.

 I didn’t have to wait long until I heard the sound of booted feet marching. I strained to see in the dim light, but soon saw the flickering of moving torches in the middle of a mass of dwarves. They marched five across, the outer rows with shields overlapping, the dwarves equipped not only with swords or axes and shields, but also spears for the centre three rows to stab through the shield wall. About halfway back I saw a cluster of taller people on either side, and knew that was my party.

 The darkspawn heard them at the same time as I, and there was an aura of anticipation in the air as they limbered up and prepped their weapons. About the time I could sense the other Grey Wardens, the darkspawn started growling; they were silenced by a sharp bark from the Emissary. A few of the archers popped off shots toward the group, but they all bounced off the raised shields, and the Emissary shouted again, what I assumed to be a scathing rebuke.

 Just as the dwarves in front reached the end of the bridge, I heard Kardol shout out a command, and the dwarves began to charge forward as a group. The shield wall spread out to maintain the perimeter. The darkspawn, who’d been holding back until the dwarves exited the bridge, rushed forward and clashed with the first row of dwarves.

 The Emissary hadn’t summoned its magic yet, and I waited to take it out; I wanted all the other darkspawn occupied – they couldn’t see me, but I still didn’t want them taking pot shots in my direction. So I watched, as did it, as the front line dwarves filed out to the sides, carving a path through the hurlocks on either side; the groups of my companions hustled through the gaps, which then closed so that none of the hurlocks could turn and attack the Wardens’ backs. Except for one Warden; I noticed Anders, standing well back and surrounded by dwarves, as he began chanting and sending out shafts of turquoise healing energies to wherever they were needed most.

 I saw a couple of dwarves fall, swarmed by darkspawn, but the gap was immediately closed by the dwarves on either side, or by one from behind stepping forward with shield raised, and the protection of the shield wall was mostly maintained.

 As the Wardens and companions began picking off the darkspawn archers, the Emissary growled something, and I felt the ground rumble slightly as the ogres lumbered forth into the fray. With that, the Emissary gathered his magic and began to cast.

 I reached out through the greasy, tainted aura and seized his mana before he could react. I reached around and slit the Emissary’s throat, but not as deeply as I normally would; I wanted it to remain alive, at least for a little while, while I used its mana. Black blood bubbled out through the laceration and spilled out of its ruined mouth, and it slowly dropped onto its knees at my feet. I kicked it over, and hastily started popping shields onto the Wardens, who I could barely see in the dim light, but could locate through the taint, and then trying to isolate individual companions and dwarves as well.

 And I was glad I had; I looked to my left just in time to see Alistair bashed by the back of an ogre’s massive hand, and go flying, but he popped right back up like a jack-in-the-box and dived back in, largely uninjured.

 I turned to head in that direction when I heard a shout from the opposite side. I slowed to look, and could see Sten standing toe-to-toe with the Ogre, Aedan and Faren assisting him, but what drew my attention was the tall person with dark hair and dark skin standing with his hands over his ears, not paying attention, not even holding weapons. _Duncan_. With one last look over at Alistair’s group – relieved to see that the ogre was down and they’d started attacking the hurlocks from the rear – I changed direction and headed towards Duncan. I cried out as I watched him sprout two arrows, one in the shoulder and one in the flank; he didn’t react, other than to stagger at the momentum. As I closed the distance, I began to hear the screams pouring forth from his mouth.

 I reached his side just as Sereda did; I carefully pulled Duncan down to sit, without disturbing the arrows, and then we both put our backs to him, ready to defend him from any darkspawn thinking to take advantage of his weakness.

 Still apparently unable to sense or see me, a couple of genlocks and a hurlock approached, looking for an easy kill with Duncan curled up and Sereda’s back apparently unprotected; fortunately they came one or two at a time, and I was able to use my crossed blades to deflect blows, pushing them off balance and getting in a few good swipes. Darkspawn blood poured out over my hands and arms, and soon there were three darkspawn corpses at my feet.

 I was startled to look around and see that no more darkspawn were standing. The dwarves had begun dragging the injured away from the carnage, while everyone else just caught their breath. As soon as I was able, I screamed for Anders and dropped down to check on Duncan.

 His breathing was ragged and blood speckled his lips; more blood poured out around the arrows, and his normally dark complexion had gone pale. I cradled his head, crooning reassuring nonsense in his ear; he didn’t even seem to know I was there, and still held his head as though in pain.

 Anders dropped down at my side.

 “What? Oh. Arrows. Okay.” He fumbled through his pack, coming out with several handfuls of bandages and some poultices, as well as something that looked like a pair of plyers. “Can you hold him? This is going to hurt.”

 “I don’t think he’ll notice. He didn’t even twitch when he was hit.” All the same I wrapped my arms carefully around his chest, pinning his own arms to his sides. “I think one punctured his lung. He’s got blood in his mouth.”

 “Got it.” Anders snapped the end off the arrow in the front of his shoulder, then the one on his flank, before deftly unbuckling Duncan’s armour and tossing the chest piece out of the way. He took a deep breath, then reached in with the plyers. “Here we go.”

 He grabbed the arrow by the steel head and began wiggling it back out, stopping once to widen the hole with his dagger. Duncan’s harsh breathing worsened, and I heard a whistling sound from the wound, but otherwise he didn’t react at all.

 Anders, however, swore. “Andraste’s saggy tits! I need some help.”

 Aedan materialised at my side, startling me. “What do you need me to do?”

 Anders soaked a handful of bandaging in something he poured out of a pouch at his belt, then handed it to Aedan. “Hold it over the wound. Hard as you can. It will hurt – maybe,” he amended as he eyed Duncan’s unseeing stare, “but it’s pain, or death, so I’d pick pain. Push as hard as you can.”

 Aedan complied and the whistling sound decreased, while Anders examined the tip of the arrow quickly. “Not poisoned. Probably tainted, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Okay, Sierra, switch sides.”

 I shuffled around and allowed Duncan to lay sideways against my shoulder as Anders checked out the arrow in his flank. “Thank the Maker, it’s not that deep.” Again with the plyers, he teased out the steel head. He slapped a poultice over the resulting hole, and I held it in place while he returned to the wound in the front of Duncan’s shoulder.

 By this time, Duncan’s breaths were gasping and shallow, and his skin had taken on a distinctly grey tinge. Anders swore again before slapping his hand over the wound and shoving Aedan out of the way. A blue glow emanated from the area, and the wound closed up. The whistling stopped entirely, but Duncan’s breathing didn’t improve.

 “Anders…”

 “I know, I know. I just…” He grabbed his dagger again, briefly heating it with magic before brandishing it in Duncan’s direction.

 Aedan grabbed his hand as it descended towards the warrior’s chest. “What, in Andraste’s name, do you think you’re doing with that?”

 “Trust me. I don’t have time to explain. Please, let me save him.”

 The sincere worry on Anders’ face calmed down any distrust my brother had. Aedan nodded, and Anders proceeded to gently but implacably cut a tiny hole in Duncan’s chest wall a couple of inches above his nipple. After a minute, I could hear a whoosh of air, and Duncan coughed, expelling more air through the hole and allowing him to draw a deeper breath. I heard cheering, and looked up, dazed, to see all of our friends standing around us, watching and smiling.

 Duncan slumped, slowly, his arms going slack, and I lowered him to the ground in relief as his colour improved and he breathed deeply. After a little more air whooshing out, Anders ran a quick scan over Duncan’s entire torso, before healing up the tiny hole he’d made without even a scar.

 “He needs some rest. And hopefully some food.” He cast a worried look at me. “And I’ve no idea where to even start for what’s going on in his head.”

 A shout from the dwarves gathered our attention. They waved for Anders, and he stood with a quiet groan. “Healing dwarves is so draining! Keep him still, and I’ll be back.”

 I nodded, turning to dig in my pack for some blankets. I rolled one under his head for a pillow, and covered him with the other, tucking him in gently, before we all moved a little ways away. Alistair came up and laced his fingers – still in his gauntlet and just as sticky as mine – through mine.

 “What happened?”

 I looked to Sten, who shrugged; Faren stepped forward, expression uncertain. “He was fighting – like a man possessed, honestly, cutting through darkspawn like butter – and then the ogre attacked. Duncan got in front of it and was distracting it so we could flank, when it roared in his face and he just…” Faren looked uncomfortable. “Started screaming, like he was on fire or something. He dropped his swords, grabbed his head, and the ogre just ignored him after that. I couldn’t stop to help, with that ogre still standing…” he trailed off, obviously feeling guilty.

 Aedan put his hand on Faren’s shoulder. “You did the right thing. Nice take down on the ogre, by the way.”

 Faren grinned. I turned to Sereda.

 “Thanks for your help.”

 She eyed me skeptically. “You really just walked past all these darkspawn to stand behind the Emissary?”

 “What can I say? It’s a gift. Or a curse. Not sure, honestly.”

 “How did the dwarves fare?” Aedan asked, distracting us from what could be an awkward conversation. I took a visual inventory of our largely uninjured party. Oghren had blood on his face, and a new scar through one eyebrow, but everyone else looked fine.

 Jowan joined us. “Three dead, seven seriously injured, but they should recover. Anders has patched up the worst injuries, and I got the rest.” He gestured at Oghren. “I’m not as good at healing as he is, obviously.”

 Oghren belched loudly. “Meh. The ladies like a scar with a good story, kid. Don’t get your smalls in a twist over it.”

 We all laughed.

 I sobered up. “Who were the dwarves that died?”

 I was impressed; Jowan could answer right away. “Murray, Walder, and Tipper.”

 I was heartbroken that the energetic, clever-tongued dwarf we’d met the day before was gone. It didn’t seem to matter to me that the dwarves didn’t consider this a tragedy; I did. They may have seen themselves as already dead, but just a few hours before they’d been alive and well. And somehow knowing one of them, having spoken with her…it made it worse.

 I winced, and Alistair put his arm around my shoulders in sympathy. Sereda rolled her eyes.

 “Well, come on then.” Sereda grinned at me. “I know where there’s a sink with a water rune. Let’s go get cleaned up before the men get there.”

 I smiled hesitantly, glad for the distraction, and followed her across the bridge – swearing at it, naturally – and into a little closet of a room. There was no tub, but warm water came out of the rune when she touched it. We both stripped, washing ourselves down quickly, then I redressed in some clean-ish linen under-armour clothing and filled a bucket.

 “I’m going to go over by Duncan and wipe down my armour.”

 Sereda grabbed herself a bucket and joined me; there were already a handful of dwarves and my companions waiting to use the facility as well. I crossed the stupid bridge – again – and sank to the ground near Duncan, piling my armour beside me. As I worked, Alistair, and then Aedan, and then the rest of our companions slowly filtered over to gather around as well. We all re-equipped our armour when it was acceptably clean – _I’m going to have to burn mine, once we get back to Orzammar_ – and then sat watching as several dwarves dug pits into the stone with heavy pickaxes.

 The three dead dwarves were lowered in, and we all had a moment of respectful silence, before more dwarves started filling in the graves. Some began singing, something that mixed ancient Dwarvish with the trade tongue, obviously mournful, though I couldn’t understand many of the words. It was strange, yet somehow beautiful also. It reminded me a bit of a funeral dirge. I wondered what Leli would have thought.

 The gates to Bownammar had been cleared, though the cost was high; we still weren’t sure Duncan would recover, and the Legion had lost three Legionnaires. We decided to spend a night with the Legion, before making any decisions. We were all exhausted, after a morning of fighting and an afternoon of cleanup.

 Alistair wasn’t going to allow us to sleep near Duncan, worried what he might do when he woke; I didn’t want to leave him alone. So we compromised, stripping him of weapons and armour, and Aedan bound his hands, tightly but gently, so we’d have time to react if he woke violently. We were all shocked to see the skin on his forearms blackening and covered in rough blotches, like darkspawn skin. _I wonder how long he’s been hiding that._ I covered it back up and hid it from the newer members, but shared bleak looks with Aedan and Alistair.

 I slept curled in Alistair’s arms, cuddled up next to Duncan. The dwarves were standing watch, and for once all the Wardens could sleep. I had nightmares, unsurprisingly; between darkspawn and dreaming about Duncan dying, I woke in a panicked sweat several times, each time comforted by a very patient Alistair. I didn’t feel particularly well-rested in the morning, but when Duncan stirred, I was wide awake in an instant.

 “What…?” Duncan rolled onto his side, trying to sit up, and had discovered his bound hands. He rubbed his face and looked around groggily. “What happened?”

 I was kneeling in front of him before he could finish asking, untying his hands. “You got…confused, during the battle. Took a couple of arrows.” I pointed at the holes in his linen tunic.

 “There was an ogre. It seemed to…do something to you,” Alistair supplied helpfully.

 Duncan looked thoughtful, but his expression was haggard and his complexion a bit grey. “I remember sending you after the Emissary, and then…nothing.”

 “It’s okay. Anders healed you, and you’re fine now.”

 “No, I doubt very much that I am.”

 I winced, and covered it by handing him a water skin and digging through my pack for food. I shared out some deepstalker jerky and biscuit, and settled in to munch my own. I was distressed to see Duncan barely pick at his. I knew what that meant. _Darkspawn don’t eat normal food._ I tried not to draw attention to it, not to think too much about it.

 Once we’d finished (and Alistair ate most of Duncan’s, too), Duncan had us gather all the Wardens, while he went off a little ways out of earshot and spoke with Anders for a few minutes. Then he walked over to the dwarven camp, pulling Kardol aside for a moment. He came back, face somber.

 “It has become apparent that I am…not well. I have been injured, and have been advised not to overexert myself for a few days, in addition to…” he trailed off, shrugging helplessly. “I will not be accompanying you through Bownammar; I will remain here and help the Legion as much as I can, until you return.”

 Everyone started shouting at once, Aedan and Alistair loudest of all, complaining and begging him not to leave us. I just watched him, silently, drawing my gaze from his worn, tired expression to his bloodshot eyes to the slight stoop in his shoulders. I slumped, knowing he was right. But yet, there was something that just didn’t sit right.

 I took him by the hand, dragging him away from the group who’d started debating amongst themselves. I got him isolated, and looked up at him, apprehensive. A slight smile played around his lips, like he was a proud teacher and I his star pupil.

 “You’re planning on taking your Calling while we’re gone, aren’t you.” I bit my lip, upset.

 “No.” He reached out to touch my cheek. “I considered it, but no. I knew you’d think that though.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t leave you all during a Blight. I will be the one to make the killing blow on the Archdemon, if I possibly can. I swear to you, Sierra, that I will be here when you get back. I just cannot risk the mission or my Wardens’ safety if I get…confused, again.”

 I reached out for him, and he pulled me in for a hug. “Okay. But if you aren’t here when we get back, I’ll find you in your afterlife and kick your ass.”

 He laughed, then led me back to the group, where I slipped under Alistair’s arm and gripped his hand. The anger and shouting had apparently finished, and Aedan’s face registered nothing more than exhausted acceptance. Alistair’s eyes were suspiciously red-rimmed, but he examined my forlorn expression for just a moment and kept his opinion to himself. The newer Wardens seemed to be watching Aedan and Alistair, expecting objections, and when none were forthcoming, they all just hunched over and avoided eye contact.

 Duncan cleared his throat. “Aedan is in charge while you’re there. Alistair is second, and Sierra is third. I expect you all to act like Grey Wardens in my absence, understood?” There was a round of nodding. I was surprised to find myself in the chain of command, but supposed it made sense. I was the third-most experienced Warden in the group, even if most of them hadn’t been told. _Though I wonder how many have put it together, from my appetite and ability to sense darkspawn, as well as the improvement in my skills…_ Some of them must have, because no one questioned Duncan on granting me the authority.

 Duncan did the rounds, saying something to each Warden or companion in the group. He shared a whispered conversation with Sereda, which apparently pissed her off, going by the thinning of her lips and the scowl; I wondered what he’d said. Finally she nodded, however reluctantly, and he moved on.

 I took the opportunity to have a word with Kardol.

 “Nice job, topsider,” he said to me as I approached. “I never thought we’d see you again alive when you walked, plain as day, right across that bridge.”

 I smiled. “Call it a talent. Sadly only works on darkspawn.” He chuckled. “Listen, I need you to do something for me when we’re gone. Did Duncan tell you he’s staying here?”

 He nodded. “And I’m grateful. If we’re to establish a new base, we need to do some tunneling and move supplies. It will be much easier, and safer, with a Grey Warden to warn us when the ‘spawn approach.” He gestured loosely at the massive gate to Bownammar. “This is the furthest the front has pushed in generations. The Legion is thankful for the assistance.”

 “Right, well, listen. Duncan’s not going to admit it, but he’s not in good shape right now. Can you try to keep him out of the fighting? It’s bad enough being this close to so much taint, I think. You must protect him, if you can. Will you do that?”

 Kardol watched me, a curious smile on his face. “Aye, m’lady, I will. I’ll try, anyway. No telling what he’ll do the second my back is turned, but I will surely try.”

 I smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, bruising my hand on his armour.

 I picked my way back to where we had slept, and packed my things. Once everyone was ready to go, I gave Duncan a hug, kissed his cheek, and then turned to follow Aedan down the path a Legion scout had determined led deeper into Bownammar.

 We didn’t have any maps that would be of use, from here on out; the Legion maps Gorim had brought ended at the bridge. I looked back once and waved as we reached the first corner; I saw Duncan’s eyes crinkle in a smile. Then I linked hands with Alistair and turned the corner.

 Bownammar smelled…awful. Worse than most of the rest of the Deep Roads, which was saying something. The taint was so thick I was surprised the air wasn’t green with it, and even the non-Wardens seemed to feel its malevolence. We stayed close together, not talking much, and when we did it was in an unintentional whisper.

 I remembered crypts from the game, and we certainly found dozens of them – little rooms filled with sarcophagi, and often, a couple of darkspawn. Never enough to be a challenge; I thought even I could probably have managed alone. It was sort of strange to think of myself as anything resembling a competent fighter.

 Sereda frowned on anyone disturbing the remains, so the rooms remained un-plundered, much to Zev’s chagrin. But I knew we didn’t really need the money, though I recalled a set of armour to be found down here that might be suitable for Oghren. Unlike in game, the armour made for a dwarf could not just be used by a Qunari. I almost giggled when I remembered once dressing Oghren in Cailan’s gold shiny armour in game. The Legion of the Dead Armour would only fit a dwarf, I was sure. When I mentioned it, Sereda gave me a suspicious look, but then declared that she would have a set of armour crafted for each of us once we reached Orzammar, assuming she was able to take the throne. I was intrigued at the concept of new armour; up until now, all of mine had been appropriated from someone, second-hand.

 Aedan walked with Sereda for most of the day, talking in hushed voices. Gorim trailed behind them, trying not to interfere, yet looking sort of pathetic all the same. I was grateful when Aedan gestured and the red-head joined their discussion. It still looked slightly stilted, but not quite so painful.

 I wondered about what they’d been talking about, until that night when we camped and Sereda approached me where I sat, listlessly, in Alistair’s lap.

 “Sierra?”

 I looked up and smiled, gesturing for her to sit. “Hi, Sereda. Or I suppose I should really say ‘your Majesty.’ I’m not very good at the whole protocol thing, I’m afraid.”

 “Not surprising, given how you were raised. I hate titles anyway.”

 My eyes widened in surprise. “Ah. Aedan told you?”

 “Yes, not that I’d have believed him, but Gorim corroborated his story. It’s…fascinating.”

 “Yeah, that’s one word for it, I suppose.” I chuckled. “As strange as it is, it’s true. I’m not from Thedas.”

 “What can you tell me about myself? Gorim said you knew quite a bit about me.”

  _Ah, the test. Had to know…_ I thought for a minute about the dwarf noble origin. “Let me see. You had two brothers, one older, one younger. Trian was a pompous ass, and more worried about gaining the throne than about being a good leader once he’d gotten it. He was jealous of your popularity. Bhelen always acted like the sweet younger brother. He had been dallying with a noble-hunter named Rica. Who’s currently pregnant with his son, by the way. And Rica is Faren’s sister, so I’d recommend you not say anything bad about her.”

 “Why would I say anything bad about her? I think there needs to be more mixing between the Castes, not less. And an heir I can adopt as my own helps me, it doesn’t cause me problems.”

 “Right…anyway. You had been tasked with going into the Deep Roads to clear your way into the old Aeducan Thaig and find the Aeducan shield. Bhelen had warned you Trian was trying to kill you, but you refused to kill him first to protect yourself. You had one – or a few, I’m not totally sure – of Bhelen’s men with you. Frandlin Ivo, I think, and maybe some others? You got to the Thaig only to realise someone else had gotten there first. You went in to find Trian dead. Bhelen showed up with Harrowmont and your father, and accused you of murdering Trian. Frandlin lied and said he’d seen you kill your brother.

 “Bhelen already had the Assembly bribed and blackmailed; he had you exiled without a trial, to supposedly die in the Deep Roads, while Gorim was sent to the surface. There’s a rumour that he poisoned your father, though other rumours say Endrin just didn’t have the heart to carry on after losing you and Trian both; he also came to realise that you’d been framed by Bhelen, and that he’d been wrong to allow your exile.”

 She smiled, a tight, sad smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Too little, too late, wasn’t it, Father?” Her tone was more sad than bitter, and it made me want to hug her. I refrained.

 “He did instruct Harrowmont to send out search parties for you, but I don’t know if those orders were ever carried out. And he named Harrowmont as his successor to try to keep Bhelen off the throne.”

 Sereda bit her lip, looking distressed. I couldn’t blame her; she’d gone from loving daughter to bitter exile in a matter of moments, and now was being forced to rethink her bitterness and her exile. It couldn’t have been easy.

 She finally shook herself, then changed the subject. “Well, Gorim’s right – if you aren’t what you claim to be, you’re one exceptional spy.”

 “Hah! Yeah, I’d be a terrible spy. Not at all sneaky, I’m afraid.”

 “So tell me, then: why does Oghren believe your story to be entirely false?”

 I explained about Branka and her search for the Anvil, and what she’d allowed to happen to try to break through Caridin’s traps. Sereda looked distinctly green when I explained about the broodmother, and incensed when I told her why. I didn’t even get a chance to explain about Caridin and the Anvil before she was spitting mad.

 “If what you say is true, that woman cannot be allowed to live. I will not allow that sort of ruthlessness to spread. No one must know. Branka will have to be written in the Memories as killed by darkspawn. Otherwise there are those who will revere her, regardless of her crimes.”

 Everyone had gathered around while we talked, and were now listening intently. Except Oghren, who was snoring drunkenly in his bedroll, to my relief. “It gets worse. Do you know how golems are made?”

 I was always conflicted about the golems, in game. While I truly believed Branka deserved to die, and that her madness could not be allowed to continue, the golems would be amazingly useful allies. And while I had no qualms about volunteers being transformed, I didn’t know if we could ever trust any government, no matter how benevolent and well-meaning, with that power, the ability to force their political enemies into essential slavery. Even if Sereda managed to avoid that trap and only use the Anvil for good, there was no guarantee her successors would.

 Sereda was thoughtful after the discussion, and I wondered if she’d thought of some alternative to the options in game. _What if we could remove Branka, but somehow still use the Anvil? Find some way to use it ethically?_ Everyone else honestly looked ill. Between Branka’s deeds and those of some long-dead dwarven king, the Anvil struck me as intensely dangerous.

 Finally we all headed to sleep. I had an uneventful watch with an emotionally distressed Gorim; I offered to talk, he declined politely, and we spent the rest of the two hours in silence.


	84. First Day They Come

Chapter Eighty-Four: First Day They Come

 

The next days brought several larger engagements with darkspawn, but also the first of the ghosts and undead I had expected in Bownammar. Anders told us the Veil was very thin, hardly a surprise in this place, and all manner of things had reanimated themselves. There were also enormous tainted spiders, which grossed me out in game and were a thousand times worse in person.

 The undead were actually easier to fight, in many ways, than darkspawn; they were less intelligent, and though difficult to kill, they were easy to maim. And despite being rotting tissue, they smelled less bad than the ‘spawn, and did not get us nearly as sticky as darkspawn ichor. I had a slightly more challenging time of it; they could see me. No walking up behind, bold as brass, to slit throats; I had to dodge and parry and fight like everyone else. The spiders, I stayed away from. Selfish, probably, but I had neither the agility of Aedan or Zev to jump around as necessary, nor the strength of the warriors to protect myself. I cursed myself for not learning how to use a ranged weapon. And I was definitely the least skilled at hand-to-hand combat of everyone with us in the Deep Roads, though at least I did not entirely embarrass myself.

 Often, after any skirmish, Zevran would spend a while with me, debriefing. While I had only enough skill and focus to keep myself from being skewered, he apparently had enough left over to watch me during the fights. I was sure Aedan asked him to keep an eye on me, protect me, and I was just grateful that he didn’t interfere with me fighting at all. But his observations were keen, and usually too accurate for comfort, and I spent a lot of time being reprimanded for various perceived failings. I knew he was trying to help, and I appreciated it, but it was depressing being informed how short I still fell from where I needed to be. Alistair obviously wanted to defend me, which would have really pissed me off; realising that, he bit his lip and held his tongue, though the scowl on his face made his opinion on the subject obvious.

 We finally made it to what I had assumed was the darkspawn Forge Master. It was a genlock with more armour than most, a bow, and an enormous hammer. And not a magic user in the bunch, which limited my effectiveness a little. Unwilling to face the Forge Master alone, given it was unlikely I’d be able to kill it in one strike, I stayed with the group as we fought our way through. Anders cast a blizzard that dealt with most of the archers, and I took out the rest with my daggers, one at a time. When Alistair reached the Forge Master, he drew its attention while the rest of us took turns darting in to stab or slash at its back. After one particularly vicious swing of its hammer, I heard a sharp crack and then Alistair screamed and fell back. Bel stepped up, his shield covering Alistair’s retreat; Anders was with him, so I redoubled my attack and managed to bury my dagger in its neck. It sank down, its armour sticky with darkspawn blood, but Oghren grabbed the hammer and Aedan the bow before they could be soiled as well.

 By the time I reached Alistair, Anders had healed a broken arm, and he claimed to be feeling fine. I gave Aedan a look, and he sighed and called a halt to rest. I made Alistair eat and drink, _not that getting Grey Wardens to eat is tough_ , and poked and prodded at his arm myself before feeling reassured that he suffered no lingering effects.

 No one wanted to sleep there with all the corpses, so we rested for an hour and continued on. We came upon a temple-like area that was vaguely familiar from the game, and after battling a couple of ogres, found the Legion of the Dead shrine. Sereda would not permit us to take the armour or weaponry strewn around, though Aedan took the key and we were attacked by spirits; the spirits were easy to kill, and didn’t leave corpses, which was nice.

 We all agreed to rest inside the shrine; it had a locking door, and was relatively clean of the taint that infected the rest of the Deep Roads. Sereda spent most of the time reading inscriptions on statues, and memorising details of the shrine to share with Kardol and, eventually, the Shaperate. She was enraged to learn that the Legion had been considered equivalent to a noble house, and that fact seemed to have been conveniently left out of the Memories. I didn’t envy the Shaper who would have to deal with an angry Sereda when we got back.

 I doubted that anyone slept well, perhaps with the exception of Alistair, who needed it to recover from his wound. After I gave up on sleep, I spent some time chatting with Anders and Jowan. Anders, upon closer inspection, looked like hell. He admitted to his dislike of small spaces and the underground, and I was sympathetic. The Deep Roads certainly weren’t my favourite place to be. Jowan, however, seemed to be coping well. He’d slowly been gaining in confidence since his Joining, and he was now no longer reluctant to offer an opinion or a suggestion when we were making decisions. He was still quiet; I hoped it wasn’t still out of fear that one of us would change our mind and summarily execute him.

 I recalled from the game that we would be getting close to the Broodmother’s area, and before that, Hespith. I eyed Oghren speculatively, as he took a pull from his beard flask, and wondered if he’d believe me sooner rather than later. I hoped so – mutual avoidance was only going to get us so far. He belched noisily, and I sighed. _Maybe it will get me far enough…_

 When Alistair woke, everyone packed up and ate quickly. We unlocked the temple and let ourselves out. I noticed Sereda whispering what looked like a prayer, or perhaps it was a promise; she turned away resolutely and we headed into the next tunnel when Aedan unlocked the door.

 As we walked, I kept expecting to hear Hespith’s creepy voice echoing down the corridors, but it never happened. I supposed it was a bit melodramatic, and couldn’t help but laugh at myself critiquing the melodrama of a video game while I was living inside one. We defeated a couple of small groups of darkspawn – easy once I’d disabled the Emissaries – and then we came out into a large chamber, to finally find Hespith.

 The dwarven woman, or perhaps ghoul was closer to the truth, sat in a corner, rocking, and singing the creepy poem to herself mindlessly. Strewn around her were corpses, of both darkspawn and dwarves, mostly dismembered. The odours of feces and rot and taint mixed horribly, and I gagged at the eye-watering stench. Aedan dragged Oghren over, then crouched down to speak with Hespith quietly. Everyone listened keenly; knowing what she was going to say, the horror of her revelations, I stayed away, near the slightly less pungent hallway, and waited.

 After some discussion, I saw Hespith suddenly look up to stare directly at Aedan, eyes clearing for just a moment. She nodded, touching his arm, and then closed her eyes. I didn’t even see him draw a dagger, but caught a flash of silver as he stabbed it deeply into her abdomen, angled up towards her heart. She gasped once, and then slumped down, dead; Aedan’s aim had been true, and her death was instant. He closed her eyes gently, and then stood, wiping his hand and dagger off on a rag. Everyone else looked ill, but sympathetic. Zevran approached him and they spoke, quietly, for a moment. I was intensely glad my brother had someone with him who understood the hard choices he had to make.

 Oghren avoided my gaze and went to stand by the next doorway, axe in hand, looking impatient. Everyone else, understanding we were in for a nasty fight, got ready and followed him. I wanted to go through the door first, seeing as the darkspawn wouldn’t see me, and I could double-check what was on the other side. Aedan refused; I got the impression he was worried I’d take on the Broodmother alone. I had no intention of doing that, though I wondered if I might not be able to get up behind her and slit her throat during the fight.

 We went through the door together, Aedan and Zev slipping off to the sides and seeming to disappear, Anders and Jowan huddling behind the warriors nervously. I followed behind, daggers drawn, breathing slowly to try to quell the panic I felt creeping in. The Broodmother was around a corner, sitting immobile in a depression in the stone floor. There were sacks and clumps of grey, quivering, fleshy stuff that I assumed must have been the equivalent of darkspawn afterbirth scattered about; splatters of the same were on the walls. A couple of larger sacks looked like they contained bodies, curled up in fetal position; genlocks, I realised, that must have been stillborn.

 The Broodmother was even more horrific than I’d expected. In game it was sort of disgusting, but nothing could have prepared me for this monstrosity. It was like Jabba the Hut mixed with a giant octopus all in one. Her flesh was pink-ish, bloated, and oozing clear mucous; there was blood drying all down her front, coating a couple of the many horrific breasts and dribbling onto her distended stomach. She had to be ten feet tall – even Sten looked small by comparison – and I’d have bet she weighed at least a tonne. She was grossly fat – _no, pregnant_ , I realised with dismay – but her wrinkly bald head looked somewhat like the dwarf I knew she’d once been.

 She opened her mouth to scream when she saw us, and I realised her teeth were pointed and all protruding out like some sort of cannibalistic sucker fish. I stumbled to a halt, too revolted to move, too frightened; fortunately my companions were more resilient, though equally disgusted, if the looks on their faces were anything to go by. As one, the warriors engaged tentacles, and the mages began casting magic to slow and weaken the Broodmother. Aedan appeared out of the shadows at her back, and I guessed he must have had the same thought as I – get behind her and slit her throat.

 An unexpected tentacle shot up through the stone floor, grabbing him around the waist and tossing him. He tucked and rolled, landing less awkwardly than he might have, and spun to start hacking away at the wiggling appendage. No one was even close to the body of the Broodmother.

 I knew she spat acid, and hoped she wouldn’t see me soon enough to do that, as I finally got control of my legs back and began edging around the room, dodging flailing tentacles and my companions both. I got behind her just in time for a wave of darkspawn, mostly genlocks who I assumed would be this monstrosity’s offspring, to come pouring in through a narrow tunnel off to one side in response to the Broodmother’s screams. Anders began throwing fireballs, while Jowan kept his concentration on slowing and cursing the Broodmother; the few darkspawn that survived Anders were executed by Sten and Alistair as they came forward through the thick, greasy smoke.

 I turned my attention back to the Broodmother, who was looking around wildly, directing tentacles to attack and block the path to her; at least, for everyone except me. My heart was pounding, and between the fear, the smell of rot and corruption, and the thick greasy smoke still pouring off darkspawn corpses, I felt absolutely nauseous. But my path was open.

 I tried to avoid watching in a panic as Sten was bashed by a flailing tentacle and knocked unconscious on the floor, and then Jowan slashed across the face, leaving him bleeding and dazed; I cried out as acid was spit directly onto Oghren’s chest and started eating away at his beard, but I inched closer and closer to the Broodmother. Taking a big breath – and regretting it as I coughed out black smoke – I reached up, dug my daggers in, and tried to climb the Broodmother’s back.

 I was insanely glad I was wearing gauntlets – I was pretty sure I’d actually have thrown up if I’d touched her slimy skin with my hands. Using the daggers as handholds and digging my toes in, I slowly ascended. Each time my daggers gouged her skin, she shrieked, though based on the useless thrashing, she still couldn’t really see me. _Either that or she can’t get tentacles that close to her own behind_. Either way, hanging on was difficult, but otherwise my climb was unimpeded. I finally reached her shoulders, and using one dagger to hold on for dear life, I reached around her flabby neck as far as I could and stabbed into the rolls of flesh as deeply as I could. She screamed, and I twisted the dagger before losing my grip. I tried to grab somewhere else, missed, and fell, landing on my back on the ground.

 I was stunned, and the world around me went hazy; disarmed and panicked that the nearly-dead creature would fall on me, I pushed with my legs and scooted back until I bumped up against a wall. Every movement drew pain from my back, but my legs worked and I could still feel them, so I decided it was ribs I’d injured, not my spine. I sat against the wall, trying to collect myself; I saw Oghren finish off a tentacle and then perform a spectacular leap to bury his axe in the Broodmother’s chest. With one final shriek, she fell still, and the remaining tentacles dropped to the ground, limp.

 Alistair rushed over to me; kneeling in front of me and pulling off his gauntlets, he started poking and prodding, looking for injuries. I gasped as I reached out to stop him.

 “Just a rib, I think. I’m okay.” He turned to call out to Anders, and I hushed him. “Let him get to Sten and Jowan first. I’m really alright.”

 “You scared me, climbing up there.”

 “I scared _me_.”

 He leaned down and kissed my forehead gently. “I love you.”

 “I love you, too. Now will you help me up? Let’s go see how everyone else is doing.”

 “Forget it.” Alistair reached down and gently slid his arms under me. I still gasped as he lifted – broken ribs hurt! – but it was bearable.

 Out in front of the Broodmother’s corpse, I could see Sten seated, head in his hands, as Anders finished healing Jowan’s face. He was going to have a slight scar – apparently the tentacles had acid on them or something, and it made the healing harder – but strangely enough the scar actually suited him. He looked more rugged, somehow.

 Oghren was ranting loudly about the state of his beard; the acid had eaten half of it away, and it was now completely lopsided and scruffy. He pulled on the one remaining braid as a few more hairs fluttered down to land on his chest piece. I could make out the words ‘ancestors’ and ‘nug-humping’ periodically, but the rest was just a mumbled mess. For my own sake, I tried really hard not to laugh.

 When Anders finished up with Sten, he came over to check on me. He told me I’d really only bruised myself, and rather than expending even more mana, he handed me a health potion. I slammed it back, and felt better. Anders looked tired, and after another look around to ensure he’d gotten to everyone, he collapsed against a wall and almost immediately fell asleep.

 The rest of us cleaned ourselves up, wiping acid and mucous and black blood off of weapons and armour. Sten retrieved my daggers for me, when I declared I wasn’t getting anywhere near that corpse to get them myself. Zevran offered to trim Oghren’s beard, and I lent him my scissors; when he was done, Oghren sported even red fuzz all over his face instead of the elaborate style he’d previously had. It was interesting, and I thought I liked it; Oghren seemed mostly irate that his beard flask no longer stayed put. I pulled out my little compact with a mirror, and shyly offered it to Oghren. He actually thanked me, before looking critically at himself.

 He sighed. “My face is cold.”

 “It will grow back, my friend,” Zevran declared. “You’ll be back to your warm, irresistible self in no time.”

 “Keep your pants where I can see them, elf.”

 Handing my compact back, Oghren wandered away, muttering to himself. I exchanged looks with Zevran, and we both cracked up laughing.

 We let Anders sleep for a couple of hours; he was grumpy, at first, when he woke, but looked dramatically better. He relented and drank a small Lyrium potion, and was positively cheerful afterwards. Jowan claimed his mana was fine, and declined.

 Gathering ourselves, we finally got ready to move out past the Broodmother’s corpse. Everyone was aware we’d run into Branka shortly, even Oghren, and he didn’t even make any nasty comments when I brought it up.

 And I wasn’t wrong; we walked single-file down a narrow hallway, around a corner, and heard grinding as a door we hadn’t seen rumbled to a close behind us, blocking the return path. I sighed, and Oghren swore. I turned in place until I spotted Branka, high up on a massive boulder off to our left. I nudged Aedan, and slowly everyone turned to face her.

 “Shave my back and call me an elf! Branka? I knew you had to be alive, but I never thought we’d actually find you here.” Everyone shuddered, I’m sure at the mental image of shaving Oghren’s back.

 “Oghren. It figures you’d eventually find your way here. Hopefully you can find your way back more easily.” Oghren started to look uneasy, as he recalled me telling him Branka would react like that. Branka ignored him, turning to Aedan. “And how shall I address you? Hired sword of the latest lordling to come looking for me? Or just the only one who didn’t mind Oghren’s ale-breath?”

 Aedan took a step up to stand by Oghren, somewhat protectively. I knew he was still annoyed at him for being rude to me, but he was still one of our companions, and Aedan wasn’t going to let anyone insult one of ours, drunk or not.

 Oghren sputtered. “Be respectful, woman! You’re talking to a Grey Warden!”

 Branka raised one eyebrow skeptically, refusing to look at Oghren. “Ah, so an important errand-boy, then. I suppose something serious has happened. Is Endrin dead? That seems most likely. He was on the old and wheezy side.”

 Sereda stepped forward, face red with anger. “You shall not talk about my father that way! He gave you everything, and you repaid him by slaughtering your entire house in your mad quest to find the Anvil of the Void!”

 Branka looked at her wryly. “Ah, and a Princess. How precious. If you’re here, clearly things are even worse than I thought. And I thought Oghren was the only one with Daddy issues.”

 Oghren positively growled. “You are impossible! This Grey Warden’s come all the way from the surface to ask your help in choosing Endrin’s successor.”

 Branka snorted. “I don’t care if the assembly puts a drunken monkey on the throne.” I giggled at the image. _Internally, of course, because out loud would just be rude._ “Because our protector, our great invention, the thing that once made our armies the envy of the world-”

 Aedan interrupted. “Yes, yes, the Anvil of the Void. We know! You want to make more golems. You gave your friends – your lover! – to the darkspawn to breed more darkspawn to run the gauntlet of traps. You’re mad and obsessed, we get it.”

 Sereda stood beside him, her arms crossed, hands clenched. “You will pay for what you’ve done here.”

 Branka looked on, unimpressed. “There is only one way out, Warden, Princess. Forward. Through Caridin’s maze and out to where the Anvil waits.”

 She went to turn away, but Oghren called out to her before she could. “What has this place done to you? I remember marrying a girl you could talk to for one minute and see her brilliance.”

 She turned her head slightly, showing just her profile. “I am your Paragon.” And then she disappeared.

 To his credit, Oghren came up to me right away. “I…By the Stone, what happened to her?” He was looking at me intently, and it occurred to me he was seriously asking me the question.

 “I don’t know, Oghren. Nothing happened to her to make her this way, I don’t think. I think she became obsessed, and let her obsession over-rule her good sense. I suspect you didn’t blindly support her; you saw her as Branka, not some almighty deity, and dared to have your own opinion. So she found Hespith, who didn’t see Branka, but only the Paragon, and followed wherever Branka led. She didn’t bring you with her on her search, because she knew you would stop her. I’m…I’m sorry, Oghren.”

 He kicked a pebble near his foot with his heavy boots, never making eye contact with me. I looked down at the top of his head.

 “I suppose I...” he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

 “It’s okay, Oghren. You needed someone to hate, someone to blame, since Branka wasn’t there to be angry with. I get it.”

 He finally looked up and met my gaze. “Well good then. Now we can just move past all this emotional bronto-spew. I’m sure you and the pike-twirler over there have your smalls in a twist to get back to Orzammar. Can’t polish the ol’ anvil until we get there, am I right? Heh heh.”

 I grinned and he harrumphed in my direction before gripping his axe and heading off towards the only opening. I squawked. “Oghren, wait! There are traps, damn you!”

 He paused only long enough for everyone else to pull themselves together and form up.

 Alistair turned to me. “So that was his apology?”

 I laughed. “I’ll take it. Probably the closest he’s ever come to apologising for something.”

 He shook his head, kissed my cheek softly, and then grinned and whispered, “Wanna polish my anvil?”

 I choked, triggering a coughing fit; he just laughed, shouldered his shield, and headed to the front of the group with a blush and a smile on his face.


	85. Resolutions

Chapter Eighty-Five: Resolutions

 As we moved forward, we fought another handful of darkspawn. _I am actually getting sick of fighting darkspawn, surprise surprise._ With so many of us, basically only the mages and Alistair, Oghren, and Sten got a hit in. Alistair smote – _smited?_ – an Emissary, leaving him stunned and with precious little mana for me to gather; I gave him a nasty look, and he chuckled. There were no ogres – _honestly, how do ogres even fit through the ridiculously small, winding tunnels anyway?_ – so the risk was actually minimal.

 There were several traps I wasn’t expecting: Aedan and Zev took turns disarming pit traps, flame traps, and even arrow turrets. The two rogues seemed to have some sort of competition going on for the disarming; _whatever gets them through this sane, I suppose._

 We did have to fight some golems, though the room filled with gas was less of a problem than predicted: Shale walked in, turned off the gas, and the golems didn’t react to her at all. Then the mages froze the golems in place from outside the door, and Shale shattered them. We had to listen to disparaging comments on the weakness of flesh creatures that needed to breathe to survive, but it was worth it. There were some darkspawn corpses on the ground, so we knew that at least a few spawn had made it that far; they were the last we saw, however, and were so old and desiccated that the disgusting miasma of taint that made the rest of the Deep Roads stink was almost completely absent. It was wonderful.

 The next set of golems were a little harder to take down; Oghren, with his massive hammer, and Shale were the only melee fighters able to do much damage. The mages did better – a little ice went a long way – but still. It made me worry about the fight once we reached Caridin. I mentioned my concern to Aedan, and he agreed; we began actively looking for blunt weapons for the rest of us as we walked. Alistair ended up with a mace, and the other melee fighters all either found clubs, hammers, or maces to carry as back-up weapons. They lacked the enchantments of everyone’s primary gear, but were much better than chipping their blades, which was all they’d be able to do otherwise. I didn’t take a blunt back-up weapon, not that it mattered much; I didn’t really have the strength to hit hard enough anyway. I’d be lucky to disturb some dust if I hit a golem with something. I could barely even pick up Oghren’s hammer.

 The spirit anvil puzzle was a total pain. The spirits were able to shrug off a surprising amount of damage, and unlike the hack in game that I’d found, the spirit anvil was only interactable once for each spirit we killed, not four times. Which meant we had to go around, and around, and around killing spirits. And kept getting blasted with lightning while we were at it. Poor Anders had to give up on damage and just focus on healing electrical burns, even though he was one of the more effective at hurting the spirits. Luckily there were a couple of Lyrium deposits around; when he was out of mana, he could just run his fingers over the crystals and power back up.

 Finally the anvil broke, and the massive, four-sided stone face-thing actually fell from where it was anchored. We defeated a final round of apparently very angry spirits, before all of us collapsed, exhausted, on the floor. We’d have paused there and had a rest, I think, except we were all nervous that somehow Branka was going to find a way to sneak around us and get to Caridin before we could. So we picked up our weary selves and worked our way toward the exit opposite of where we entered.

 Down another long, narrow hallway we finally reached Caridin. The room was much like in-game; there was an enormous piece of equipment on a cliff projecting out over a river of lava below, a huge monument to those who’d been sacrificed to create the golems, and a massive, armoured golem, at least two feet taller than Shale, standing at the end of a corridor made up of deactivated golems.

 We approached Caridin, who was far more surprised by our presence than we were by his; Sereda stepped forward, explaining what was happening. As expected, Branka interrupted the discussion, and she and Caridin ended up in a shouting match over the fate of the Anvil of the Void. Any uncertainties regarding my story for Oghren, Shale, or the other dwarves, were cleared up, as Caridin confirmed that dwarves were indeed used to create golems, and except in accidental cases like Caridin himself and Shale, could only function if someone held their control rod, afterwards. So they had no life, no free will, no independence whatsoever.

 This, of course, offended Shale to no end, though Caridin admitted she’d known the consequences when she volunteered. But everyone was horrified to hear that people were forced to go through it after the volunteers ran out. Branka claimed she wouldn’t do that…but Caridin had tried to stop them as well. _There’s just no way this isn’t ending in a fight_.

 I noticed Zev inching behind Branka while everyone talked; Aedan was more animated than usual, trying to keep attention on himself and off of the assassin. I headed over to Oghren, hoping to keep him out of the fight. Regardless of what Branka had turned into, Oghren didn’t deserve to have to kill his wife. When Branka eventually got sick of arguing with Aedan, when she realised she wasn’t going to get her way, she pulled out a handful of golem control rods.

 Zev, expecting it, lodged a small poisoned dagger into her shoulder, through the gap in her armour, strategically paralyzing her arm and taking the control rods from her suddenly limp hand. I covered Oghren’s eyes with a curse as Sereda killed the poisoned, disabled dwarf. The fight took only seconds, and everyone seemed to breathe a great sigh of relief as it was over.

 Except Oghren, of course. In game, with limited dialogue options, I found it was hard to remember sometimes that we’d just killed his wife; looking at his unnaturally somber face, and watching him storm off shouting curses to the Ancestors and anyone else who would listen, it was impossible to forget. I wished there’d been something I could have done to change it…but Branka really couldn’t return to Orzammar, not ever. I let Oghren go, knowing he’d need some time before he was able to talk about it.

 Finally somewhere safe, everyone took the opportunity to rest and relax. I saw Aedan and Sereda talking to Caridin, and then Aedan left the two to continue the discussion without him. We decided to camp for a night in Caridin’s snug little haven, for once not needing to worry about darkspawn. There was even a sink, of sorts, with cold running water, which we used to replenish our water skins, and then take turns washing up with. When I looked surprised, Caridin reminded me Bownammar had been used by dwarves long before he’d set up his gauntlet of traps. He didn’t need the water, but didn’t see the point in destroying it. It wasn’t possible to get truly clean, with a shallow basin of water, no soap, and no cloths, but it still felt heavenly, even cold. Even Oghren grumblingly agreed to tidy up a little bit.

 “What I wouldn’t give for a shower,” I whined, and Alistair grinned at me in agreement.

 “What’s a shower?” asked Sereda. I explained, and she looked intrigued.

 Afterwards, Oghren proceeded to get smashingly drunk and passed out in a corner; the rest of us curled up in our usual puppy pile and went to sleep without even setting watch. For the second night in weeks, we slept without armour, and I could feel Alistair’s warm, hard body wrapped around mine. It was such a change from what I’d become accustomed to that I didn’t even know what to think; I was half-inclined to roll over and do something inappropriate, due to the unfamiliar warmth that spread through me as I snuggled into his embrace. And then I remembered Aedan, my brother, was sleeping less than a metre away…and the impulse disappeared as fast as it had come.

 Waking once in the night to roll over, I noted Sereda still deep in conversation with Caridin. Part of me wanted to be suspicious, but I’d come to trust the pretty dwarf, mostly at least. _If Gorim thinks she’s all that, she can’t be that bad…_ I fell asleep dreaming of golems.

 Sereda and Aedan spent the next day talking with both Caridin and Shale in relative privacy. _What are they talking about?_ Aedan would only wink at me periodically, and gave none of us the chance to corner him and ask questions. Zevran was annoyed; I could tell by the way he started flirting with me, Anders, and almost anyone else who got too close. I’d gotten used to his endless innuendos back when he’d first joined us, but they’d decreased since he and Aedan had gotten serious – he was still a tease, but it was clear it wasn’t serious. Now they were back.

 I sighed and dragged Zev off to the side.

“Stop it.”

 “What are you talking about, bella donna? Stop what?”

 “This. The flirting, trying to make Aedan jealous. He’s not over there getting it on with a golem, for Pete’s sake. He’s doing his job.”

 “Which involves keeping secrets from those he supposedly trusts? That’s hardly encouraging.”

 “What’s this really all about? You’re usually the last one to get uptight about secrets. Especially when it’s clear he’s working on some plan, and you know he’ll fill us in later.”

 He paused for a few moments, and then sighed when I fixed him with a piercing stare. “I do not like these Deep Roads. The odour is unacceptable, and the dampness objectionable. I do not like knowing there are darkspawn all around us, and sleeping in armour, in a pile for mutual comfort. I am…sick of this. I wish to see the sun.”

 I hugged him, and he clung to me just a little too hard. “I know. Me too. I’m sorry, hon.”

 “I suppose I’d best let you go before the dirty look I’m getting from Alistair turns into something more deadly.”

 I squeezed one more time, then released him. “We’ll be done soon. Just hold on a little longer, alright?”

 He nodded and sighed, going to sit alone and sulk. I rolled my eyes and went over to plop myself into Alistair’s lap.

 “What’s got his smalls in a twist?”

 I grinned at Alistair and smoothed the wrinkle on his forehead from scowling. “Claustrophobia, I think. And perhaps…missing privacy.”

 “Privacy?”

 “Mmmm. I miss it too.” I turned to press my front against Alistair’s chest, enjoying his warmth, and ran my hands over his broad shoulders. “I miss you.” I nuzzled my face into his neck. “Sometimes I think I’ll lose my mind if I don’t get some time alone with you.”

 He pulled me close, one hand splayed on my lower back, one cradling my neck. “I know what you mean. Once we get back to Orzammar, the minute we have a door we can close …”

 “After a bath. Maybe two baths,” I interjected, and he chuckled.

 “How about in the bath?”

 “Deal.” I cuddled with him a while longer, relishing the contact, even if it was torturous to suppress my libido…again.

 I suggested a few rounds of sparring, and challenged Zevran to the first fight; the winner would challenge whomever he wished. And the winner, between Zev and I, was a pre-ordained fact, but I managed not to do anything stupid, and at least provide a little bit of challenge. Zevran chose Alistair next, and the two went back and forth for quite some time; it was interesting, watching the totally different styles, but somehow the two men were quite well matched. Eventually Zevran won, with a dirty trick; he put his blade to Alistair’s neck as my handsome warrior cleared dust out of his eyes with a mock glare. He came to sit with me and we watched Sten, Zevran, Bel, Oghren, and even Gorim go a few rounds. Anders healed the combatants between matches, and no one challenged the mages to a duel. _None of us want a lightning bolt up the arse, thanks._

 At supper, Aedan finally came out to join us. Caridin had agreed to forge a crown, he informed us. Sereda was with him, describing what she wanted; I hoped it would be at least slightly more attractive than the ugly golden helmet they used in game.

 Aedan had other news, as well. “Caridin is going to come back to Orzammar with us, after we destroy the Anvil of the Void.”

 Everyone else nodded in acceptance; my jaw dropped in shock. “He… What?”

 Aedan smirked at me. “Sereda’s even more persuasive than I am. She convinced him and Shale that while new golems should not be made, there is already an army of golems to be had, if only they can be gathered from the Deep Roads and control rods can be forged. Almost every lost Thaig has dozens of deactivated golems. Caridin thinks he can wake them, or perhaps even find a way to give them sentience like he and Shale have. The darkspawn tend to ignore the golems once they’re inactive, and given that Caridin’s going to be relatively hard to kill, he thinks he could even go alone with minimal risk. He has pledged to find as many as he can and bring them to aid in the Blight, if he has Sereda’s help and funding in researching the need for control rods.”

 “I…” I stuttered, looking for the appropriate words. I was absolutely astonished. I gaped like a fish for a few moments, and finally settled with giving Aedan a huge hug, which made him laugh.

 “I can’t even say how happy I am! Knowing Caridin would…I just…thank you!”

 “Thank Sereda. I told her what you said would happen, and she talked him into the rest.”

 When Sereda and Caridin joined us, I squeezed her hand and thanked her profusely. No one else was as affected, but then, no one else had ever had to watch Caridin fall into the lava before. I turned to Shale – who actually looked to be…smiling? – and Caridin, who was standing sort of awkwardly at the back.

 “The Warden has convinced me to lead the battalion of my brethren when we fight the Archdemon,” Shale grated out. “I find myself almost grateful to It for the opportunity. I shall stay in Orzammar and assist Caridin in his research, and come to the surface when called with as many golems as can be found.”

 I smiled at Shale, pleased that she’d found a place that fit her. I’d never liked the idea of her wandering off with Wynne trying to be turned back into a dwarf, even if I could guess it was an unsuccessful venture, if the book ‘Asunder’ was to be believed. I wasn’t sure Shale was cut out for a return to ‘bodily functions’.

 “How are you feeling about all of this, Paragon?” asked Gorim. Sereda shot him a funny look, which he ignored.

 “I find it…pleasant, to have a new purpose. For so long, my only goal has been to protect the Anvil, to find a way to destroy it. I had no hope for a future as the only sentient golem, no strength to return to dwarven society. But now, with Shale at my side, and the Queen’s help, I can perhaps atone for the many lives lost to my vanity after I created the Anvil, and since then in search of it.”

 We all shuddered briefly, thinking about Branka and her mad obsession with the Anvil of the Void, and what she’d allowed to happen to find it.

 “We leave tomorrow,” Sereda declared. “Back to gather the Legion, and the Warden-Commander, and then the fastest route to Orzammar we can find. We will pick up any golems we find along the way – Caridin has forged a handful of control rods, in addition to those Branka had – but further searching will wait until I take my throne in front of the Assembly.”

 All eyes turned to Aedan, who nodded his agreement. Sereda’s face flushed, in irritation I assumed; the Princess would not have been used to deferring to someone else’s authority. We spent another night sleeping without armour, and woke early to gear up and pack our things. We set out, after Sereda used Caridin’s massive mallet to shatter the Anvil, which was surprisingly fragile, and pushed the remains into the lava. For the first time, we were optimistic and hopeful about the future for Orzammar and its dwarves.

 The trip back to the Legion’s front line was uneventful. We picked up a couple of golems I hadn’t noticed that had been standing among the traps leading to the Anvil. They were sort of creepy, actually; they only spoke when directly questioned, and even then said very little; they had no apparent personality, no thoughts or feelings at all. They called Caridin ‘Master’ and ignored the rest of us entirely, just walking along silently at the back of the group. They were worse than the Tranquil!

 Caridin paused to pay his respects over the corpse of the Broodmother, who I’d explained was named Laryn, prior to her transformation. His guilt was almost palpable; if he had never created the Anvil, Branka would never have gone to such lengths searching for it. We knew it wasn’t his fault, but convincing him of that was another matter. Oghren was also uncharacteristically subdued; I hoped Aedan would be able to get him to open up later on. Aedan pushed us to move on, trying to distract attention from it.

 I walked with Caridin a ways, largely in silence; we did speak a little, but it was awkward talking to him, between his booming voice and noisy footsteps. I had no desire to bring up painful memories, and he seemed a little bit reluctant to engage in idle chatter. He thanked me for giving Aedan and Sereda the means to help him; I nodded stiffly, not sure how to respond to that. I had a conversation with Shale and Caridin about what I could remember about Cadash Thaig; Caridin, intrigued by the Thaig’s relative lack of darkspawn, promised to take Shale and find it on his travels to locate more golems.

 With no darkspawn to fight and knowing where we were going, we made good time. We pushed past our usual bedtime, but made it back to the Legion in a single, long day. To say that they were shocked to see Caridin would be an understatement; the poor man – golem – actually had an entire platoon of dwarves kneeling in reverence when they learned who he was. Embarrassed, he urged everyone to stand, and spent the rest of the time hiding and avoiding contact with the dwarves.

 Duncan was awake, waiting for us; the smile he gave when he saw us was almost like the Duncan of old, before his encounter with the Archdemon. I ran into his arms and hugged him. He’d put a little bit of weight back on, it seemed, and the dark circles under his eyes had faded a bit. His gaze was clear, and his joy obvious. When I released him, Aedan and Alistair took turns embracing him, and then he went around shaking everyone else’s hands. He told us they’d fought a few skirmishes against the spawn, but not many; Kardol thought that perhaps we had cleared enough of the creatures as we came through that, in combination with the Blight drawing them to the surface, Bownammar might remain largely darkspawn-free for some time.

 We settled in for the night, and I snuggled against Alistair, with Duncan on my other side again after he quaffed one of Anders’ sleeping potions.

 We marched back to Orzammar with a handful of golems, and the entire Legion battalion under Kardol’s command. It took a week – he took us through a few shortcuts we’d missed on the way – but due either to our large numbers or the lower number of darkspawn remaining in the tunnels, we were left almost completely alone. And the few darkspawn we saw often tried to run as soon as our strength became obvious.

 It amazed me – if such a relatively small group, only about sixty strong, could walk through the Deep Roads with such impunity, how had the dwarves ever lost their Thaigs in the first place? When I voiced that question, Sereda replied, and the answer was obvious – politics. Saving one Thaig required those remaining in another to help out – which would leave their own Thaig undefended. Unable to decide together on which Thaigs to defend and which to let go, they lost them all. And gaining them back was much harder; once the darkspawn had become entrenched, it took a lot more work to root them out, and almost everything had to be destroyed or at least scoured with fire before it could be habitable again.

 Sereda insisted she had plans for regaining a couple of the closest Thaigs; by offering Caste changes in return for service, she felt those Casteless who could fight could be organised into military units to do the retaking, and perhaps some of those who couldn’t fight might be convinced to help with scouring the stone with fire. Once done, she intended to gift part of the first Thaig cleared to the Casteless, in a bid to clear out Dust Town.

 “After the Blight,” she clarified, to everyone’s evident satisfaction.

 Faren actually spent a fair bit of time with Sereda, discussing her ideas for the Casteless; she proposed schools, training programs, and offering dowries for Casted families that took a Casteless as a spouse; she also planned to change it such that the children could choose which of their parents’ Castes to take, instead of having it forced upon them because of their gender. That meant that any children of a union with a Casteless dwarf would elevate the entire family. A noble hunter could guarantee being raised up, just by being pregnant, without having to wait to find out the gender of their offspring, and no women who became pregnant by a Casteless man would be discarded if they refused to abort or kill their sons.

 She also proposed to allow people to maintain their caste even after a divorce, to prevent abuse of desperate Casteless dwarves. That possibility hadn’t even occurred to me, but apparently it was all too common among nobles with their noble-hunter mistresses.

 It still seemed a bit discriminatory, to me, but Faren was actually quite impressed by the depth of the plans Sereda had thought out. I supposed that, compared to how things were, anything would be a dramatic improvement.

 Gorim didn’t seem especially pleased to see Faren spending so much time with Sereda, but he also looked incredibly proud, listening to her describe the way she saw Orzammar’s glorious future; her face lit up, and she gestured with her hands as she spoke, the most animated I’d seen her since we’d met. He seemed to be distancing himself from her, though; I noticed that he often slept in the pile with all of us, while she tended to curl up alone. It hurt to watch.

 Oghren, on the other hand, stumbled along as if in a stupor, though for once I didn’t think alcohol was the problem. I’d seen it before, with acquaintances on Earth – he was depressed. Not that I could blame him; between his wife leaving him, cheating on him, turning into a crazy person, and then being killed, he had more than enough to be bothered by.

 I pulled Aedan into a conversation with Duncan and Oghren one day while walking.

 “I have been thinking some more about how to bring down the Archdemon if we manage to prevent the darkspawn from taking Denerim,” I began. They all nodded. A flying target was going to make a difficult kill. “It occurred to me that I saw a weapon, back where I came from, that might be of use if it could be adapted. And I wondered who would be in the best position to do the needed adaptations.”

 I went on to describe bolas. They were a mostly South American native weapon, though I thought that they might also have been used in Africa and Asia, and I’d seen similar things being used by the comic book character Batman. They consisted of weights, attached by ropes, that could be thrown to wrap around the legs of a creature and prevent it from getting away. The versions I could recall had either two or three weights, but either way the ropes would tangle and the creature would fall. I wondered whether something similar could be used to foul the wings of an Archdemon – but somehow, if it was to work, they’d need to be launched. Hand-throwing would not be accurate enough, nor able to make the distances required for a flying creature.

 Oghren claimed that the smith caste in Orzammar were likely to be the best placed to develop such a launcher, and Dunc an agreed. Not only were they experts at making crossbows, but most of the ballista-type weapons in Thedas had been created by them as well. Sereda, overhearing the conversation, promised to help get us in touch with a crafter of some sort who could possibly make it work.

 The week passed quickly; the Legion were nothing if not efficient at setting up and taking down camp, and with the Wardens to sense the darkspawn, it was even easier to progress. Everyone seemed to have an assigned task, and they carried them out with a minimum of fuss. It was an impressive feat to see sixty people ready to go with that degree of military precision. I’d worried that getting that many people moving would take a lot of extra time in the morning, but usually the Legion was waiting on us, not the other way around.

 The closer we got to Orzammar, the lighter the oppression felt; I watched our entire group, and even several of the Legion, come out of their shells and be positively joyful as we approached. Zev and Anders were definitely the most noticeable; the two men were practically running towards Orzammar, with smiles and springing steps that made me grin.


	86. Foot, Meet Mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the full, unedited version of this chapter, with explicit sexual content. If you prefer to read a version without explicit sex, please check out my profile on fanfiction dot net or livejournal under the same user name!

Chapter Eighty-Six: Foot, Meet Mouth

 Even though it was getting late when we came to the well-lit area that I knew led to the gates to Orzammar, no one was going to stop. We pushed on, too eager to be out of the Deep Roads to camp, and arrived at the gates in the middle of the night. As such, they were closed and locked, but Duncan knew the secret to opening the complicated structures, and he showed each of the Wardens so we would all be able to do it in an emergency.

 He explained that the doors were anchored by dozens of feet of circumferential metal more than a foot thick, which was melded right into the stone all the way around using some strange dwarven technology he couldn’t explain. They were unbreachable even by ogres and magic, and to anyone’s knowledge, the darkspawn had never managed to tunnel around one.

 There were two very surprised guards, who looked like they’d woken from a nap, when the doors at their back swung open, and more than fifty dwarves and a group of Grey Wardens poured through. As previously agreed, almost all of the dwarves wore full helmets, so that Sereda and Gorim could pass unnoticed. Scrambling over themselves to welcome us back to Orzammar, one of the guards ran to get the captain, though Duncan tried to convince them not to bother.

 The captain was less than impressed by the late-night disruption, but was polite enough when he realised who Duncan was. He urged us to head to the estate, which was not difficult to convince us to do, and we parted ways with the Legion. Kardol promised to come to the estate the next day, and went his own way.

 When we finally reached the estate, we crept in quietly, hoping not to disturb anyone. We needn’t have bothered – apparently gossip travels fast in Orzammar, and Mistress Leta was expecting us. She was in a housecoat and had her hair up, but despite that was her efficient, no-nonsense self. She had us leave everything except personal items in the common room, vowing to have someone take a look in the morning and clean what could be salvaged, burning the rest.

 She organised us into lines for bathing in each of the three rooms containing a bathtub. With a sparkle in her eye, she informed us that no one would be sharing a bath that night, since there were too many of us who needed in there and we tended to take too long when we bathed with friends. I was impressed she managed not to look directly at Alistair or me while making the announcement, and was too tired to be too disappointed by bathing alone.

 I was allowed one of the first baths – Mistress Leta made the others draw straws, but ushered me directly into a room with the water already drawn, and Sereda, after the requisite kneeling and bowing, was put in the room next to mine. It was probably sexist, and I didn’t care in the least. I found a bucket and filled it with water, first just rinsing myself off fully dressed, before I peeled myself out of my now-wet leathers and did it again naked. I piled the destroyed armour in a corner – it was definitely going to need burning – and proceeded to use a washcloth and another bucket of water to scrub the worst of the filth off my skin. It had been more than a week since we’d used the rune-sink in Bownammar to clean up, and even that hadn’t been thorough. The black water I sluiced down the drain was evidence enough of that. I washed my hair in the bucket next, using a harsh soap meant for that exact purpose.

 Finally satisfied that I at least wouldn’t have to sit in a tub full of filth and taint, I climbed in. The water was bordering on too hot, that perfect temperature where it makes skin tingle without causing too much pain, and I sank down into with a sigh. I didn’t soak for too long – there were thirteen people who needed a bath as badly as I did, plus a mabari and a handful of golems who’d need to be scrubbed – so after a brief dunk, I scrubbed myself clean again, using the nicer soaps Leliana always seemed to find us, and then washed and conditioned my hair and got out of the bath. I left brushing my teeth ‘til last – I’d long ago run out of toothpaste, but had gotten some baking soda from the kitchen and used that.

 All I had clean were dresses and nighties, so I slipped into the nighty picked out by Mistress Leta and opened the door. I’d beaten Sereda out, and could hear the angry shouting of what must have been Oghren being forcibly bathed by Mistress Leta. Poor Alistair had drawn the shortest straw, apparently, and was going to have to wait to bathe last. I resisted hugging him and soiling my nighty, and instead headed to our room to wait.

 I was exhausted, and as much as I knew I wanted Alistair, I was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen before I’d gotten some rest; somehow, though, despite the fatigue, I wasn’t ready to lay down and go to sleep, either. I tried, briefly, but the bed was too soft, the blankets too warm, the pillows rustled too noisily…I was up again in less than five minutes, trying not to hyperventilate. I puttered about the room, adjusting pillows and blankets and just generally wasting time, noticing all the while that the walls seemed awfully close, and were pushing in on me more and more as time went on. It was embarrassing, as I knew in my head everything was fine, but my heart rate skyrocketed and I felt short of breath; I had to escape. With a panicked squeak, I slipped out the door into the corridor.

 I could hear all the commotion from the bathing rooms down the hall, and decided against going down there; I’d end up getting dirty again and needing another bath. _And I don’t want to admit that I’m too scared to lay down alone._ Instead I wandered, eventually making my way to the library, where I chose a book somewhat at random and curled up in a convenient armchair to wait for everyone to be done.

 Sereda joined me a few minutes later; she also picked a book, and sat staring at the pages without reading. We sat together in companionable silence until others slowly started filtering in. Bel came in, nodded at both of us, and tucked himself on the floor in a corner, not even bothering to pick out a book; Sten walked in and stood quietly against a wall, looking strange and uncomfortable without armour. Faren was next, followed by Duncan, Jowan, Anders, Gorim, Aedan, Zevran, Prince, and finally Alistair.

 No one spoke. _This is surreal._ I ran my fingers through Alistair’s soft, damp hair as he sat at my feet and put his head in my lap; I squeezed a hand here or there, but otherwise all was completely silent. Once everyone had settled in, sprawled on the thick carpet or various pieces of furniture, I finally fell asleep.

 Duncan woke us once with ungodly screams, remaining confused for some time afterwards; Anders went in search of one of his sleeping potions, and once Duncan was out cold, we all settled in again. Leliana, Solona, and Morrigan found us there the following morning, waking us with a tinkle of laughter. All of us who’d been in the Deep Roads, with the exception of the golems who were apparently being washed in the dining hall, were there, blinking owlishly at the intrusion in our much-needed, rather uncomfortable sleep.

 Grumbling and generally cranky, everyone rose and limped towards the dining room for breakfast. No one explained what had brought us all to sleep in the library when we had perfectly good rooms with beds just down the hall; I wasn’t sure I knew, if I was honest. I just knew I couldn’t stand being alone, and apparently neither could anyone else. I suppose it was just another puppy pile – on carpet in a library, but still.

 Once everyone had been fed, we spent about half an hour telling the stories of all our adventures in the Deep Roads, and making introductions, for the benefit of Sereda and Caridin. Oghren wandered in after a while; the only one not to join the puppy pile in the library, he’d apparently passed out drunk in his room after being washed. I got the impression he didn’t remember the bath – he wasn’t angry enough – though clearly he should have suspected something, since he wore nothing but a pair of oversized trousers that kept threatening to fall right off.

  _They’d have to shave more than his back to call him an elf._ I choked back a laugh, averted my eyes, and continued in the lively discussion with the girls we’d left behind.

 It turned out they’d had some adventures of their own; Leliana had acquired a nug as a pet, unsurprisingly named Schmooples, and Solona had been convinced to do every annoying side quest in Orzammar that I remembered from the game, and then some. She'd agreed we would - eventually - escort Dagna to the Circle Tower, rescued a woman from Dust Town whose family had tried demanding she abandon her child in the Deep Roads, run the Lyrium smugglers who'd tried to take over from the Carta out of town, and made an agreement with Brother Burkel that she'd support his bid to open a Chantry if he agreed to run a school for Casteless children in Dust Town. And then she'd hounded every Casteless family in Dust Town to ensure they'd send their child to the new school.

 Kardol arrived as we were all admiring Schmooples the nug - though I was fairly certain that, for the dwarves at least, admiring was mostly imagining the beast roasted on a stick - and he laughed with us as Leliana scooped her beloved pet up and carried him off to her room before anyone could go beyond imagining.

 Given that everyone who'd come with us to the Deep Roads was still exhausted, we decided that we would petition the Assembly for a hearing the next day, and then boarded ourselves in and refused to answer the door. I had dreams of alone time with Alistair, but was interrupted by Leliana, Solona, and Morrigan, who dragged me off to talk privately. I shot an apologetic smile at Alistair as I was whisked away; he grinned and me and blew me a kiss when no one was looking.

 It seemed being basically alone together had been good for the three women; Morrigan had never seemed to like Leli, but she tolerated her now, and Leli had stopped making comments about how she would ‘fix’ Morrigan’s appearance. Morrigan seemed to have some grudging respect for Solona, while Solona and Leliana were giggling together like old friends.

 The girls seemed concerned at how I was coping since seeing the broodmother, and I shuddered as I described my horror to them again. Nothing could quite compare to how disgusting, and smelly, and slimy that creature was, and how glad I was we had slaughtered it. And then I remembered having to fight more of them in Awakenings, and had to close my eyes and forcibly relax before I threw up.

 Once satisfied that I was managing, and that being alone with all those men for such a long time hadn't damaged me in some way, Leliana and Morrigan wandered off, leaving me alone with Solona. The mage had a curious look on her face, and I waited silently to hear what she would say.

 When nothing seemed forthcoming, and the pregnant silence grew uncomfortable, I spoke.

 "Solona? Everything okay?"

 She jumped, and I stifled a giggle. "Um, yeah. I'm fine. I just..."

 I took pity on her. "You want to know how Anders handled it down there?"

 She nodded, and I saw unshed tears glisten in her eyes. "He's never liked dark, confined spaces."

 "No, he sure doesn't. But he was okay. Better than I expected, actually. Maybe it was having all of us there, maybe it's that the Deep Roads aren't quite as claustrophobic as a dungeon cell, or maybe it was just a facade to cover up his discomfort, but he did almost as well as any of us."

 "He left me a letter, before he left." I nodded; he'd told me. "I haven't opened it yet. I...Do you..." She trailed off, looking helpless.

 "Do you want me to open it for you?"

 She looked startled. "Would you?"

 I nodded. "I would, though I don't need to, honestly. Want me to tell you what it says?"

 She thought about it for a minute. "Yes. Please."

 "It says that he still loves you, and that he wants a chance to explain. There were circumstances you aren't aware of, things that happened before you met, that drove his behaviour; and rather than explain it, he tried to protect you from it."

 She scoffed. "Excuses."

 I shrugged. "Yes, they are. He was stupid, and he should have known better. That said, you sure you don't want at least an honest apology?"

 "The circumstances…you know? He told you?"

 I nodded.

 "And what do you think? If it was you, would you forgive him?"

 "I...no. Not exactly. But I'd feel a whole lot better about myself knowing why he did it, and knowing for sure that it wasn't about me. Wasn't my fault, somehow. Being a victim is worse than being an unfortunate bystander while other things were happening."

 She was quiet, and I waited. _She has to decide on her own. I won't push. But Maker, I hope she at least talks to him._

 "I...need to think. And open that letter."

 I smiled sadly. "You want me to stay with you? Or I can get Leliana, or Jowan?"

 "No, thanks. I think I need some time alone."

 She got up and walked slowly up to her room, and I watched her go. She looked eighty years old, and tired. I didn't blame her.

 I walked through the dining room on my way to my own room, nodding to the collection of people there. Anders and Jowan were looking between me and Solona's retreating back with an obvious question on each of their minds. I shrugged. _Not my place to talk about it._ They were seated with Bel, Oghren, Sten, and Faren, who appeared to have initiated a drinking contest - at least, the dwarves had, while Sten watched with a disapproving stare. I assumed Duncan was sleeping, or maybe talking to Kardol or the messenger to the Assembly, and that Zev and Aedan had disappeared into their room to do what I wanted to be doing with Alistair. I wondered where Sereda and Gorim had gotten off to until I noticed one additional large bedroom on the main floor was occupied. I shrugged, hoping they knew what they were doing.

 Everyone who’d been in the Deep Roads had shaved and had their hair cut, and all looked back to their normal selves. Most of the normally clean-shaven men had kept their facial hair short-ish during our expedition – I’d brought along my scissors – but they’d gotten scruffy towards the end; Duncan had been positively bushy, and I imagined he’d cleaned up some as well.

 Morrigan found me in the hallway on the way to my room. The witch had waited for me, trying to look casual but failing; I wondered if she wanted something.

 “Hey, Morrigan.”   Tried to keep my tiredness out of my voice, not wanting her to take it personally. “How were things here, really, while I was gone?” I raised my eyebrows.

 She laughed. “’Twas fine. Putting up with the Orlesian fawning over that hairless bunny-creature was a trial, and the insipid Circle mage insisted on performing every do-gooder task she could find, but compared to being trapped in the Deep Roads with broodmothers, I do not feel I should complain.”

 I chuckled. “That bad, hey? I hoped…perhaps you might come to appreciate each other a little while we were gone.”

 She tossed her head, her hair down for once and somewhat wild around her face. “I suppose the mage has some merits; she taught me a new spell. It may prove useful against the darkspawn – or amusing against Anders, should he bother either of us again.” She smirked. “And Leliana did offer me this in return for helping her keep the nug safe as we left Dust Town.” She fingered a beautiful golden bracelet on her wrist briefly. I knew it was the closest she’d come to admitting she liked someone.

 I admired the bracelet appropriately, and then looked at her speculatively. “Did you need something from me?”

 “No, no. I…” she looked uncomfortable, but then steeled herself, drawing up to her full height with a sniff. “I merely meant to tell you I am happy you are back.” She paused, looking away and flushing slightly as she realised how that must sound. “Because it means we will be leaving soon, of course. I am tired of this underground city.”

 “Of course,” I murmured, squeezing her hand once, lightly. I knew she meant she was happy to see me safe, though she would never admit to such a mundane feeling. It made me feel warm and fuzzy, though I knew she would be mortified if I made anything of it. I resisted the urge to hug her.

 She took her leave awkwardly, and I watched her walk away with a bemused smile.

 I slipped into my room to find Alistair pacing impatiently. He looked acutely uncomfortable, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around his waist, tucking my nose into his neck and inhaling deeply. He smelled like soap and man and that smell that was all Alistair, with not even a whiff of the miasma of the Deep Roads, and he felt like sunshine in my veins. I sniffed again appreciatively _. Just his scent is making me wet. Maker, it’s been too long._ He settled his arms around me and rested his head on mine with a sigh.

 “I don’t like it here,” he complained. “After everything…it’s too dark, too close…”

 “I know. Me too. I think that’s why we all ended up in the library last night. Being together keeps the scariness at bay.”

 “I want to see the sky.”

 “Yeah, that would be good. At least I get the feel of sunshine on my face; you don’t even get that.”

 He pulled back and grinned at me. “Happy to oblige, ma’am.” The Starkhaven accent was back, and his grin turned into a smirk as I moaned softly.

 I reached up, grabbing a handful of sandy hair, and dragged him down for a needy, open-mouthed kiss. His arms tightened around me, hands clenching in the fabric of the nighty I still wore; I wriggled against his chest, which felt hot and hard through the thin cloth.

 Easing off, he gentled the kiss and softly stroked my back. I sniffed in irritation.

 “Alistair?”

 “Yes, love?”

 “Make me forget?” _Forget the Deep Roads and Branka’s horrible death gurgle and the broodmother and the fact that very soon, one way or the other, we were going to lose the only father either of us had ever known…_ I tugged his hair, taking advantage of his gasp to sweep my tongue into his open mouth, enjoying the taste of him, strong and sweet and heady.

 He pulled my nighty up, lifting me to wrap my legs around his waist. Pressing me against the wall, he released me with one hand and I felt him fumble with his trousers. I tugged at his tunic, pulling it up over his head while he ditched his pants.

 His erection was warm and leaking against my skin. I gasped as he adjusted us and slid into my tight channel, clinging to him and sucking his lower lip with abandon. He stumbled back until he fell onto the bed, still buried deep inside me, and I was suddenly riding him, cowgirl style.

 His hands cupped my breasts, kneading and tweaking; breaking the kiss, he pulled me to him and nipped at my neck. “I’m not…” he paused, groaning, as I started to ride him, hard and fast, “I’m not going to last. It’s been too long…”

 “Me either. Shut up and don’t stop,” I gasped.

 He chuckled darkly, moving his hands from my breasts to my waist, then one of them dipped down further to find my hard, swollen pearl. I picked up the pace, slamming myself down again and again as he massaged it in time. I felt him shudder, knew he was close; I leaned back, pulling away from his hungry mouth, letting his length stretch and press into that delicious spot inside me. He thrust with his hips once, twice, and then on the third, pinched my clit between his fingers; I stiffened and came, writhing and undulating as he emptied himself inside me.

 I collapsed down on his chest, panting, and he held me while we recovered. I rolled to one side and snuggled up against him, resting my head on his shoulder, and we held each other and talked and giggled like something out of a romance movie. Before long, he had other ideas, and his hands began to stray as he captured my lips in a soft, loving kiss.

 We made love again, this time slow and soft, teasing and touching, drawing it out; when I came, with him buried inside me, pinning my hips to the bed, he gasped my name and came apart, his shallow thrusts prolonging my orgasm until I had to either stop and breathe, or pass out. We fell asleep, then, tangled together, sweaty, and sated.

 When I woke, I had no idea how much time had passed, but I was hungry, so that was a good indication that it was probably at least lunchtime. I disentangled myself from Alistair, pulling my nighty on over my now-chilled body, and poked my head out our door, hoping to see someone who had stone sense and could tell me the time. No one was there, but a covered tray sat on a small table outside our door. _Mistress Leta strikes again, I assume._ I grabbed it and brought it inside.

 “Oh, you brought food? Excellent.”

 I jumped, startled, and then giggled at Alistair’s chuckle. “Not I. I’m assuming Mistress Leta. I wonder what time it is?”

 “I really wish they had Chantry candles in Orzammar.”

 “What’re Chantry candles?”

 “Oh, you know, the ones with hours marked off on them. You can tell what time it is by which mark the candle’s burned down to. They have a real name, but I can never remember it.” He sat up, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed, and looking around for trousers.

 I shook my head, pushing him back to sit against the headboard, still naked. I set the tray beside him and pulled off my own nighty, climbing up to straddle his legs. And then, also naked, with the evidence of his arousal growing between my thighs, I fed both of us, slowly, allowing the anticipation to build, while making small talk, and generally driving Alistair insane. By the time the last bite on the tray had been eaten, and I had meticulously wiped both of our mouths with the napkin, I was desperate. I couldn’t even say what I’d eaten; it didn’t matter, as his hazel eyes, pupils blown wide with desire, raked over my body. Before I could even respond, he’d lifted me off him, placing me down on the bed, and lowered his face to my core.

 He brought me to one orgasm and then another with his questing tongue and dexterous fingers, but instead of sated, I was steadily becoming more and more desperate. I pulled his hair, tried to drag him up so he would take me, but he resisted. Finally, I pulled away and turned over, onto my hands and knees, rear end in the air, face on the pillow, and tried to be irresistible.

 “Please, Alistair.” I shuddered in anticipation and arousal, feeling my own juices coat my upper thighs.

 His answering growl was feral, and he gripped my hip with one hand, lining himself up with the other, and entered me in one smooth stroke. I clenched the pillow with both hands and wailed my satisfaction as he filled me. I felt one hand on my shoulder, and he pulled me up to press my back against his muscular chest. His hips stilled, but he reached around and tweaked a nipple with his fingers, and I gasped.

 “Is this what you wanted, little minx?”

 I nodded and writhed in his arms, trying to grind myself against his erection. He circled my waist with his arm, holding me still, and I huffed my objection. He chuckled, his breath gusting past my ear.

 “You tease me through that entire meal, make me want you, make me wait, and now you expect to be given what you want?” He flicked my nipple again for emphasis, and I twitched.

 I’d have been frightened, if his tone hadn’t been smug; I could hear him grinning. _Two can play at this game, buddy._

 I reached up, draping my arms up behind myself, one hand caressing his neck, the other fisting in his hair, and stretched, making my breasts jut forward proudly; I felt him throb inside me at the sight. And then I pulled out the big guns, and used my internal muscles to massage his hard length rhythmically.

 He groaned and his hands gripped me tighter, and then he began thrusting, finally giving me what I wanted. Losing his patience, he picked up the pace, driving into me relentlessly, and I thrust back against him as well as I was able. Releasing his grip around my waist, he stroked a thick finger over my slightly-chafed clit; I squealed and came, twitching and shuddering in his arms, and with a growl he released himself, filling me yet again.

 After recovering from our exertions, we lay, sweaty and dishevelled, his head resting on my belly. I stroked his hair, much longer than I was used to – apparently Leli and the scissors hadn’t caught up to him yet – and he practically purred.

 “I suppose we should get up and see what’s going on.”

 “I suppose.” I sighed. “Need a bath first, though.”

 He climbed to his feet and offered me a hand, which I took, groaning under my breath from the sore muscles we hadn’t used in a while. He quickly dressed while I hunted for some clean clothes, finding a pair of panties and a linen dress. I took the opportunity while he was distracted to down one of the little bottles of healing potion I kept just for that reason, when I suddenly realised things were too quiet. I looked up to see Alistair watching me, eyes dark, a scowl on his face.

 “What’s that for?”

 I tried for nonchalant. “Nothing.” I shrugged.

 “You expect me to believe you’re taking a healing potion for no reason? Last I heard they weren’t addictive, and you haven’t been injured in a while…”

 “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” I pulled the dress over my head to avoid making eye contact.

 “Don’t even try it, Sierra. I hurt you.” The self-recrimination in his tone was obvious, and I sighed and turned to look at him.

 “No, you didn’t.” I held my hand up to forestall his objection. “I just get…a little chafed, I suppose. I want you, need you – I swear the taint makes me insatiable – but it leaves me a little worn out, after. That’s not your fault, and from what Zevran says, it’s normal and it gets better with regular, ah, performances.”  
“You talked about this with the _assassin_?” His tone was irritated, and I sighed. He’d stopped calling Zevran that for the most part.

 “No. He just…in Denerim, without me even saying anything, he gave me a potion after. So after a few days of that, I asked. He assures me it’s completely normal to be a bit stiff and sore. Especially because of your Grey Warden stamina. And I actually like the feeling, but I don’t want Aedan to notice. Because reasons. So I take a small potion just to ease the stiffness a bit.”

 He turned away, shoulders stiff, tension radiating out every pore. I sighed, and walked up behind him to press my face to his back and wrap my arms around him. After a few minutes, he finally relaxed a little and covered my hands with his own. “Never again,” he whispered.

 I pulled away. “Never again?” My eyes were wide in horror.

 He turned. “Not like that. I’m just never going to hurt you again.”

 “Alistair, I am not some delicate flower. I’m perfectly capable of telling you if you go too far, or if something hurts.”

 “I’m not taking the chance. I can…I can be gentler. I will be.”

 I scowled. “Don’t bother. Because if you’re going to treat me like some porcelain doll, despite my assurances that I’m fine, then I’m not going to bed with you. You’re either with me all the way, like I am with you, or not at all. I thought we were past this condescending bullshit.”

 I grabbed my toiletries and turned to storm out the door.

 “Sierra…wait.” He grabbed my arm before I could leave.

 I glared down at his hand, then up at his face. _He’s making puppy dog eyes at me, damn him._ “Let go of me.”

 “Not until you listen. Just for one second.”

 I pulled my arm out of his grasp. “I’ll give you five. Better make it good.” I crossed my arms under my breasts, shoulders hunched protectively.

 “Look, I’m stronger than you. I don’t want to hurt you, especially by accident, but I can’t help it when I know you won’t tell me.”

 “I’ll tell you when – if – it’s a problem, I can promise you that.”

 “And by then it’ll have been too late, and I’ll already have hurt you.”

 “Okay, let’s just say that it’s even possible you’ll do something to hurt me eventually. Which I doubt very much, by the way. Is it going to be worse than breaking my leg? How about the Joining – will it be worse than that? Worse than a smite? I can deal with a little pain, if we somehow get too crazy.”

 He was still scowling, still upset. I sighed.

 “You think you’re so much stronger than me?” He nodded, looking confused. “You think strength in your _arms_ is all that matters? Fine.” I dropped my bath supplies, instead reaching for my spare armour. I stripped out of my dress and started pulling it on, piece by piece. “I’ll make you a deal, then. If you soundly trounce me in a sparring match, you win and you can treat me like a porcelain doll for the rest of our lives. But if I can hold my own – not win, but make a real fight of it – then you drop this, right then and there, and I never hear about it again.”

 “I…if I’m trying not to hurt you, I am certainly not going to fight you, Sierra. Not for real.”

 “Put up or shut up, Alistair.” I fixed him with a grim glare. He cowered back, and I sighed. “Fine, if it worries you, you may name a champion, coward.”

 “I’m not going to get someone else to try to fight you either!”

 “Then I guess when you said ‘never again’, you really meant it.”

 “No, I-“

 “I’m going to find us somewhere to spar. I expect you, in your armour, in ten minutes.” I turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind me


	87. Right to Assemble

Chapter Eighty-Seven: *Right to Assemble

 

I went down to the dining hall, finding Solona, Leli, Duncan, and Zevran sitting around chatting. They looked up in surprise as I came through the doorway, armoured and armed.

 “Duncan, is there somewhere here to spar?”

 He stood, walking up to me, a puzzled look on his face. “There’s no need to train today, Sierra. We just got back-“

 “It’s not for training. I need to prove a point. Actually, I’d like to have everyone there for this, if I could. So where? Is there a training yard somewhere?”

 “We usually use the space reserved for the Royal Guard, but I don’t relish the idea of going there. I think there’s a practice ring at the Proving Grounds, and since there’s no Proving today, we might be able to use that.”

 “Great. Can you all spread the word? I’m taking any challengers in single combat.” I scowled at Duncan, who took a step back in surprise. “But Alistair is first.”

 I headed to the Proving Grounds and managed to find someone to give me permission and access to the practice ring. And then I took a few minutes to warm up, stretching and walking around, getting used to the space. It was in the bowels of the island the Provings sat upon, and was a dusty, echo-filled chamber with a roughly staked circle.

 I was nervous; I definitely was not the best fighter in the group. I was likely the worst, with the possible exception of Jowan and Anders, whose magic I could neutralise. But I needed this. I didn’t need to win, but I needed to gain some respect, and stop the group from treating me like a very clever, but helpless child. I concentrated on my breathing, trying to keep the panic at bay.

 Aedan was the first to find me there when he arrived, with Zevran in tow.

 “What’s this about, Sierra?”

 I noticed neither man was in armour, and couldn’t decide between being relieved or offended. “Just making a point that needs to be made.” I shrugged off further questions until everyone else arrived. They trickled in, in ones and twos, a few in armour, most not. Sereda and Gorim wore armour and full helmets, but I knew they had to whether they planned to challenge me or not, just so they could arrive unnoticed.

 Finally everyone seemed ready. Alistair was the last to arrive, expression adorably confused, shoulders drooping, but armour, weapon and shield ready. I cleared my throat.

 “I’ve decided I am finally sick of being treated like a child, or worse, some fragile, breakable toy. Today is all about breaking everyone’s illusions about that. To that end, I will take on any challenger who wishes to spar with me. Alistair has won the _privilege_ of going first.”

 I stepped into the ring, walking up to Anders, who, we had discovered, knew a spell to blunt weapons. He blunted my daggers, and I turned, getting into a defensive posture. I risked a glance at Aedan to see his jaw clenched, muscles twitching; Zevran just looked amused. And then I noticed Oghren taking bets, and I laughed.

 Alistair allowed his sword to be blunted, then reluctantly turned to face me. He held his sword up in a salute, and I grinned, rushing him before he could drop his arm. I slashed the underside of his upper arm, spinning to end up behind him, jabbing him once in the kidneys as well. He grunted, in pain and shock, I assumed, and then turned, readying his shield.

 I’d had problems with shields since I’d started my training with Duncan, but I’d learned, and learned well. Shields were something the darkspawn made good use of. I feinted high, then tucked low and rolled, trying to take Alistair’s feet out from under him. He blocked, but it was a close thing, and I allowed myself to huff a brief laugh. _Maybe I can do this_. I backed off, waiting for him to make a move.

 He made a weak swing at me, which I easily deflected with my crossed daggers, then jabbed at his armpit with my off-hand. He was wearing his heavy dragonbone, and just couldn’t keep up with my speed in light leather. I spun away again. The next time he came after me, I leaped out of the way and clipped him in the jaw with the back of my hand, sending him reeling. I realised, to my dismay, that he was going easy on me.

 “Fight me, damn you.”

 “I’m trying,” he whined.

 “No, you’re not. You’re a better fighter than this.” I stopped, straightening up, walking to the centre of the ring slowly. I dropped my daggers at my feet and turned my back on him, looking at him over my shoulder. “Maybe you can hit me now, Princess?” I echoed his words from the last time we’d sparred while angry, and I saw his face redden as everyone around snickered.

 And then he was moving, graceful and strong, and made to strike at my unprotected back. Aedan looked furious and scared; I winked at him as I dived out of the way of Alistair’s swing, grabbing my daggers as I went.

 The fight was far more serious after that; we chased each other around the little arena for a half hour. He managed to nail me with a couple of solid shield bashes, which I rolled out of, winded; I made him drop his sword twice with strikes to his wrist and arm. He finally knocked me over and put his sword to my neck.

 “Yield,” he panted.

 I grinned. “Never.” I lashed out with my feet, wrapping my legs around his knees and knocking him down, batting his sword away at the same time with my dagger. He fell and landed, half on me, half off, and I shouted with pain as I felt a rib crack. He groaned and rolled off me, collapsing onto his back beside me.

 “Tie?” I offered, breathless with pain.

 “Deal.”

 “And…?”

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll stop treating you like you’re fragile.”

 “And you’re going to stop worrying about hurting me?”

 “No, probably not. But I’ll shut up about it unless you tell me otherwise.”

 “That will do. Hey, Alistair?”

 “Yes, beautiful?”

 “Could you get Anders for me? I think I broke a rib.”

 Choking on a laugh that bordered on hysteria, Alistair climbed to his feet and gestured; I felt healing magic roll over me as I laid there, and my chest slowly stopped aching. When I smiled, Alistair offered me his hand, pulling me to my feet and into a bear hug.

 “I love you, Sierra.”

 “I know.” I kissed his nose. “Now let’s see who else wants to kick my ass.”

 He laughed.

 The rest of the afternoon was actually sort of fun; I sparred with Leli, Duncan, Bel, and even Sten. I didn’t win any of the fights, but I made it at least a reasonable challenge, and I didn’t make a fool out of myself. When there were no more takers, a few of the group went up against each other in the ring, and the betting continued. By the end, everyone was laughing and chatting, heading back to the estate in the Diamond Quarter in good spirits.

 “Hey, Oghren?”

 “Yeah, Toots?”

 I grimaced, but ignored the irritating nickname. _At least he isn’t angry anymore._ “Who won the bet? The first one, on me and Alistair?”

 Zevran spoke up from behind me. “I did, bella donna. Oghren bet that Alistair wouldn’t fight at all; everyone else bet against you.”

 “But you wagered on me?”

 “I’ve told you, cara mia – you scare me far more than any Crow. I know, or at least suspect, what you are capable of, when you put your mind to it.” He winked and jogged ahead to catch up to Aedan.

 When we arrived at the estate, Alistair pulled me by the hand to our room, helped me out of my armour, handed me a clean dress – not one I’d seen before, and I wondered whether Leliana or Mistress Leta had been shopping – grabbed my toiletries, and dragged me to one of the bathing chambers. He picked me up and lowered me into the bath, then knelt beside the tub to gently wash me. It was sensual, not sexual, and I purred under his tender ministrations. When he washed my hair, I was so relaxed, if it hadn’t been for Alistair holding my head, I’d have drowned.

 Finally Alistair climbed in, and I got to return the favour. His skin was smooth and slick under my hands, and I probably washed him more than necessary, but he didn’t complain. His face was flushed, though, and his engorging length told me he’d noticed.

 When I was done playing, he pulled me to sit between his legs, my back against his chest, and he just held me.

 “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to condescend.”

 “I know. It’s not just you, either. My brother needs to seriously take a breath sometimes. And I know I’m not some warrior princess – I have no illusions of becoming a wandering hero or something. But I can pull my weight, at least, and I need to be allowed to do it. I love you, and I love that you care about me, about hurting me, but I also need to live my life without someone constantly second-guessing me.”

 “It matters that much to you? That I don’t hold back when we’re…” he blushed, “together?”

 “Not only then, but yes. I love how I feel when we’re together. I love the feeling of total openness, of being more than just me, but as part of _us_. I don’t want to lose that because you’re holding back. I even love the stiffness after. And just because my skin has trouble keeping up with my stamina doesn’t mean we have to change – I just have to take care of it after.”

 He scoffed. “How can you love the stiffness?”

 “Haven’t you ever been a little sore or chafed after sex? Every time I move the wrong way, I get a vivid mental image of exactly what it was we did that gave me that ache. I feel deliciously naughty all day.”

 He laughed, but his erection, which had been flagging, indicated his arousal at the thought. “I am going to make you feel deliciously naughty right now, if you’ll let me.”

 “Like I’d ever say no to that?”

 He picked me up, turning me to face him, and as I straddled his legs, I sank down on his length, both of us groaning at the contact. I rode him to completion, and he didn’t seem to be holding back; I flopped against his chest after in the cooling water, sated and exhausted.

 After washing up again and getting dressed, we had supper as one big group; sixteen people, a mabari, and a handful of golems take up a lot of space. We agreed to go to the Assembly in the morning, all fully armed and armoured, with full helms so Sereda and Gorim could remain incognito. Caridin was going to ask both candidates to come down to the floor, where it was Zevran’s job to get close to Bhelen, preventing him from getting into a fight with a blade to the neck and paralysis poison, if necessary. Everyone else would defend against Bhelen’s toadies who may or may not attack even after the Prince had been taken out of the fight.

 “I want him alive, Zevran. Please, don’t kill him unless absolutely necessary.”

 “It’s not my usual sort of assignment,” he drawled in his thick Antivan accent, “but I’m sure I’ll manage to contain myself somehow.”

 We all broke out laughing. Sereda blushed, muttering apologies.

 That night Alistair and I slept, tangled together and peaceful, still contentedly stiff from our earlier exertions.

 Mistress Leta had apparently had all of our armour cleaned and oiled, and our weapons sharpened, while we slept. _That woman is amazing!_ I wondered if she ever slept. Even Oghren, short fluffy beard finally starting to grow out again, looked clean, well-dressed, and impressive. He was even sober, for a change. We formed up as Caridin’s honour guard, following the enormous golem through the streets of the Diamond Quarter to the Assembly Hall. There were plenty of people out and about – rumours of the Paragon’s existence had spread like wildfire, as we’d intended – and many of them pointed in shock as the armoured golem stomped along. A ripple of amazement went through the crowd, followed by cheering for their long-lost Paragon returned home at last.

 We waited in the foyer as the Deshyrs were seated in the hall; several of them had tried to sidle up to Caridin, or even some of the rest of us, probing not-so-subtly to try to pry out who the golem would choose. We all just pointedly ignored them, to their obvious disappointment. Finally everyone was seated, and Steward Bandelore announced us.

 Caridin strode forward, the rest of us on his heels, and the Deshyrs all rose and bowed to the Paragon as he descended the steps to the central dais where invited guests were allowed to speak.

 When everyone settled again, Caridin raised one hand. “I am Caridin, a Paragon of Orzammar. I have been alone in the Deep Roads since the Anvil of the Void was used to force me to become like this.” He gestured at his armoured, stony arm. “The Paragon Branka is dead, killed in the Deep Roads trying to find me. These Grey Wardens completed her task. The Anvil has been destroyed, at my request; never again shall it be used to enslave dwarven souls.”

 A murmur rose in the chamber, everyone reacting with shock and surprise at the news. Caridin paused to allow it to settle again.

 Steward Bandelore stepped forward, bowing low to Caridin. “Does anyone here deny that this is, indeed, the Paragon Caridin?”

 No one spoke. Bandelore bowed again and stepped back. “Please continue, Paragon. You know what the Assembly is waiting to hear.”

 “You have proven yourselves incapable of ruling over Orzammar. This should never have been allowed to continue. I will break the impasse so Orzammar may finally move forward. Prince Bhelen, Lord Harrowmont, please step down.” He gestured to a spot in front of him on the dais.

 Surprised, the two men rose uncertainly while everyone else fidgeted impatiently. Harrowmont stepped down first, followed by a rather sulky looking Bhelen. Harrowmont bowed deeply to Caridin when he arrived on the dais; Bhelen’s bow was perfunctory and somehow mocking.

 Caridin turned to Shale, who carried a small box; at his nod, she handed the box to Bandelore, who opened it.

 “I have forged a crown for the next leader of Orzammar.” He reached out and lifted a golden hoop from the box where it sat. It was sparkling with gems, a slender golden circlet with an intricate design at the front; it looked like something a jeweler would have made, not a smith. It was beautiful, catching the light of the torches within the Assembly chamber and refracting them out to form tiny rainbows on the walls.

 It looked…delicate. For one moment, my rare, well-hidden girly instincts kicked in – I wanted to try it on. Badly. I shook my head and focused on Bhelen and Harrowmont. Zev had wormed his way behind Bhelen, who was staring at the crown like it was poisonous. Harrowmont had a sardonic smile on his face; he made eye contact with Duncan, and the two exchanged barely perceptible nods. Caridin continued to hold the circlet aloft, silent.

 Finally Bhelen broke the silence. “But who will wear it?”

 That was our cue. As one, we all reached up and removed our helmets. Sereda, standing directly behind Caridin, handed hers to Gorim, and then stepped around the golem, shaking out her long red hair. Several gasps could be heard from nearby Deshyrs.

 “You didn’t think it would be you, did you, dearest brother?” she whispered, quietly enough that only those of us on the dais could hear. She stepped between the two contenders for the throne and turned to face Caridin.

 “I have revoked the exile of Sereda Aeducan from Orzammar, on my authority as a Paragon.”

 Bhelen sputtered, face turning an alarming scarlet colour. “You can’t do that!”

 An old, white-haired, almost skinny dwarf in lavish noble clothing stepped out of a small alcove near Bandelore and cleared his throat. “The Memories confirm that a Paragon may indeed revoke political exile, Prince Bhelen. From the time of Paragon Lantena-“

 “Thank you, Shaper Czibor,” interrupted Bandelore, with a roll of the eyes that indicated he’d had to interrupt just such a diatribe many times before. I had forgotten that the Shaper attended the Assembly as well. “Does anyone have legitimate grounds on which to appeal the revocation of Sereda Aeducan’s exile?”

 No one spoke, yet again.

 The Shaper glared at Bandelore, and then stepped down to the dais as well, taking the crown from Caridin and looking up at the golem expectantly.

 “Then I, Paragon Caridin, to whom the task of choosing a King for Orzammar has fallen, instead choose a Queen. All hail Queen Sereda Aeducan!”

 Harrowmont immediately dropped to his knees, as did many of the assembled Deshyrs. Bhelen, however, shouted out, “No! This will not be allowed to stand.” He drew a sword, but Zevran stepped up behind him and held a dagger to his throat from behind.

 “Call off your associates, brother dearest, or I’ll have my friend there kill you. Your choice.”

 Dwarves all around the gallery had drawn weapons, an impressive display of maces, swords, and axes; but there were nineteen of us, including two golems and a mabari, and several of the other Deshyrs were armed as well. All of them hesitated, weighing the odds, and looked to Bhelen for a response.

 He tried to move, and Zevran gripped him tighter, the tip of his dagger just barely digging in. “This dagger is coated with a powerful paralyzing agent, Your Highness,” Zev said quietly, sneering on the title, “so if you move any further, I will stop you. All it will take is one little cut. Already you feel weaker from just a puncture, no?”

 Bhelen looked around frantically, seeming to realise that no one would come to his rescue; his sword dropped to the stone with a clang, and everyone else who’d drawn weapons followed suit.

 Bandelore called for guards, and those who had drawn weapons were bound and taken away; Bhelen remained on the dais, his hands bound behind him. Harrowmont was then asked if he would step down as a contender for the throne, and he did so with grace.

 Sereda was crowned, and a round of cheering went up in the Chamber. When everyone had settled, Sereda took her place on the throne, leaving Bhelen still standing. Bandelore banged his staff to get everyone’s attention.

 “Lords of the Assembly, my friends,” she smiled and nodded to us, “we have much work to do. If everyone would find seats, we can continue. Unless you have other places you need to be,” she continued, clearly aimed at us.

 We quickly deliberated. Aedan, Duncan, Faren and I wanted to stay for the discussion, Leliana appeared fascinated by it all, and Alistair and Zev had no intention of leaving me or Aedan alone. Gorim wasn’t going to leave Sereda there either. Caridin was given an honoured place at Sereda’s side, and Shale stood with him. Everyone else was going to be bored; Duncan suggested they go shopping for new packs, clothes, runes, and other supplies, since so much of our stuff had been destroyed in the Deep Roads. They left, and the eight of us remaining found seats. Kardol, who’d been standing at the back unobtrusively, joined us.

 “First, the matter of Prince Bhelen. I would like to declare a vote that he be exiled to the Deep Roads, and spend the rest of his life fighting darkspawn until his death. Unless someone would like to speak on his behalf?”

 He paled, looking around for someone to speak; no one did for an agonising moment. Sereda exchanged a barely perceptible nod with Kardol, who cleared his throat and fidgeted, drawing attention to himself but not saying anything. Bhelen looked at him, looked back at Sereda, and slumped.

 “I would agree to dedicate myself to the Legion of the Dead, to commit to fighting the darkspawn, in an attempt to regain my honour and spare my child from shame by association.”

 Kardol stood and bowed. “I accept, on behalf of the Legion of the Dead. We will hold your funeral tomorrow, and you will no longer be Prince Bhelen Aeducan, but just Bhelen.”

 Sereda gestured to the guard. “Take him to the dungeon for the night. The Legion can collect him in the morning.”

 Kardol inclined his head in acceptance. Murmurs arose at the unusual arrangement; I thought it was only fitting, given how he’d had Sereda jailed before her exile.

 Bhelen was hustled out of the Chamber by the guard. He looked back once, almost pleadingly, at Sereda, who finally nodded her head. The tension in his shoulders released, and he followed the guard willingly out.

 “Next to the matter of the succession. To avoid future recurrences of the contention we’ve just experienced, I propose that the succession be recorded in the Memories, and that it need be changed in front of witnesses including the Shaper, the Assembly Steward, and at least three members of this Assembly.”

 They voted, and it passed unanimously.

 “As such, I would like to declare my succession now, with all of you as witnesses.”

Bandelore had parchment, a quill and ink, and a small table brought out for the Shaper.

 “I declare the unborn child of my brother Bhelen as my heir, whether the child is male or female, until such a time as I have heirs of my own.” Faren grinned broadly, and Sereda winked at him before continuing. “I propose a guardianship and regency for the child in the case of my death prior to his eighteenth year comprised of three members: Warden Faren Brosca, the child’s uncle, Lord Pyrral Harrowmont, and Steward Bandelore. I also propose his mother, Rica Brosca, be adopted into House Aeducan where she may raise the child with my help.”

 “You propose we raise the female child of a casteless woman to the nobility? On what precedent?” shouted out one Deshyr.

 “My Lords, change must come to Orzammar; whether we die out or progress is entirely up to us. Over the next few weeks and months, I will be bringing many proposals to this Assembly to change the culture by which we have allowed ourselves to decline. I suggest you think very carefully about what it will mean should you deny the changes. Our birth rates are dropping; too many of our warriors die in Provings, never mind those that fall to the darkspawn. Our merchant and smith castes are stifled by lack of trade. We are slowly going extinct. If we do not change, we will die.

 “Allowing the child of a casted dwarf, regardless of gender, to assume the caste of either parent is the smallest of those changes that will need to be made. So yes, I propose to allow my niece, if the child is female, to follow me in succession, and her mother to be adopted to raise her properly.”

 Bandelore banged his staff again to restore order, as people began talking amongst themselves, or shouting out incomprehensible responses. When quiet was restored, Bandelore called for a vote on allowing Sereda’s future niece (even though I knew it would be a boy) to be considered an Aeducan.

 The vote passed, almost two to one for, but there was a definite hardcore group of dwarves who were against. I was surprised it passed by such a large margin, given how tradition-bound the dwarves always seemed, but Faren pointed out something I’d not considered – a good number of the nobles had children with casteless women, and their daughters were all living in Dust Town with their mothers, if there had been no male children. This would set a precedent for them to be allowed to acknowledge their daughters and mistresses.

 The most surprising thing, for me, was that Harrowmont voted in favour. His expression looked like he was sucking on a lemon, but it seemed he took his vow to support Sereda if we were able to find her seriously. His cronies looked as surprised as I, but followed his lead; I giggled, imagining that would be an interesting conversation later.

 Sereda’s succession wishes were recorded in the Memories, and the discussion turned to the Blight. Sereda confirmed Orzammar’s commitment to aid against the Blight; she secured Kardol’s agreement to send the vast majority of the Legion of the Dead forces, as well as agreeing to send most of the Warrior Caste. She made a motion to have any casteless who wished it to be tested for combat ability, and those who were able to fight would be outfitted and sent as a unit of their own; any who served (or the families of those who died on the surface) would be promoted to a new class Sereda proposed, essentially a lower level or subsidiary of the Warrior Caste. The motion passed easily; I guessed that the nobility were only too happy to get rid of some casteless to die on the surface, and hadn’t considered what would happen to all of those people once the Blight was over.

 She also easily obtained the approval necessary to commission Caridin to find golems in the Deep Roads and reactivate them, as well as research ways to remove the need for control rods. The dwarves had seemed disappointed at the loss of the Anvil of the Void – and why wouldn’t they be? They hadn’t seen the consequences – but that disappointment was wiped out at the prospect of finding a golem army some other way.

 Shortly thereafter the Assembly was called to a close. I didn’t think the Deshyrs could have stood any more revolutionary ideas out of Sereda, so it was probably a good thing. Sereda invited us to a gathering of the nobility at the Palace that evening, and we gratefully accepted.


	88. Unexpected

This is the original, explicit version of this story.  If you prefer a version without the naughty bits, check me out at fanfiction.net under the same username!

 

Chapter Eighty-Eight: *Unexpected

 We went back to the estate with just enough time for all us girls to get ready to go out. Gorim came with us, to my surprise; I assumed he would stay with Sereda. Leliana, Solona, and Morrigan had been shopping while the rest of us had been in the Deep Roads, and each had a beautiful silk dress of some sort or another to wear; I had my burgundy and gold one from Denerim that I’d never worn.

 The guys all went and bought dressy clothes while the girls got ready. We all congregated in my room, as it was the largest. It took both Leli and Solona to get me in my gown, but I had to admit it was worth it. Once on, with the laces done up and corset in place, it looked amazing. I spun, admiring myself in the full length mirror Mistress Leta procured from somewhere. I had cleavage, a narrow waist, flaring hips…the sleeves emphasized my muscular arms ( _muscles! Who’d have thought the fat business consultant would ever have muscles?_ ) and left my pale shoulders bare.

 Solona’s dress was elegant, a green silk that looked lovely with her blonde hair and milky, freckled skin; Morrigan’s was tight-fitting and black, showing a lot of cleavage, but less than her usual robes. Leliana’s was a lovely royal blue, in a similar style to mine. Both the bard and I had significantly less cleavage than either Solona or Morrigan, so rather than flaunting it, we were faking it. But it worked, and there couldn’t have been a more attractive group of women for miles.

 Leli then spent forever messing with my long, curly brown hair. She piled it on top of my head in a complicated knot, with tendrils and curls escaping to frame my face. Sitting still for long enough was driving me crazy, but again, worth it in the end. She then artfully applied some makeup – kohl around my eyes, some rouge overtop of some sort of foundation, and a light powder to hide the sheen. The other girls did their own hair and makeup, and looked beautiful. I wondered what Anders would think of the pale, ethereal Solona – I was sure they’d never dressed up like that in the tower.

 Finally ready, we filed out of the room and headed to the Dining Room. All the men were there waiting, as well as Caridin and Shale who had elected to stay in the Estate while they planned their foray back into the Deep Roads. I followed Leli through the doorway, and she stepped aside, revealing me to the room. Aedan smiled broadly, looking proud, and winked at me; Zev whistled, making me blush. Alistair appeared thunderstruck; he stood up, mouth agape and speechless as he stared at me.

 He looked good; in a black doublet with burgundy and gold piping to match my dress over dark trousers, his muscles bulged against the fabric, and his hazel eyes shone. He’d had his hair cut, and had shaved; I noticed vaguely that all the men had, but really only had eyes for Alistair. I walked up to him, and he instinctively reached out for my hand; I laced my fingers with his and just waited for the shock to wear off. I was blushing at the attention, and could feel everyone’s eyes on us, waiting to see what Alistair would do.

 He tried to speak a couple of times, but eventually just leaned forward, tilted my chin up with his free hand, and kissed me. The kiss deepened as he pulled me closer, his hand slipping behind my neck to hold me in place while his tongue swept through my mouth, leaving me breathless. When he released me, I heard the cheering and catcalls I’d blocked out during the kiss, and blushed again.

 Leliana tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned to look at her; she examined my hair briefly, and then my face, especially my kiss-swollen lips. “I knew you didn’t need lip colour.”

 I laughed nervously, while Alistair cleared his throat, blushing awkwardly. Finally he offered me his arm, and I took it gladly. When I turned, Anders was staring at Solona with an expression twisted with both disbelief and torment, while she pointedly ignored him. My heart ached for them both.

 Everyone finally ready, we set off to the Royal Palace. “You look amazing,” Alistair whispered, and I blushed again.

 “You clean up pretty good yourself. Makes me want to skip the party altogether.”

 He looked down at me, eyes darkening with desire. “I will if you will.”

 “I’m pretty sure Sereda would kill us.”

 He huffed in annoyance, and I giggled.

 We arrived at the Palace and were announced; Duncan entered first, and the rest of us trailed in after. The Palace was somewhat like the rest of Orzammar – stone walls, stone floor, stone ceiling – but was considerably more ornate than the rest of the city. There were elegant tapestries decorating the walls, some depicting various scenes from dwarven history, others just beautiful abstract patterns. The floor was covered in places with mosaic tile, and the ceiling had elaborate designs in what looked like gold filigree.

 Sereda greeted us as we entered, wearing a beautiful gold and white gown and her crown; she looked lovely, and serene. Getting things sorted out and back into the Palace obviously agreed with her. She took Duncan’s arm and dragged him around to meet everyone, while the rest of us spread out into the crowd.

 There were a lot of nobles present, several of which I recognised from the Assembly, and some who I didn’t; many of them greeted us warmly, but a noticeable minority sniffed and turned away, rudely ignoring us. Almost all of them treated Faren as if he didn’t exist; I was offended, but he seemed to find it amusing. Gorim muttered names to Aedan – I tuned them out, knowing I’d never remember later anyway. Kardol was there – Sereda had told the Shaperate about the temple in Bownammar, and they would apparently reinstate the Legion as a noble house.

 Some of the dwarven men kept shooting salacious looks at Morrigan, Leli, and Solona; those that looked too hard at me suffered Alistair’s glare, and soon ceased. Leli used it, making rounds, laughing and flirting, every bit the bard; Morrigan returned every gaze with a frosty glare, while Solona just ignored it and stood aloof and alone.

 Wine was being served on trays by servants dressed in uniform; I helped myself to a glass. It wasn’t as good as the Antivan wine Zevran found for me in Denerim, but it was acceptable. Alistair grabbed himself a mug of ale from a bartender standing near a keg in one corner. It was nice – weird, but nice – to be able to just relax and enjoy ourselves for a night. There was a formal dinner for us and a few of Sereda’s most noticeable supporters; she’d obviously warned the kitchens about Grey Warden appetites, and there was enough even for my ravenous group of friends. Despite being hungry, I was only able to eat a little before my dress felt too uncomfortably tight to continue.

 Faren introduced us to a very pregnant Rica, who wore a simple silk dress and tried to stay hidden for the most part. She appeared flustered and nervous, not used to noble company, and returned to her chambers after only a few minutes. Faren escorted her, taking the opportunity to catch up.

 After dinner there was a dance and more schmoozing. Alistair and I twirled inexpertly around the dance floor, laughing and giggling to ourselves, and then watched as the others took turns dancing with Solona and Leli. Sereda claimed Gorim for one dance, and it was obvious that every dwarven eye was on them the entire time. She looked blissful in his embrace; he just looked uncomfortable. The gossip around the room certainly wasn’t very supportive, though there were a vocal few who didn’t think it was anyone’s business who the Queen danced with – or slept with, for that matter.

 After a while, the group of us found ourselves mostly alone in a side chamber where we could relax and chat, away from the music and judging eyes. There were a few chairs, claimed by Duncan and the other girls. Alistair stood with his back against the wall, his arms around my waist as I leaned back against his chest. Leli was the last to join us, trying to detach herself from a visibly drunk dwarf who was a little too handsy. Once she arrived, and our group was alone in the room, Alistair walked us over to the middle of the room before clearing his throat. Everyone stopped chatting to look at him expectantly.

 “I know that you all know how I feel about Sierra,” he began, putting his hand up to stop anyone from commenting, “and no, Oghren, I am not going to discuss what I do with her legs, so just drop it now,” I choked, wondering when they’d had _that_ discussion, “and I tell Sierra all the time how much I love her. However, I think it’s maybe time that everyone knows, and I want to make it official before I mess it all up again.”

 Everyone chuckled, and he blushed.

 He took my hands, and knelt in front of me, leaving me suddenly breathless, unable to move or speak, completely stunned. “Sierra, you are the best thing that has or will ever happen to me. Even with all the death, and fighting, and tragedy, you found me, and made me into a better person. You forgave me my mistakes, when I clearly didn’t deserve it. I can’t imagine my life without you, and I don’t want to have to imagine that, not ever. So I was…I mean, I’m sort of hoping…”

 He took a deep breath and let go of one of my hands, reaching into a hidden pocket in his doublet. When he brought it back out, he held a gold ring, with a small diamond solitaire in the centre of a setting that looked like a rose. “Sierra, will you marry me?”

 I stood there for another moment, too shocked to respond. I had truly never expected to get married; growing up, all I saw were broken homes with broken children, and those who were still together were miserable. I’d never even wanted that, love, marriage, babies, the whole bit – not until I met Alistair. Since we’d gotten together, I’d allowed myself to feel hopeful for the future, but never really stopped to think about what that future would look like. Marriage? Where would we live? Would we have _babies_? Looking at him, gorgeous face upturned, serious expression turning nervous, biting his lip anxiously, I realised that none of that mattered. Where he was, was home, and I would gladly do anything just to have him be mine forever.

 With a sob, I threw myself into his arms. He scooped me up, getting up from the floor in one smooth move; I had my arms around his neck, clinging like I’d never let go.

 “I assume the lady agrees, yes?” Zevran commented drily, and everyone chuckled.

 I continued to cling to Alistair’s neck, but loosened my grip enough to come face-to-face. We pressed our foreheads together as tears streamed down my face; I mentally cursed the kohl-liner Leliana had applied around my eyes, as I was sure it was probably running down my face. “Yes.” I kissed him, feeling his arms tighten around me briefly. “Yes, yes, yes.” I punctuated each acceptance with a kiss. My tears stopped flowing, and he slowly lowered my feet to the floor; I still clung to him, face pressed into his chest, breathing in his scent – the scent of safety, of love, of home. Finally he took my hand, sliding the ring onto the appropriate finger on my left hand. It was a perfect fit, and looked absolutely gorgeous.

 “I wanted to get a bigger diamond, but Leli talked me out of it,” he whispered.

 “It’s perfect. Bigger would have been very impractical, not to mention gaudy. I should have guessed Leli was involved.” I grinned, and Alistair returned my giddy smile. “I love you. I can’t believe you pulled this off without me knowing!”

 “It was meant to be a surprise.” He kissed me gently. “I love you, my future wife. Wow, that sounds sort of…Wife. Wiiife. Yeah, that’s going to take some getting used to.”

 I giggled and pulled him in for another kiss. When I finally looked up, everyone was smiling at us; Duncan’s and Aedan’s eyes were suspiciously bright, and Leliana and Solona had each shed a couple of tears. Anders’ jaw was clenched, looking jealous and forlorn; I couldn’t bring myself to be sorry for him at that moment.

 Aedan pulled me away from Alistair – _my betrothed, and how weird is that_ – to grab me in a bear hug. He then turned to Alistair, holding out his hand; the men grasped forearms. Aedan pulled him closer in an awkward man-hug, and I heard him whisper, “You hurt her and I’ll end you.”

 Alistair replied, “I know. And I’ll hold you to that.”

 I rolled my eyes and punched both of their shoulders in exasperation. “I’m standing right here, you know!”

 Aedan grinned at me and stuck out his tongue; the three of us broke up laughing.

 We were both hugged by the rest of the group – well, except Sten, of course, who just nodded his head gravely, and Morrigan, who wouldn’t initiate a hug, especially with Alistair, for anything. And Oghren, who was in a drunken sleep under the table, again.

 When Anders hugged me, he apologised for his envy; I didn’t hold it against him. I could understand. Poor Bel blushed so hard and stuttered so badly when he tried to congratulate us that I ended up rescuing him with a hug.

 Sereda joined us briefly, wishing us well; she spent a couple of minutes talking quietly in the corner with Gorim. I couldn’t hear what was said, but it wasn’t good. He just kept shaking his head, and she got more and more agitated until she finally broke out in tears. He reached up and stroked her cheek gently, wiping away the tears, and then finally turned and walked away, hunched over like he had gained fifty years in ten minutes.

 My happy night, my happy ending, wasn’t going to be happy for everyone, it seemed.

 Shortly thereafter Alistair and I excused ourselves; we got a lot of knowing glances and winks as we left, but I didn’t care. Everyone knew what we were going to be doing all night, and I couldn’t find it in me to be bothered by that at all.

 Offering me his arm, Alistair walked me back to the estate; if I hadn’t been holding on, I was sure I could have floated there on my own personal cloud. Mistress Leta was waiting up in the dining room; when we walked through the door, she demanded, “Well?”

 Alistair laughed, and I held out my hand, sparkly ring flashing; she squealed and hugged me, then with a nudge and a wink informed us there was a snack waiting for us in our room. She headed to bed. We went to our own room, and I opened the door to find a bit of a shock. We had a small table set up with two chairs, a platter of food just waiting, an open bottle of wine with two glasses, and the bed was covered in rose petals. The smell in the room was heavenly. The only light came from the hearth, which was lit and crackling merrily; the chairs that normally sat in front had been moved, and a thick blanket was laid out on the stone floor looking inviting.

 I gasped, and Alistair shot me an impish grin. “Like it?”

 “You…really? You did all this?”

 “Well, technically, Mistress Leta did all this, with Leliana’s help or advice at least, but yes, it was my idea.”

 “So sure I was going to say yes, were you?” I teased, and he flushed slightly.

 He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding making eye contact. “Well, not really, no, but Leliana was pretty sure, and I definitely hoped…”

 I threw myself into his arms, pulling his head down for a kiss. “If there was any doubt in your mind that I’d say yes, you’re in so much trouble…”

 He kissed me back, and then took advantage when my mouth opened, pressing his tongue in to stroke against my own, drawing a low moan. He pulled away after a moment, taking off his doublet and hanging it carefully before turning to pour wine and gesture to the blanket by the fire.

 “Have a seat?” He reached out to hand me a glass of wine.

 I shook my head. “I’d like to change first. You go ahead, and I’ll be right there.”

 I managed to work my way out of the dress without help– Leliana had informed me that she ordered the dress specially so that was possible, since normally a formal gown would require a lady’s maid to get out of, and I was unlikely to have one of those on the road. _I_ _’m unlikely to have one of those ever, honestly._ I hung the dress and then pulled one of Alistair’s cotton tunics out of the armoire and slipped it over my head.

 I walked over to settle on the blanket beside a very smug-looking Alistair, who handed me a glass of wine after giving me a lascivious look. I felt a bit awkward about being mostly undressed, when he was still fully clothed in essentially a tuxedo; his eyes seemed drawn to my bare legs as if by magnetism. I was vaguely embarrassed, for no reason I could explain given our relationship, but it was also sort of sexy, though, and I resolved to tease the poor man for a while as we sat.

 I sat leaning back on one hand, legs crossed in front of me, and sipped my wine. One shoulder and the slope of my breast peeked through the wide neck of the tunic. “So what do you think? Will Sereda work out?”

 “Hmm?” He looked distracted, staring at my legs like that. He dragged his gaze up to my face. “Oh, yes. She’ll do fine. Certainly better than that Bhelen. I was worried for a moment that Duncan was going to recruit him into the Grey Wardens. Being technically dead will be perfect for him. And Sereda seems to have a good handle on how to manage her people, as well as some brilliant ideas. She’s a better monarch than Cailan, for sure.”

 The bitterness in his voice surprised me, and I realised that we hadn’t really talked much about Cailan, or rather, Theron, since he had extended the olive branch in Redcliffe. “Do you hate him so much?”

 He sighed. “I don’t, not really. It’s just…he had everything. Everything I didn’t. Parents who loved him. Education, training, advisors, a wife…and he still messed it all up. How could he have been so blind? Such a glory hound? I’ll never understand. I had nothing, before the Wardens, and even I could see how vain, how easily manipulated he was.”

 “He was also sheltered, though, Alistair. Something neither of us can claim, and from the outside, it seems like it would be a good thing…but it’s often not. He never saw danger. Never fought anyone who would actually fight back. Never knew that life isn’t idyllic and easy for most people. He has never wanted for anything, which means he values nothing. If it takes you a year to save up to buy something, you treasure it once it’s finally yours. If you can just wave your hand and have it handed to you, you never understand what it’s worth.

 “It’s not his fault that he trusted Loghain. Who wouldn’t? He wasn’t smart, I agree, but the fault lies with your father, with Loghain, and with Anora, who sheltered him from life and never gave him a chance to learn anything. I bet at some point he was at least vaguely interested in actually ruling Ferelden, but instead of encouraging that, I imagine Loghain and Anora brushed him off and sent him outside to play, like a child. Why would he see the world in any way other than as a child after living like that for twenty, thirty years?”

 “I suppose. It’s just so…”

 “Disappointingly human?”

 He grinned at me. “Yes, that.”

 "Don't tell him that." We shared a grin. "Do you think you'll be able to put your resentment for your father aside and try to get know your brother?"

 He sighed. "I'm going to try. It's hard though. I keep thinking...how could he not know? Why didn't anyone care? I know you say my mother and Maric both loved me...but that's hard to really accept. And it makes me resent Cailan for having what I didn't."

 "I truly don't believe he knew, though. Honestly. When I accidentally spilled the beans...he was shocked. Apparently he went around harassing the castle staff to figure out who I was talking about. I guess he never looks in a mirror, because honestly, how anyone could miss the resemblance is beyond me."

 He shifted closer to me on the blanket. "Oh, I see how it is," he teased. "You only love me because I look like the King."

 I giggled. "Yes, that's right. Actually, I'm mostly hoping to cash in on it - we could go around the country doing impersonations for coin. Much more lucrative than this Grey Warden business - how much do we get paid anyway?"

 He laughed. "Not much. Though the way Aedan does it we don't need a salary - we'll be rich just from the rewards claimed for doing everyone's dirty work." He shifted even closer, so his long leg laid on the blanket alongside mine; I could feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of his pants. "But, you know, I don't really want to talk about either of our brothers right now, do you?"

 I leaned against his side, resting my head on his shoulder. "Not even a little bit."

 "Were you truly surprised about this?" I glanced up to see him looking insecure, biting his lip and avoiding my gaze.

 "I had absolutely no idea. But it isn't because I didn't want to, I just figured that we'd wait until after the Blight to get ourselves sorted out. I just haven't let myself think that far ahead, yet. But I am incredibly," I got onto my knees facing him, reaching out to cup his cheek with my hand, forcing his eyes to meet mine, "incredibly glad you did. You're perfect, you know that? And all mine. It's official, even. Too late to back out now!"

 He reached for me, and I went to him, straddling his lap, the soft fabric of his pants rubbing against my inner thighs, his arms around me, big warm hands splayed on my hip and back. "Never. I told you. I've seen what it's like to imagine a future without you in it, and I don't want to live that way. This," he took my hand and held it up so my ring caught the firelight, briefly showering rainbows around the room, "is me making sure I never have to. I love you, Sierra."

 I kissed him then, carding my hands into his thick hair, tracing his lip with my tongue. His hands roamed my body, kneading and pulling me closer to him, skimming near my breasts and gripping my ass, and I could feel the evidence that he was as desperate as I to get more intimate. I leaned back and smiled at him.

 "You, love, are wearing entirely too many clothes." I began unbuttoning his shirt, and he just watched me with dark eyes, distracting me every now and then by stroking my bare thigh or ass. I struggled to get all the buttons undone, and then began kissing my way down his neck to his golden chest as it was bared for me. He gasped as I began licking and sucking one of his nipples, and finally managed to shrug the shirt all the way off.

 When I gently bit into the aroused little bump with my teeth, he groaned and pushed me away, grabbing the end of the tunic barely covering me and pulling it up over my head, leaving me nude in the firelight. His gaze raked over me, his breath fast, his pupils blown with desire, and I surrendered to him as he pulled me to him for a savage kiss. Then he mimicked my actions and began tracing down my neck with his lips and teeth, making me twitch and grind against the bulge in his trousers nestled between my thighs.

 When he reached my breast, instead of attacking just the nipple, he sucked as much of the flesh as he could fit into his mouth, while his tongue lashed the erect nub on the end, and I cried out, writhing in his lap while he held me relentlessly and switched sides, repeating the process. I ground against him harder, reaching for my orgasm, when he suddenly stopped, lifting me and laying me down on the blanket in front of him. I growled.

 "You're right, I am wearing too many clothes." He grinned at my frustrated moan, climbing to his feet to unlace his trousers and toss them onto a chair. Standing naked in the firelight, his skin glowing gold, his perfect chiselled body on display, he was erect and slightly tousled and completely gorgeous. I whispered a brief prayer of thanks to whatever deity created him and then allowed me to be near him.

 I had the urge to taste him, to apply my lips and tongue to the parts of his body I hadn't yet, but when I sat up, he shook his head, dropping to his knees at my feet and pressing me back down. "As much as I love your mouth, not today."

 He leaned forward to crawl up my body, stopping only briefly to run his tongue into my wet slit, making me gasp and buck, before crawling even further. Still on hands and knees, he kissed me, and I wrapped my legs around his hips and dug my fingers into his shoulders trying to pull him closer.

 He resisted, breaking the kiss to chuckle at me. "Not yet. First, I want you to come for me."

 I moaned as I felt pressure against my slit, and then the warm, hard length of him parted my lips and slipped through my wetness without entering. I tilted my hips, trying to capture him, but he resisted and I felt the head of his cock nudge against my clit. I shuddered, unmet need now too desperate for release, and he chuckled darkly and did it again, and then again, grinding himself against my sensitive pearl.

 "Come for me, Sierra. I want to see you come apart." And then he leaned down and bit my nipple, rubbing himself against me again, and I did. I cried out his name and spasmed, fire racing from my clit and abused nipple through my body until I couldn't breathe or think or do anything but feel and thrash. I came down from my high to find him beside me, stroking me gently, whispering sweet words of love and desire in my ear.

 I took a shaky, ragged breath. "Andraste's tits, Alistair, you're going to be the death of me, one of these days."

 "Not today," he whispered, and kissed me gently. "You are so incredibly beautiful, Sierra. So gorgeous and sexy, I don't even know what to do with myself. I just want you all the time."

 "And now you have me. Permanently." I waved my ring, and he caught my hand, pressing his lips to my palm.

 "Permanently," he agreed.

 "Now please, no more talking, and just...I need you. Please?"

 He kissed my lips, shuffling on top of me, and I gladly wrapped my legs around him as he pressed close. His tongue slipped into my mouth and he swallowed my gasp as he slowly worked his way inside me. And then we were moving together, each thrust and squeeze driving us higher, but he kept the pace slow so we approached our peaks gradually, hovering on the brink for long, torturous moments, before we tumbled over the edge together, our cries muffled by our entwined mouths.

 Finally, when the shuddering stopped, he reluctantly withdrew and flopped beside me on the floor; I rolled into his side, my head on his shoulder, and admired my ring in the firelight. _I'm really engaged. I'm engaged to Alistair._ I chuckled softly.

 "What?"

 "I just realised. Aedan's been pushing me to embrace being a Cousland – but, I suppose, now I'll actually be a Therein."

 "I don't expect you to change your name, Sierra."

 "And that's why I'm going to, love."

 We finally relocated to the bed, ate the meal laid out by Mistress Leta, then made love again; we laid in bed, entwined together, and talked about our future. We decided we both wanted children, but not for a while after the Blight - we wanted some time to settle in to our lives together outside of travelling and fighting.

 "Where do you think we'll live?" he asked.

 "Amaranthine," I replied absentmindedly.

 "You sound pretty sure of that."

 I considered. "Actually, I guess I'm not that sure. With neither you nor Anora in charge, I don't know what will happen. But in the game, the Wardens are granted the Arling of Amaranthine, which is where the problems with the Architect and his crazy creations will happen."

 "Huh. But Wardens aren't supposed to be political. How did that work?"

 "Well, honestly, the Wardens are as political as anyone else, they just aren't supposed to start civil wars and things. It's an illusion that the Wardens aren't political. The First Warden practically rules the Anderfels." I grimaced, and then smoothed out my expression before Alistair could notice. _I don't want to argue about the Wardens, not tonight._ "Anyway, I guess things are just a bit...different, in Ferelden."

 He chuckled. "We are a different lot, I'll give you that. Wonder what Cailan will do?"

 "Guess we will have to wait and see. I'm not super thrilled at the idea of living at the Vigil, I admit."

 "The Vigil?"

 "The name of the fortress where the Arling of Amaranthine is ruled from. Vigil's Keep. Big, ugly, and poorly maintained. And there's a Deep Roads entrance in the basement, which I'm hoping we can seal up before the darkspawn attack...yet another thing to talk to Sereda about. Because I haven't any idea how to get hold of the dwarf that sealed it after the attack in game. Can't even remember his name - though his brother's name is Dworkin."

 Alistair choked. "Dworkin? Really?"

 "Hey, I didn't pick it. He's an explosives expert, actually. Sort of crazy, but fun all the same. His brother's a stone mason, and a good one...but if we can't find them, we need to see if some of Sereda's people can give us a hand. After we oust Rendon Howe, of course."

 Alistair sighed. "One more thing to add to the to-do list."

 He sounded so tired, I considered letting him sleep...but then I thought of a better idea.

 "Is it still today? Or is it tomorrow yet?"

 "That doesn't even make sense. I'm pretty sure it's after midnight, if that's what you're asking."

 "Good."

 "Why?"

I disentangled myself and settled on my knees between his thighs. I licked my lips. "Because you said 'not today,' but it isn't anymore."


	89. Arming and Disarming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the unedited, graphic version of this chapter. If you'd prefer not to read the naughty bits, please check me out on fanfiction.net using the same username.

Chapter Eighty-Nine: *Arming and Disarming

 After making love on and off all night, we finally fell into an exhausted sleep in the early hours of the morning. Someone pounding on the door woke us sometime later; the room was pitch dark, and I had absolutely no idea what time it was.

 Alistair slipped out of bed and fumbled for some trousers, swearing as he banged his shin in the dark. "This better be an emergency," he growled as he opened the door, while I hid under the covers.

 I heard Zevran's voice. "It's always an emergency when Grey Wardens haven't eaten all day, no?"

 "We ate earlier. Sometime. What time is it, anyway?"

 "Mid-afternoon, sleepyheads. Time to get up! There's an armourer here to measure Sierra, and Duncan wants her to go talk to some weaponsmith about a weapon idea she had?"

 I swore. _It did need to be done, but did it have to be done today?_ "So why are you standing there instead of Duncan? You offered, I bet. Hoping to catch a peek at something, you pervert?"

 "I'd say I already caught a peek at something, Bellissima, but it isn't you."

 I heard Alistair mutter something uncomplimentary, and I laughed. "Go away and let me change, Zevran!"

 He laughed. "I very much doubt you have anything on that needs changing, but I suppose you might want to get dressed."

 Alistair slammed the door behind him, and then fumbled for the arcane lamp we'd left beside the door. Bluish light blossomed, and I crawled out of bed to see Alistair standing near the door with only low-riding trousers. I gave him an appreciative once-over: mussed up hair, hickeys, fingernail marks... _oh yes, Zevran got an eyeful, alright_.

 "Do we have to get out of bed?" I whined.

 He was looking at me naked, and his eyes darkened. "If you don't want me keeping you in until tomorrow, you better put something on quick," he teased.

 "Eep!" I scrambled for a pair of panties and a bra, getting a whiff of myself as I struggled into them. "Oh, ugh. I need a bath. What I wouldn't give for a shower! I smell like stale sex and unwashed human. Though I suppose that's better than wet dog."

 Alistair came over and pulled me into a hug, sniffing me as he did. "Smells good to me."

 "That's because I smell like sex with you! That poor armourer..."

 "He'll live. He's probably worked with Oghren before, after all."

 "Point. Even stale sex smells better than that!"

 Finally ready, I headed out into the main room with Alistair on my heels. I wore the clothes I usually wore under my armour, trousers and a shirt; Alistair was dressed similarly, though his were looser fitting, since he didn't need new armour. There was a dwarf waiting impatiently for us, ignoring the chaos as people came in and out around him. He was neatly dressed, with carefully coifed hair, a neatly groomed beard, and a waxed moustache that rivalled that of any villain from a 1920's silent film on Earth.

 He looked...prissy. If there was such a thing as Orlesian dwarves, he would be one.

 Mistress Leta introduced us; his name was Paider, and he was not pleased to meet me. He followed me to the library, since I wasn't about to take him into my room, which smelled of sex and looked like a hurricane had landed there. Solona was sitting with a book in her lap, and she watched in amusement as the man measured me, almost without speaking at all. He pushed or pinched when he needed me to move something, had me bend over and twist, and then asked a few terse questions about my fighting style.

 "And what is this you are wearing?"

 I looked down. "This? I put on what I wear under my armour. I thought that would be helpful."

 "This? You wear this under armour? Do you not have proper arming clothes?"

 "Um..."

 "Ach! I cannot be expected to work like this." He paced and muttered to himself; for a prissy sort, he swore like a sailor. _Must be a dwarven thing._ "I shall make new arming clothes as well. And I suppose the rest of your...friends, need arming clothes as well?"

 "I suppose? They all wear the same as me, more or less. Half the time, Alistair wears pyjamas."

 Solona started laughing outright at the dwarf's outrage.

 "I must do measurements. Go! Go! Send the first one up, while I measure this one."

 He stomped over to Solona, demanding she get up.

 "What? But I don't wear armour! I don't need arming clothes under my robes." Solona looked decidedly less amused now that the dwarf's attention was on her. "Hey, stop pinching!"

 I laughed all the way to the dining room, where I organised those present into a lineup to get measured. I did a mental head count: Zevran and I both needed new leathers after the Deep Roads, and Leliana could use some as well. Duncan needed an updated set of mail, and Faren's plate was mostly scavenged crap, though I wondered how the prissy little armourer would deal with measuring a Casteless. The others mostly needed new arming clothes, _apparently_ , but I thought that Sten and perhaps Bel and Oghren might benefit from new gear too. In fact, Alistair and Aedan, plus the mages, were possibly the only ones who didn't need new armour. I briefly felt sorry for the armourer, until one of the bruises where he'd pinched me started to ache.

 When I got everyone organised, I realised one was missing - my brother. "Zev? Where's Aedan?"

 "The Warden, shall we say, overindulged last night. He is...resting, I believe."

 "Resting? You came and woke me this morning, but Aedan's still resting?"

 I turned and headed to their room, ignoring Zev's protests. I didn't knock, but just barged in; the door wasn't locked. "Aedan?" I spoke loudly, teasing the poor hung-over fool.

 "Fuck off." The mumble came from underneath a mound of blankets on the bed. I reached over and pulled, making Aedan scramble to catch one and hold it over himself like a shield. "What are you doing here? Get out!"

 "Your boyfriend woke me from my well-deserved sleep; you can blame him."

 "Sierra, seriously, get out. I'm naked!"

 "I gathered. You have a blanket, so just relax."

 He flopped back on the bed, groaning theatrically. "I hate you."

 I sat on the edge of the bed. "I told you, blame Zev. He even tried to get a peek at me naked, I think. Got an eyeful of Alistair instead."

 He groaned again. "I didn't need to know that!"

 I laughed. "If I can handle the thought of you and Zev, you can cope with me and Alistair. Hey, at least we're going to be legitimate, one of these days..."

 "Zev and I are as legitimate as we're likely to get."

 "I know. Stupid. Why won't the Chantry let two men marry? No one else gets their knickers in a knot about it here, why should _they_?"

 "Could we not discuss this now, while I'm, you know, naked?"

 I chuckled. "Fine. Look, I just wanted to see how you're doing. We haven't had a chance to talk much lately."

 He sighed. "You mean, am I okay with you and Alistair and the whole marriage thing."

 "Well, sure, that, but also just in general. With Duncan like...” I just couldn’t continue that sentence. “Well, a lot more responsibility is falling on your shoulders again."

 "I'm fine. Really. It's not the first time I've had to lead, and it won't be the last. I'm even trained for it. And, for the record, I'm fine with you and Alistair, though I will murder him if he does something stupid to hurt you again. As long as you don't share the details about your sex life, I'm good." He sat up, taking my hand. "I'm happy for you, sis. You deserve to be happy."

 I hugged him tightly and then stood. "You need to get measured for arming clothes, I've been informed. So get your ass out of bed, will you? If you don't, I'm sending Sten in here next."

 He threw a pillow at me that bounced harmlessly off onto the floor. I stuck my tongue out at him, and he laughed. "Fine, fine. I'll be down in a few minutes."

 I left him and went to find Duncan, who'd pulled rank, been measured first, and was waiting for me. "Sereda told me the name of a weaponsmith who might be able to make a - what did you call them? Bola launcher? If you're agreeable, we could go now."

 I agreed. "But I need to change first. I'm fine with everyone here seeing me in this, but I'm not going out in stained tight cotton trousers. Two minutes?"

 He nodded, and I headed to my room, stopping to grab a bucket of warm water to wash up with on my way. I scrubbed myself down, changed into a clean, if not fancy dress, put my hair in a ponytail, and met up with Duncan in the dining room. He offered me his arm, and we left together after I received a quick kiss from Alistair. Aedan was at the back of the line for being measured, and waved as I left.

 The weaponsmith, a dwarf named Dallard, was quite possibly wider than he was tall, and he had a shop just off the main market. There were crossbows on display in the front area, but when he showed us unto the back, I stopped, amazed. There were a variety of ballistae, essentially giant spear launchers, as well as trebuchets and other siege weaponry in various states of assembly. And behind that was a range for testing weapons. The place was huge.

 Dallard looked at Duncan, ignoring me entirely. Duncan explained the problem - bringing down a flying dragon so it could be killed on the ground - and then gestured to me. Dallard looked at me skeptically, and I sighed.

 "Where I come from, there's a weapon called a bola. Essentially, it's a couple rocks tied together with rope. When thrown, the rope will tangle around the legs of a creature and make it fall. I'm wondering if a ballista or something like it can be altered to launch a bola hard enough to tangle around a dragon's wings."

 He looked somewhat intrigued, but still confused. He found some rope somewhere, and a variety of what looked like small stone cannonballs. I didn't even ask what they were normally used for. He handed me the rope, which I stared at in shock. I hadn't the foggiest idea how to make a bola, really; I'd only seen them in National Geographic television specials about South American aboriginal cultures.

 "Um, okay well, keep in mind I've never made one of these before. I've only seen pictures. But if you can tie a rock to the end there? And I'll tie one here..."

 It turns out that tying a rock on the end of a rope is harder than it sounds. In the end, I tied two loops, forming a little basket to hold the rock. Dallard did something similar on his end.

 "Okay, so if I remember correctly, you hold the rope in the middle," I hoisted the heavy rope, "swing it around like this, and then throw it in the direction you want it to go."

 I tossed the rope towards a practice dummy, missing entirely; Dallard laughed, and even Duncan chuckled.

 "Fine, smarty pants, you try." I retrieved the weapon and handed Duncan the rope.

 He spun it a couple of times, testing its weight, and then launched it towards the dummy. One of the rocks struck the thing dead on, and the other pulled the rope off to the side. He collected the bola and tried again, finally getting the rope to tangle around the dummy like I'd predicted.

 "I've heard you can make them with three or more balls, though why that's better than two I'm not sure. I think, if you add a third rope here," I pointed at the centre of the rope being held by Dallard, "you spin it with the third rock in your hand. Though I could be wrong. And apparently they alter the weight of the rocks, sometimes using uneven weights to make it tangle better. But I thought that if you could somehow load two rocks into a ballista-type thing, and fire them simultaneously, you might be able to bring down a dragon."

 "And it would need to be mobile, unlike a ballista. Perhaps mounted on a cart, or carried by hand. Maybe more like a crossbow than a ballista?" Duncan added.

 Dallard was nodding, but by the vacant look on his face, I could tell he wasn't listening. He was thinking. He fiddled with one of the rocks, lifting the rope to test its weight, maybe; I wasn't really sure, he could have just been fidgeting. Finally he turned to me.

 "How much do you want?" he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

 "Uh, pardon? How many of them do we need? I don't know. I guess it depends how hard they are to make, and how big they are-"

 "No. How much do you want to sell me this idea? Exclusively, obviously. I won't pay for something you're going to sell to others."

 "I, uh, Duncan?"

 I turned to Duncan, confused; his expression was amused, and he appeared to be holding in a laugh. "I forget you've never dealt with dwarves before. Would you like me to negotiate for you?"

 "Please?" _I don't even know what you're negotiating for._

 Duncan turned to Dallard. "How much do you think you can sell a unit for?"

 "Well, that depends on the demand, I suppose. Won't be that much need - Nevarrans, maybe, and Grey Wardens, obviously; might be able to adapt the design for more conventional uses as well, I suppose."

 "Come now, my friend. How much?"

 "Perhaps...ten sovereigns per unit?"

 "So twenty, then." The dwarf grimaced, and Duncan smiled. "And that means at least fifteen of that is pure profit. I'd say twenty-five percent of the profit might be a reasonable starting place..."

 I tuned it out as the men haggled. I wasn't trying to make money on the deal, I just wanted to increase the chances of my family escaping a battle with the Archdemon alive. I examined the other weaponry mindlessly while they debated. Finally Duncan came over to me.

 "You have a choice. You can take a lump sum payment now of two hundred fifty sovereigns, or you can take three sovereigns per unit he is able to sell for perpetuity. It's up to you." He dropped his voice and whispered, "If I were you, I'd take the three sovereigns per unit. It'll take a while to get the same amount of money, but based on how hard he's pushing the lump sum, he knows he can sell much more than that."

 I was shocked. Two hundred sovereigns was an enormous fortune. That was probably the equivalent of millions on Earth. And some dwarf was going to hand me that much based on an idea alone? How did a random weaponsmith even have that much coin? But then...if I took three sovereigns per unit sold, that could provide me a solid income for years. I'd be less likely to lose it, have it stolen, or use it all and be left poor. And I might make more in the long-run...

  _How does telling someone else about an idea that wasn't even mine make me rich? This isn't supposed to be that sort of fairy tale._

 "Throw in a handful of the launchers for the Grey Wardens, and I'll take the three sovereigns per."

 Dallard grimaced, but nodded. "I'll do you one better, missy. Instead of giving them to the Wardens, I'll sell them to her Highness Queen Sereda for her army, and even train some of her men to use them. She can bring them to the surface when the army leaves to combat the Blight, and you and I can make a little profit off it while we're at it."

 I laughed. Duncan nodded, so I agreed as well.

 "Now remember, we have an exclusive deal. You can't sell this idea to anyone else."

 That was an easy promise to make. As long as the Archdemon was defeated, the rest was just gravy.

 The measuring had all been done by the time we arrived back at the estate, and we had a surprise guest: Sereda. She was wearing fine clothes - trousers and a jacket that looked surprisingly feminine while still being more practical than a dress - and was lounging in the dining room, talking to Aedan and Gorim while everyone ate dinner. Duncan joined them, while I cornered Leliana and began stuffing my face.

 I gestured to Sereda. "Leli, could I pull off that outfit?"

 Leliana, sitting with an armful of rather smug-looking nug, inspected it critically. "If the design was altered for your slighter frame, I suppose. You want something like that?"

 "Eventually, I think. Everyone keeps telling me I have to accept being a noblewoman, but I hate all those stinking dresses. I need something different, something still stylish, but not so...girly."

 "I'll work on it, my friend."

 "Thanks, Leli." I stopped, looking around. "Hey, where's Solona?"

 As one of so few female companions, her absence stuck out.

 "I think she and Anders are talking. Up in the library."

 "Oh, Maker, I'd better go check that she hasn't lit him on fire."

 I kissed Alistair briefly, then headed upstairs. I walked down the hallway, listening intently for voices. I didn't want to interrupt if the discussion was going well, but I wanted to be able to intervene if things got ugly.

 No one was in the library when I arrived, however; deciding against looking any further, I grabbed a book on griffons and curled up on a chaise in the back corner. There was a little alcove, lit by an arcane lamp similar to those at Soldier’s Peak, and a comfy chair. I could almost believe I was on Earth, sitting in my tiny spare room surrounded by my books.

 My mind wandered as I flipped through the griffon book. My ring caught the light and sparkled brilliantly, and got me thinking about my wedding. Which was sort of surreal – how did one even plan a wedding in Thedas? _We haven’t discussed dates, and I assume we’ll wait until after the Blight, but perhaps Alistair wants to do it sooner?_ I daydreamed for a little while, about a time when the darkspawn were quiescent, and Alistair and I could live quietly, with our friends and whatever new Wardens we could acquire, just being normal for a brief time.

  _Who am I kidding? We’d get bored in a minute_. Still, the concept held a certain appeal, to be sure.

 As I sat not really reading, I heard raised voices, but couldn't make them out until they were right outside the library door.

 "...trying to protect you, 'Lona," Anders was saying.

 "Protect me? I fail to see how this story has anything to do with me." Solona was in tears, I could tell, and my heart ached. They came through the library door, but hidden as I was in the alcove and dwarfed by the chaise, they didn’t notice me. I debated – _should I stand up, announce my presence, and try to sneak away unobtrusively?_ I didn’t want to – the two were finally talking, after Maker-knew how long, and I wasn’t about to interrupt. I decided to slump down even further and breathe very, very quietly. _If I get caught, I’ll pretend to be sleeping._

 "Danielle would have done anything to protect me. It was the same for me with you. Do you really think the templars would have hesitated to use you to get to me? They'd have threatened you, maybe thrown you in solitary, maybe tortured you...do you really think they'd have hesitated to make you Tranquil if they thought it would get me to cooperate?"

 His voice wavered. "I wanted to find a way for both of us to get out of there, Solona. But I couldn't do that without escaping. And if the templars knew how I felt about you, they'd have used you to trap me. I'd have been made Tranquil, and maybe so would you, or maybe you'd just be trapped still. But I was too selfish to stay away from you...so my only alternative was to make them think you were just a casual fling. Like everyone else."

 "I was just a casual fling to you, Anders, don't you see? If you loved me at all, you'd have told me what you were up to, and we could have found a way. Together. But it was always just about you, wasn't it? You wanted out, you wanted me, you wanted free reign to have sex with whoever caught your fancy...I heard the stories, you know, from the other girls. Even some of the boys. About Anders and his marvellous technique, or his magic tongue. You left a string of broken hearts behind you every time you escaped, and mine was only one of many."

 "Solona, I-"

 "Just stop, Anders. Stop. I can accept that you thought you loved me. All that means to me is that you don't know what love is. And I don't know what's worse."

 I heard rustling, as though someone had stood in a rush, but then a grunt, and…kissing?

 “I love you Solona. I made mistakes, made the wrong choices…I won’t walk away now. I don’t know how to make you believe, but maybe this will show you.”

 I rolled my eyes. _Leave it to Anders to try to fix his mistakes with kissing._

 And then I realised it seemed to be working. There was more kissing, and a soft moan, followed by a thud and an oath. When I heard a voice next, it was clear that it came from someone laying on the low coffee table in the middle of the room.

 “This isn’t me forgiving you.” Solona sounded amused, but still angry. An odd combination.

 “I know. And I don’t expect you to. I just want to remind you how I can make you feel.”

 “Sex was never the problem we had, Anders.” She sounded more angry, but broke off with a ragged gasp. I heard some more rustling, and the sound of wooden table legs protesting their mistreatment, and then Solona’s robe came flying carelessly over to land on the floor near my feet. I jumped, but managed to stifle my startled squeak and stay quiet.

 I felt magic flare – Anders, by the feel – and suddenly Solona was panting and moaning continuously. I risked a peek over the top of the chaise to see Solona reclining, naked, on the table, spread-eagled, while Anders knelt on the floor, leaning over her. His hands roamed her perfect, pale skin, stopping to tweak a nipple periodically; sparks shot out from his hands to run along her skin, covering her with brilliant, flashing spots of white light that looked like tiny jewels embedded in her skin. She gasped and writhed as his fingers meandered from her shoulders to her knees, skipping only over her core as the sparks followed in trails behind his hands.

  _I should have known that if sex magic was real, Anders would be the one to have figured it out._

 “You’re so beautiful, my darling Solona,” Anders murmured, and I was forced to agree. Slightly more rounded than I, her figure was curvy in all the right ways, her skin alabaster and flawless except for a light smattering of freckles over her chest and shoulders. Her nipples were rosy and jutting up proudly, her hands with long, beautiful nails clenched at her sides, her perfect toes curled as the magic stimulated her, and I was suddenly, surprisingly green with envy.

 Solona arched her back, gasping, lifting her legs up onto the table, spread wide, opening herself to Anders’ gaze. She whispered, “Just shut up, Anders. Better yet, I can think of a much more appropriate use for that mouth of yours.” She reached out and ran her fingers through the blond mage’s hair, loosing it from the leather thong it was tied back with, and then pulled his face towards her slit. He licked his lips, not at all reluctant, and I ducked back down as she squealed.

 It suddenly occurred to me that I was blatantly watching two of my friends making love, and instead of being disgusted or embarrassed, or even worried about how this would play out for them, I was horrendously aroused. Though my intentions had been good, I should have been mortified at what I was witnessing, but all I could do was rub my thighs together, wanting some sort of stimulation but too afraid to move lest I be caught in my unintentional voyeurism.

 From the sounds I couldn’t block out, Anders was humming with enjoyment as he performed cunnilingus, and Solona’s gasps and cries of encouragement indicated he was good at it as well. I listened, tormented with arousal, as he teased her over and over, bringing her close to her peak – based on the heavy breathing and string of chanted curse words – again and again without allowing her the release she so clearly wanted. I began chanting in time, internally, wishing for it to be over so I could escape, though I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to just get away, or get enough privacy to soothe the burning ache in my core.

 Solona finally orgasmed, her cries muffled by her hand, and she panted and shuddered through aftershocks as Anders noisily suckled on her flesh and then slowly withdrew, allowing her to settle. She uttered a shaky laugh and the table groaned again as I assume she stood. “You certainly haven’t lost any skills,” she giggled, and Anders snorted in amusement.

 A slender hand came into view and grabbed her robes; I uttered a – strictly internal – sigh of relief that she didn’t look behind her as she retrieved the garment. I heard more rustling as she got dressed.

 Anders finally spoke. “Solona, I-“

 He stopped, and I figured she must have gestured. “Don’t make this out to be more than it was, Anders. Nothing has changed. I’m sorry I let this get out of hand – it was a mistake. I can’t…“ I heard her voice crack, and then she regained control. “It was just sex. I hope you got some enjoyment out of it as well.”

 Her voice sounded further away as she continued. “Goodnight, Anders.”

 And then she was gone, and shortly thereafter I was alone in the library, and desperately, desperately in need of Alistair.

 I took a moment to compose myself, and then headed down to find out where my fiancé had gotten to. I found him playing cards with Faren, Leli, Aedan, and Zev in the main hall, and losing. Not badly, he still had a pile of coins beside him, but it was much smaller than Aedan’s and a little smaller than everyone else’s. I pulled over a bench to sit beside him, and he looked over, still distracted by his hand.

 “Hey, Love. You here to help me stop losing at cards?”

 “Not precisely, no.”

 He looked at me more carefully, and frowned thoughtfully. “Are you alright?”

 I licked my lips, antsy but not wanting my agitation to show. “Yup. Don’t let me interrupt you.”

 He stared at me for a few more seconds, and I watched as his gaze travelled across my face before settling on my eyes. I must have looked strange, or something, because his eyes darkened, and without a word he dropped his cards on the table. “I fold.”

 There was good natured grumbling at that pronouncement, which he ignored to climb off the bench he was sitting on, offer me a hand, and escort me towards our room. It took all of my willpower not to run.

 “You didn’t have to stop on my account.”

 “I was just wasting time waiting for you, anyway. And you looked like…you sure nothing’s wrong?”

 We reached our room as he asked, and I avoided answering until he’d kicked the door shut behind him. And then I was on him, slamming him against the door, up on my tiptoes, arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. His arms wrapped around me reflexively, and I moaned my approval as he held me close. I explored his mouth with my tongue, teasing and stroking his own, nipping his lower lip with my teeth.

 He broke away with a gasp. “What in the world has come over you?”

 I didn’t bother answering, capturing his lips again. With one hand I began undoing laces on my dress, and I stopped only briefly to toss it off over my head before kissing him again. I attacked his clothes next, getting my hands on his torso and stroking his warm skin before pulling the shirt over his head, then going for the laces on his trousers.

 He was hard and ready for me, when I snaked my hand inside to grasp him; he may have been confused, but his body was more than willing. He groaned as I pumped him slowly, teasing him, then whined as I let go to wrap my arms around his neck again. I hitched my knee up by his hip, and he took the hint; he reached down and lifted me, holding me to him as I wrapped my legs around his waist. His hands gripped my panty-clad ass, which served to inflame me more as his bulge pressed against my mound. He stumbled over towards the bed and dropped me on it; I shucked my panties and slid up onto the pillows while he divested himself of trousers and smalls both. He climbed onto the bed and crawled towards me, and I reached up to run my hands through his soft sandy hair.

 I was never comfortable with dirty talk, as much as Zevran claimed it was part of the enjoyment of sex; it was awkward and I felt like an idiot when I tried. Which meant that I didn’t really know how to ask for what I wanted, even though I definitely knew what it was I wanted. I tugged his hair and whispered, “Please.”

 He leaned over to press a kiss to my belly, drawing a gasp. “Please what, Love?” His expression was mischievous, telling me he knew exactly what I wanted, but he was going to make me say it.

 I pulled his hair again, guiding his head down towards my aching centre. “Please, Alistair.” When he just looked at me, blinking slowly, I sighed. “Please, lick me.”

 He touched his tongue to the spot he’d just kissed. It was soft, but the texture of his tongue was rough, and it made my heart speed up even more. _So close…_

 “Like that?” His grin was evil, full of delight at my discomfort and neediness.

 I growled. _Fine, I can play his little game._ “Lick my cunt,” I demanded, “right now!” And I couldn’t think of it as anything else, in that moment; normally I hated the ‘C’ word, but it was the only one that felt like it accurately portrayed the deep need inside right then.

 His eyes went almost black, his pupils blown, and he took a shaky breath. _Maybe Zevran was right?_ “My pleasure,” he answered, drawing out the last syllable in the word pleasure, rolling the r and dragging a moan of pure animalistic need from my throat. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

 And then I watched as he settled himself on his belly, my feet over his shoulders, and slowly, ever so slowly descended to lap at my drenched folds. “Someone’s eager,” he commented, licking his lips in apparent satisfaction, and I bucked my hips, trying to get more – more contact, more tongue, more relief from the raging desire coursing through me. “All right, settle down…”

 He licked me softly again, then used his fingers to spread me open and ran his tongue from my opening to my throbbing clit. I hissed out a “Yes!” and clenched my hand in his hair, tugging it, pulling him closer. He licked again, swirling around my clit, and then delved his tongue deep inside me, over and over again, driving my breath from my lungs and leaving me lightheaded with pure ecstasy. His nose pressed against my pearl, his breath puffing against my sensitive tissues, and I shrieked and thrashed under his ministrations. He grabbed my hips with both hands, holding me down.

 Images kept flooding my mind: Solona, ethereal beauty on display as she arched into Anders’ touch; Alistair, clothes askew and hair tousled, smiling at me with lust in his eyes; Alistair again, but in a tuxedo, and wearing my ring. My orgasm overtook me and I rode it, unaware of anything around me as white-hot fire raced through my veins.

 Alistair climbed up beside me as I came down from my peak, holding me and stroking my skin softly, murmuring words of love as I shuddered through aftershocks. Finally he relaxed onto his back, with me curled up against his side, boneless.

 “So are you going to tell me what that was about?”

 I opened my mouth to decline, but changed my mind. As embarrassing as it was, I didn’t want any secrets between us. And honestly, it really was hilarious.

 “I saw Anders and Solona,” I mumbled.

 “What? Saw them? What does that have to do with anything?”

 I flushed. “I saw them…you know.” His eyes widened with realisation and shock. “It wasn’t on purpose! I was reading in the library, and they didn’t see me sitting there…and then I wasn’t about to interrupt once they’d started!”

 He chuckled. “So all this was because you saw Anders naked?” His expression was amused, to my surprise; I’d expected anger, or maybe jealousy.

 “Maker no! He was fully dressed. She was naked, and he…and it just made me, well, need you. Immediately.”

 He laughed then, a full belly laugh. “You know, when Zevran said that at brothels like the Pearl you can actually pay others to have sex while you watch as a form of foreplay, I thought he was joking. But if it gets these sort of results, I guess maybe he was right.”

 “You’re not upset?”

 “Why would I be upset? Unless you plan to leave me like this…” He gestured down at himself, and I glanced down to see his impressive erection standing straight up, bobbing with his heartbeat.

 “Me? Never.” I leaned up to kiss him, and then swung my leg over, straddling his hips. I sank down on him in one swift move, hissing in pleasure at being filled, and proceeded to ride him until he came, triggering my own orgasm and leaving me collapsed against his chest, exhausted.


	90. Confession

Chapter Ninety: Confession

 

Once I had recovered again, I began to feel guilty. Not only had I – unintentionally, but still – watched my friends being intimate, which was entirely inappropriate, but afterwards instead of consoling her when I knew she’d be upset, I couldn’t even control myself for five minutes without having sex myself. Despite my total lassitude and complete lack of a spinal column, I sighed and sat up.

 “Love?” Alistair sounded half asleep, and I smiled at his drowsy frown.

 “I’m fine. Have a nap - I’m just going to go check on Solona.”

 He rolled to his side, watching me get dressed with dark eyes. “Check on her?”

 “Ha, whoops, I didn’t tell you the rest of the story. It wasn’t make-up sex. It was…I don’t know. Solona was telling him off, and then he kissed her, and then they, well, you know…And then she told him it didn’t mean anything, that it was a mistake, and left him there. She hasn’t forgiven him, not by a long shot.”

 “But then…why?”

 “I don’t know. To say goodbye? To show off what he can’t have? Because she was lonely? I’m not sure. What I do know is she isn’t going to be feeling good right now.”

 “Want me to come with?”

 “Thanks, but no. I think a little girl talk, perhaps.”

 “I love you.”

 I leaned over and kissed him, now fully dressed. “Love you too.”

 I snuck up to Solona’s room, hoping not to be seen; I didn’t want anyone prying into what had happened. I knocked on the door, and there was no response.

 “Solona? It’s Sierra. Can I come in?”

 There was a pause, and then the door opened just a little. I went in, closing it behind me, to see a red, swollen-eyed Solona standing by the door, her hair a mess, wearing just a nighty and clinging to a blanket. She looked so vulnerable, so pitiful, that I just walked up to her and pulled her into a hug. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed and started sobbing on my shoulder. I let her cry, rubbing her back lightly. She stuttered out apologies a couple of times until I shushed her and led her to the bed. Her arms were freezing cold, so I took the blanket from her hand and wrapped it around her, then sat down beside her.

 “I know what happened. It’s okay.”

 “You do? How do…he told you?” Her voice skipped about two octaves up, and I briefly worried she’d shatter any nearby glass.

 “No, no, of course not. I don’t imagine he’ll talk to anyone about that.”

 “Then how?”

 “You don’t want to know. Just trust me.” She blushed, and I gathered she’d guessed that I must have seen her. “It doesn’t matter. I just figured maybe you could use a friend?”

 She nodded, sniffling miserably. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

 “Hey, it’s no bother. We’re friends. Sisters-in-law, even, since you’re my betrothed’s ‘sister’.” Of course, she was mine as well, being a Warden too, but we hadn’t admitted that to anyone yet. “Did you know, you, Morrigan, and Leliana are the only girls I’ve ever been friends with? I really don’t mind.”

 She smiled, a small sad smile, and then fell quiet. I waited for her to rage or vent, but nothing came out for a couple of minutes. I was about to ask if she wanted me to go get Leli instead, when she finally began.

 "That bastard!" The exclamation was loud and sudden, and made me jump. "He got me feeling sorry for him, for Andraste's sake. I actually felt bad for being angry, for not just leaping into his arms, when he's the one who cheated. He’s the one who fucked anything that moved."

 "I know, Solona. I know. There's no question he's a complete moron, and you are perfectly within your rights to hate him. Just because something bad happened to him, doesn't mean he has an excuse to hurt you like that. Which just begs the question…why? Why tonight?"

 She sighed. “I was lonely. Missing basic human contact. Don’t get me wrong, you’re all nice, but it’s not the same. I let him kiss me, and then got swept away like I always have.”

 I sat back quietly, waiting for the rest of the rant, trying to be a good listener instead of the one spouting off.

 "I think I remember when it happened." She sat back, expression distant. "We hadn’t been together long. He'd been with other people before me, I knew that; there was one guy, Karl, who I knew had feelings for him before he got transferred. There was an uproar in the tower, not that I ever heard any details, and after that he was a bit...needy. He got paranoid about getting caught by the templars. And sometimes he'd cry, after we...when he thought I was sleeping. I thought he missed Karl."

 "I think he's always played it a bit close to the chest. If no one knows him, no one can hurt him."

 She nodded. "Yes. It didn't matter to me; I loved him. He was so kind, so caring; a little possessive, which is why I assumed it would only ever be the two of us. Until it wasn't."

 "What would you have done if he'd come to you and told you his plan? To escape?"

 "Gone with him," she replied, without hesitation.

 "And what do you think would have happened if you had?"

 She laughed, a dry cackle that didn't sound at all humourous. "Oh, we'd both have been caught. Likely separated to different Circles, maybe made Tranquil...I'm not sure even Irving could have saved us."

 "And maybe that's..."

 "I know." She sighed. "He's right, of course. They would have used me against him. Punished me for his crimes. And I'd have hated it - he'd have stayed for me. He wasn't meant to be caged, I don't think. In fact, it won't be long before he starts seeing the Grey Wardens as a prison too. His greatest care is his own personal freedom."

 "It won't always be that way."

 "No? You seem pretty sure about that."

 I'd thought about this a lot, and realised that the only way to prevent Anders from starting the end of the world was to have someone else on my side. Someone who cared enough about him to want to help instead of eliminate the threat. I couldn't rely on going it alone; I could die, and then nothing would prevent Anders from merging with Justice.

 "I am. He...in the game, he makes a friend, eventually. A spirit of Justice, brought unwillingly through the veil and forced to reside in a human corpse. He develops a need, a cause, I suppose, to free all mages; Justice agrees with him, and he allows Justice to possess him, since the body he's inhabiting is decaying. They - the two of them - start a mage rebellion."

 She was looking at me like I had two heads. "Anders? The healer, who’s never physically hurt anyone? The one who thinks blood mages are _worse_ than templars? The same Anders who was caught last time because he spent too long having his fun in a brothel in Denerim? Anders, who only wants 'a pretty girl, and the right to shoot lightning at fools'?"

 I laughed. "Maybe it's the lightning part that pushes him over. I don't know. But you're right about him seeing the Grey Wardens as a cage. That's part of it too. And the fade spirit, Justice, when exposed to his anger, essentially turns into a demon of Vengeance, so that doesn’t help either."

 "The mage rebellion - it doesn't end well, does it?"

 "How could it? He kills hundreds of innocents to start the rebellion. The Knight-Commander declares the Right of Annulment on the Circle even though Anders wasn’t a Circle mage and admitted to the crime; there's a battle, half the mages turn to blood magic or become abominations...and then other Circles start rising up. The templars break themselves away from the Chantry, deciding it is too lenient on mages, and start hunting down and killing mages, while the mages retreat and hole up to try to defend themselves. I don't actually know what happens in the end - thatpart hadn't been written yet when I left. But I can't imagine it's good..."

 "I thought you...Leliana said you told her it was a templar who caused the war."

 "It was, sort of. It's a long story. The Knight Commander in Kirkwall is, well, crazy, and then she gets exposed to toxic red Lyrium and completely loses it. Starts making Harrowed mages Tranquil for tiny transgressions, allows her templars to abuse them...it gets really ugly. A bunch of mages turn to blood magic because it’s that, Tranquility, or death. What Anders does is in response to that. I've warned Greagoir about it, and I'm hoping he can find a way to do something about Meredith before it gets that bad. And I've recruited Anders early, before his next escape would have been in the game, hoping to change what will happen in the end. Also, if I have any say, Justice will never be released from the Fade. But I have realised that there are too many balls in the air right now, and if something happens to me, it'll all come crashing down."

 “He doesn’t know?” She looked appalled, and I flushed, feeling defensive.

 “I didn’t want him to have to live with thinking that’s inevitable. And I didn’t tell anyone else, because I didn’t want them judging him for something he hasn’t even done yet. I decided…I know you’re angry with him, and with good reason, but despite that I knew you might be the only person who wants to just change his future instead of killing him on the spot to make sure it never happens.”

 “Why don’t you want to kill him? It seems like the easiest solution, for someone who has no reason to care.”

 “Solona, he’s my friend. Even in the game, he was my friend. Underneath the rage and what Justice does to him, he’s a good person, if a little misguided.” She gave me a look, and I chuckled. “A lot misguided, then. But he doesn’t deserve death for wanting mages to be free from abuse, free to use their powers without being treated like plague-carriers. We just need to make sure Vengeance never exists, and then perhaps he can help reform the Circles or something, instead of starting a war. And if Meredith can be removed before she can do too much harm, and maybe we can make sure she never gets the Red Lyrium, that should calm things down too.”

 “I just…” she trailed off, biting her lip, and then abruptly punched me in the arm. “Why did you wait so long to tell me? It would have been so much easier before we…before I let him back in, even a little.”

 “Aha, so you admit you let him in?”

 “Of course I did. I’m not a complete idiot – I can see clearly enough to know how spectacularly… What’s that term you used? Oh yes, screwed. I know how screwed I am. I hold no illusions that he’s not going to worm his way back into my good graces eventually. Not that I’m letting him in willingly, but I’ve never been able to say no to him. Tonight I was supposed to be telling him off for good, and look where that got me!   If he persists – and I think he will – he’ll succeed again, and again. Making me laugh, making me want…and then I’ll take him back, eventually.

 “It’s not that I don’t understand why he acted like that, after what happened with Danielle. He told you about that?” I nodded, and she continued, “Things like that happen in the Circle, and it causes trauma for everyone around, not just those directly involved. Love is a liability when you live in a cage. But as much as I wouldn’t want to be the reason that he stayed miserable in the Circle, I resent him leaving, too. It’s not rational, but it’s there. If he really loved me, shouldn’t he have stayed to be with me? Or let me risk coming with him?”

 She sighed, pushing her blond hair out of her face irritably. “I will help, in any way I can. Tell me what I can do to stop him, and I’ll do it.”

 “Thanks, Solona. We’ve got some time, so when we get closer, we’ll talk. But I really do want to keep this from him, if possible. No one should have to live with that hanging over their head.”

 “I agree…for now. I’ll think about it, but if at some point I think he should be told, will you agree?”

 I studied her tear-stained face for a few moments. “Okay. You know him better. You can decide if he needs to know.” I touched her shoulder sympathetically, and she smiled tiredly.

 “The one good thing about what happened is I’m likely to sleep tonight, for a change.”

 I laughed and grinned, and she chuckled back.

 “He does love you, Solona. He’s dumber than toast, I admit, and he needs a good swift kick, but he does love you. I hope that’s at least some consolation.”

 “I know. Sometimes…it just feels like sometimes that’s not enough.”

 I gave her a last hug, tucked her into bed with her quilt, and blew out the candle, closing the door behind me as I left. Two steps out into the hallway, I turned to head towards the main hall and a snack, when I caught a glimpse of long blond hair booking it around the corner in front of me. I glanced at Solona’s door and decided against calling out to the mage, instead hustling down the hall to catch up. When I turned the corner I’d seen him rounding, I deemed myself far enough away from Solona’s door to risk it.

 “Anders!”

 He’d almost made it to the stairs down, but he paused to let me catch up, schooling his features to impassivity, regarding me with vague curiosity. _He’s going to try to pretend he wasn’t listening outside Solona’s door when he’s been caught red-handed? Impossible!_

 I stepped up beside him with a vapid smile, then reached up and grabbed his ear, like I used to with the foster children I was tasked with taking care of as a young teenager, and pulled his head down to the level of my ear. _Damn tall people!_

 “We need to talk, Anders.” My tone was menacing, and my expression had morphed to one of righteous fury. Anders blanched, but nodded as best he could with my grip still on his ear. I released him and turned to head back toward the library, before pausing. I didn’t need the reminder of what he’d been up to earlier. I turned back to him. “Your room,” I demanded, and he gestured listlessly without objection.

 Once in his room, I turned to him, eyes flashing with rage. “How much did you hear?”

 “Nothing,” he grumbled, looking like a petulant child. “Door was too thick and I knew you’d feel it if I eavesdropped with magic.”

 “Oh stop sulking, you big baby. You’re just mad you got caught without at least being able to get anything out of it first.”

 He smirked at that, and I growled.

 “Anders, what the hell were you thinking?”

 He looked up, surprised and defensive. “What do you mean?”

 “Don’t play stupid. You aren’t a good enough liar. I know, Anders. I was there.” He looked confused at that, and I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I was in the library earlier, reading.”

 His look of confusion slowly changed to horror. “You saw that?”

 “Yes. So I repeat, what the hell were you thinking? Honestly, you have to be the stupidest man I’ve ever met. I thought you were supposed to be good with women?”

 “That’s what it said in your performance, did it?” he asked, obviously trying to change subjects. And then he smirked again, enraging me.

 “Yes, I suppose it is. But considering that, in the performance, Solona was either dead, Tranquil, or in Aeonar, I guess you could be a little more carefree with your affections.” It was a cruel blow, and I knew it, but he needed to hear it.

 He paled, and then sat heavily on his bed, burying his face in his hands. “I should have been there. I could have stopped her. Gotten Jowan out somehow else, without her getting caught. Damn Greagoir! Damn Jowan to the void!”

 “Right, because that’s the biggest issue here right now. Seriously. Sex, to fix your screwed up relationship? That’s what you thought was going to help?”

 “I wasn’t thinking, okay? It wasn’t exactly a plan. It just…happened.”

 “I think sex ‘just happens’ to you a lot, which is exactly the problem. Asshat.”

 “Did you just call me an asshat?”

 “It’s like if you wore your own ass as a hat. It’s fairly self-explanatory, I thought.”

 “I gathered that, thanks. Anyway, you notice she didn’t say no!”

 “No, she didn’t. She’s lonely, and she hates herself for allowing it. That’s what you gave her today – a reason to be disgusted with herself. If you want her back…actually, wait. Do you want her back?”

 “Yes, of course.”

 “Not of course. You need to put some thought into this, you idiot. Do you really, truly want her back? Knowing it’s going to take a lot of work, and you may not succeed? Knowing that if you succeed and then screw it up again, I’ll track you down and kill you myself? Only one woman for the rest of your life, to spend your entire life trying to make happy? Do you want her back?”

 “Yes.” His pale face was earnest, his expression sincere. “More than anything. I would do absolutely anything. Whatever it takes.”

 “Can I make a suggestion?”

 “Like I could stop you?” He quirked a smile, and I turned away, irritated. “Wait. No, please, tell me. I’m obviously hopeless at this. Tell me.”

 I sighed. “Why don’t you start by trying to convince her that you don’t always think with only the little head? No sex jokes. No offers. You find yourself alone with her, you restrain yourself to kissing her hand, and not the rest of her.” He flushed. “Even if she doesn’t say no, it’s not what she needs from you. She needs to know you can keep your dick in your pants, be trustworthy and reliable and helpful, not lecherous. She’s a pretty girl – she’s got enough men ogling her. No whores, no other women – or men, for that matter – that she has to wonder about. Why don’t you try being her friend, and letting her learn to trust you again? Talk to her like she’s a person. Spend time with her. And then see if you can patch things up after that? Let her come to you when she wants to be intimate, not the other way around.”

 He had regained the colour in his face, flushing when I mentioned the whores; at least, he looked like he’d listened to my little diatribe. I blushed slightly thinking about how preachy I’d just been. _I’m going to be worse than Wynne!_ I pushed off the wall I’d been leaning against, stepping up to him and putting my hand on his shoulder.

 “She loves you. If you’d stop being such a jerk, you might be able to fix this.” I took my hand off his shoulder and slapped him upside the head once, hard; he swore and rubbed his scalp ruefully. “That’s for using sex as manipulation. And for not checking to see if the library was empty before you undressed someone on the coffee table.”

 He finally chuckled, and I turned to leave.

 “Why are you helping me?”

 I looked back at him over my shoulder. “Because, despite your apparent intermittent bouts of stupidity, you’re not a bad person. You deserve to be happy, and Solona deserves more than what you’ve given her so far.”

 He nodded, and I left. I took a deep breath, then headed down to the kitchen. I’d missed supper again. Mistress Leta was puttering about, I guessed readying meals for the morning; I helped myself to a tray, some plates, some bread and cheese, and some leftover meat from supper, piling enough sandwiches on the tray to feed three starving bears, or two Grey Wardens. Mistress Leta handed me a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses; piling it all on my tray, I headed back to my room. I ran into Aedan and Zev with a few of the other Wardens on their way out to Tapsters; I waved off the invitation and gave Aedan a kiss on the cheek.

 I backed through the door to our room, my hands full with the tray; I set it down on a table to find Alistair awake, standing beside the bed, getting dressed. He wore only his low-riding pants, his tunic held in his hands; it was a look that never failed to arouse me. His skin was golden in the firelight, scattered white scars over his torso providing a startling contrast, his muscles flexing and bulging underneath, a light trail of hair leading from his slightly furry chest down past his navel, disappearing below his waistband.

 He looked up at me and smiled. “I was just going to look for you. Oh, you brought food? Perfect.” He stopped, taking in my slack-jawed appreciation of his half-naked form, and dropped the tunic on the bed with a smirk. “So, food later, then?”


	91. Ascent

Chapter Ninety-One: Ascent

 

For the next several days, we relaxed in between going to meetings with Sereda. She had already made sweeping changes, instituting a new ‘military’ caste that took anyone who could fight regardless of previous caste (or lack thereof). She had the recruits, mostly former casteless, training under the supervision of a few open-minded Warrior caste veterans. She’d opened up the castes to accept the children of a union whether or not the gender lined up with the casted parent, and as a result, several merchant and warrior caste dwarves had married their mistresses and had their female children recognised. The slums of Dust Town were being torn down and rebuilt, and she had the former residents housed wherever they could find space, be that abandoned housing in the market, or in the bowels of the Proving Grounds. The casteless without any talent for fighting were being trained to build and excavate stone to make new permanent housing. She’d cancelled any upcoming Provings, instead implementing war games to take place between Orzammar and Aeducan Thaig, as training exercises both for the warriors and the military.

 Alistair and I made good use of the bed and the spare time; it was a good thing Grey Warden stamina was what it was, or we’d both have needed medical treatment before the week was over. I also spent some time shopping with the girls; Leli insisted I be fitted for yet another dress that she wouldn’t allow me to see or have input on, even when I pouted.

 Caridin and Shale left to find Cadash Thaig, as well as reactivate any golems they could find along their travels; the Shaperate had provided detailed records of the numbers and approximate locations of golems lost in centuries past, so the two sentient golems left with dozens of control rods carried between them. Sten seemed a little disgruntled to have been left; he and Shale were as close to friends as I could imagine either of them being. But I couldn’t blame Shale – as large and hardy as the Qunari was, he was still a ‘fleshy creature’, and it must have been nice for her to spend some time with one of her own kind. Especially one who remembered her from before. And since neither needed to eat or rest, I imagined they’d have the sections of Deep Roads they were aiming for cleared in short order.

 Our parting with Shale was short and abrupt; though I had come to appreciate the acerbic golem, she wasn’t exactly the emotional type. She bid each of us a curt farewell and stomped off, promising to meet up with us when the dwarves marched.

 Solona spent much of the time either holed up in the library or shopping with Leli; she avoided Anders like the plague, and he allowed it, seemingly thinking about what we’d talked about. Faren spent his time with Rica, or training with the new military class dwarves; Bel had begun work with Leliana on his speech, taking over where I left off, and spent much of his time alone, practicing his new skills. Oghren spent the time drunk or unconscious. Given what had happened with his wife, we all just stayed out of his way, though Mistress Leta insisted he have a bath every day or two. Like Alistair and me, Aedan and Zevran were, I guessed, enjoying a few days together in bed, given how I only saw either of them when we were forced to a meeting with Sereda. I almost never saw Gorim, and I wondered what was happening between him and Sereda, but never got a chance to ask. Morrigan spent her time reading, between pestering Jowan and Anders to learn new skills – she’d spent her time waiting for us to return from the Deep Roads working with Solona.

 When Leli wasn’t shopping, singing, or working with Bel, she was chasing Schmooples around the estate and trying to prevent Prince – or Oghren, or Faren, or any other dwarf who happened to wander by – from eating the poor little naked pig-rabbit. The nug was ridiculous, adorable in the ‘you’re so ugly that you’re cute’ sort of way. Leli adored her pet. The rest of us rolled our eyes and carried on.

 Our armour and arming clothes were finally delivered by Paider and a gaggle of assistants. The arming clothes were made of some sort of thick, slippery, breathable material that would apparently wick away sweat and not bunch or bind underneath leather and plate. The mages were given very light armour to go overtop; Solona’s was styled as a robe with the chest and shoulders covered in a light chain mesh for extra protection and leather leggings peeking through the shortened front panel. Jowan and Anders received what looked like leather armour that was even lighter than mine. Morrigan had refused robes, but from the glances she was giving Solona’s attractive new attire, I thought she might be regretting that. _Though she’d have be covering up an awful lot of skin if she wore something similar…_

 My new armour, of which there were two complete sets, was incredible. Made of supple, flexible leather of some sort, there were chest pieces, elaborate shoulders made up of overlapping plates that didn’t impair my movement at all, boots that hugged my feet and calves like a second skin, leggings with the crotch cut out, and a skirt-type thing of overlapping plates to cover the crotch. There were even helmets, cut close so as not to feel clunky, and with a convenient nook at the back for my coiled hair to fit. The armour was light enough that I could barely feel it when I moved, and so mobile I could have sworn I wasn’t wearing armour at all. And when I looked in the full-length mirror lugged in by a couple of the assistants, my jaw dropped – somehow, despite no skin showing anywhere, despite it being _armour_ , I looked incredibly feminine. My hips and chest curved fetchingly, hinting without showing what lay underneath, my calves looked cut, like I was wearing high heels, and my belly was flat and smooth. The helmets managed to look sleek, and the bump at the back looked sort of like an elaborate hairdo, the face plate like a beautiful Orlesian mask. One set had been dyed a gorgeous dark green, while the other set was a deep blood red.

 I didn’t even have time to admire the plate he presented to Faren, Bel, Oghren, Gorim, and Sten, or Leli’s set of leathers almost identical to mine but in blue, so enamoured was I with my own armour. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed; Alistair’s look of approval and open lust left me blushing deeper than the crimson armour I wore. Zev, Alistair, Aedan, and Duncan were the only ones without new armour; they didn’t need it, with how easily their plate and drake-scale cleaned up. Even Prince got an armoured, fitted helmet of sorts and a coat of armour to strap around his chest with small spikes sticking up; the ridiculous beast was prancing around gleefully, growling fiercely in the mirror before flopping happily to the ground at Aedan’s feet.

 The last thing he had for each of us was a tabard. They were a surprise, and I realised Duncan must have ordered them when he was measured for his armour. The tabards for the actual Wardens were Grey Warden regalia – royal blue and silver, with a griffon rampant displayed prominently across the chest and back. Those for the rest of us were the same colours, but with a smaller griffon on one shoulder, clearly identifying us as companions of the Wardens. We wouldn’t wear them all the time – especially with the bounties still out on Wardens – but we’d have them if we needed them.

 We were an intimidating group once we were all kitted up. I couldn’t wait to see the faces on the nobles in the Landsmeet when we walked in like this.

 I kissed Paider on the cheek in appreciation of his hard work; it couldn’t have been easy to get that many sets of armour and arming clothes ready in such a short time, and they were amazing. He blushed and stuttered, and I thought I might have partially ameliorated the disgust at having to make me armour.

 The night before we left Orzammar, Sereda held a reception in our honour at the Palace. Thankfully it was small, with only a handful of her closest friends and advisors, instead of the mass of the nobility from the celebration after her coronation. We drank and ate and laughed together for hours, and then she presented each of us with a boon of some sort.

 To Duncan, she presented a new treaty compelling the dwarves to aid the Fereldan Grey Wardens in the time of a Blight even if there was no King or Queen to honour the old one. To the rest of us she gave enchanted amulets specific to each of our areas of expertise. Mine increased my speed, allowing me to dodge more easily; when she placed it around my neck, I could feel a buzz like I’d had about six cups of coffee. I couldn’t wait to see how it improved my combat. She also gave me a small box tied with ribbon; it was perhaps three inches square by one inch deep. She told me not to open it until I was bathing at a campsite somewhere on our way to Redcliffe, and I assumed it would be some sort of dwarven-made soap, though the wink that accompanied the gift made me question that assumption.

 She made a speech promising to have the first part of the army marching towards Redcliffe by the end of the month, and the rest following behind at regular intervals. She’d committed to purchasing twenty of the bola launchers Dallard was designing, and I almost choked when I imagined sixty sovereigns being delivered to me in Redcliffe eventually.

 Exhausted and tipsy from all the wine they’d served at dinner, we finally made our way back to the Grey Warden estate. Alistair made love to me – in a bed, for the last time in a while – and then we slept until woken by Duncan the next morning. We geared up, appreciating the new arming clothes and armour again, and went to the dining room to find our packs full to bursting, waiting for us. Mistress Leta had struck again; after preparing a hearty breakfast of eggs, sausage, cheese, and bread, she had also packed us with enough food to feed an army for much longer than it would take to get to Redcliffe. We all got hugs from the motherly woman, even Oghren, who grumbled good-naturedly the whole time. She was teary-eyed, and made us all promise to visit again soon.

 Sereda and Lord Harrowmont, as well as Kardol and a few of the Legion, made a procession through the Diamond Quarter and the market towards the gates; the people of Orzammar turned out in droves to cheer and wave us on our way. The Hall of Heroes, far too revered a place for cheering crowds, was where they left us. Sereda bowed and we all returned the sign of respect, then she left and headed back to the Palace. After she walked away, Gorim slipped out of the shadows and nonchalantly joined us. Everyone noticed, but no one commented; the pained look on his face was obvious enough without asking questions.

 We climbed steps for what felt like forever, proceeding through the hall that was quiet as a tomb; the guards at the massive outside gates warned us it would be cold, so we all stopped to bundle up. Duncan had a brief discussion with someone he knew among the guard; they assured him that, once Sereda had returned from the Deep Roads, the emissaries of ‘King Loghain’ had been sent packing with assurances that if the dwarves were going to be involved in Fereldan politics, they wouldn’t be on Loghain’s side. The dwarves had always had good relations with the Grey Wardens.

 They opened the main gate this time instead of slipping us through the side door. I blinked owlishly against the bright light, so different than the reddish glow of flowing lava I’d become used to. And then I gasped against a gust of frigid wind that raced by with ice crystals floating in its wake. After the initial shock, it was mostly refreshing; the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and I’d never been so happy to see a snowbank in my entire life.

 Oghren immediately covered his face with his hands, evidently dizzy and nauseous; Faren shaded his eyes, looking distinctly green as well. Bel seemed to be managing alright, and he and Gorim each picked a sickly dwarf to support while they adjusted and learned to trust that they wouldn’t float off into the sky.  
  
With a giggle, I pulled away from where Alistair held me by the hand, and launched myself onto the nearest patch of flat ground, rolling onto my back with glee. I laid there for a moment, and then began making a snow angel, just appreciating ground below me that wasn’t the hard stone of the Deep Roads or Orzammar itself and actual sky above.

 A shadow fell over me, and I looked up into Aedan’s amused face; Alistair, Duncan and Leli stood beside him, watching me and laughing.

 “What are you doing?”

 “Making a snow angel.”

 “What’s a snow angel?”

 “It’s a…you know, never mind. I’m just going to lay here for a moment and enjoy this. You can all be stoic all you like – I’m freaking glad to be outside again, and you won’t make me feel guilty for it.”

 Everyone seemed to consider my words for a moment, and before long there were a half-dozen more bodies scattered about on the ground around me, mimicking my actions and giggling madly. Duncan, Sten, and the dwarves watched us with amusement; Zevran shivered just looking at us, and Morrigan sniffed disdainfully, though I caught her taking a few extra deep breaths and looking appreciatively at the sky. Prince danced joyfully around us, a chorus of yelps left in his wake as he stepped on people indiscriminately.

 Oghren looked at Duncan, once his initial dizziness had passed. “You topsiders always like this, or is it particular to Grey Wardens?”

 Duncan chuckled before signalling that our revelry was at an end. I scrambled to my feet and offered my hand to Alistair, who seemed slightly turtled on his back in the heavy plate armour he wore. He looked at me skeptically, shrugged, took my hand, and pulled me back down to land face first in a snow bank beside him, while everyone else laughed hysterically.

 Swearing and laughing in turns, I pulled a couple of handfuls of snow out of the neck of my armour, tossing them at Alistair spitefully. In the end, it took Sten and Oghren both to help lever Alistair up out of the snow, not that I was going to try to help a second time. Finally upright, Alistair came over and stole a kiss before taking one of my two heavy packs from me with a sunny smile. I punched his shoulder playfully.

 “I’m going to pay for that, aren’t I?” His expression was not especially apologetic.

 I scowled. “When you least expect it, yes.”

 His answering grin made my heart race.

 We met up with Bodahn, who I was amazed to see had waited in the shanty town outside the gates for us. With the gates open, half of the town was empty, but Bodahn assured us he’d done good business while we were away. He packed a few things into the cart, ushered Sandal up onto the bench seat, and led the way out of town and back towards Redcliffe.

 I was starting to feel like I spent my entire life on the road to and from Redcliffe, and when I grumbled about that, everyone seemed to agree. Even after spending over a month in Orzammar, I wasn't happy about seeing the same stretch of road. It took two days of walking before I realised the weather wasn’t going to improve much, despite the slowly dropping altitude – winter had hit in Ferelden while we had been underground – and my knees were soon sore from going downhill. If I hadn't been so happy just to be above ground, I would have been miserable. Instead, despite the grumbling, I trudged along in my snazzy new armour, holding Alistair's hand, and trying not to think too much about the temperature, the walking, or what the future might hold.

 We still hadn't discussed the timing of our wedding, and I wasn't keen to start the conversation. I assumed we'd wait until after the Blight, and couldn't decide if I was happy about that or disappointed. Part of me wanted to be married before – what if one of us didn't make it? I'd regret never having said our vows – but I didn't want to rush him, either. And I knew Eamon, and probably Theron, would have opinions on the subject. As much as I didn't care what Eamon thought, I knew Alistair still respected him in some ways. His opinion of us would matter, in the end, and given what had happened the last time we were in Redcliffe, I was sure it wouldn't be good. Not that I thought Alistair would leave me if Eamon advised him to – he wasn't some young stupid boy who would do whatever his former guardian told him to; he wasn't even as insecure and uncertain as he'd been in game – but it could make things...awkward.

 The first night, we camped in the cold, huddled together in one massive shelter against the face of the cliff for warmth. I ended up sharing a watch with Gorim; I suspected shenanigans on Aedan’s part, but when I shot him a sharp look, I got nothing but his ‘politician face’, which neither confirmed nor denied that I was being set up on purpose to have a talk with Gorim.

 When I woke in the early hours of the morning and wriggled out of Alistair’s warm arms, I sighed, feeling sorry for myself. Gorim was already up, sitting near the fire and staring out over the snowy landscape. He looked over and nodded as I sat nearby, back to the fire to keep warm while preserving my night vision. We sat quietly for some time; regardless of Aedan’s intentions when he’d set me up on watch with Gorim, I had no intention of bringing the subject up at all. It felt a bit like the elephant in the room, but it was his elephant and I was determined to respect it.

 Despite my resolve, the silence felt pregnant, somehow. Obviously Gorim noticed it as well; he fidgeted some, before finally huffing out a breath.

 “It was never going to work, anyway.”

 I looked over, surprised, and raised my eyebrows.

 He continued, “No, really. Even before, she would have been a princess and me a mere warrior. But now…she has two choices. Marry some Deshyr to garner support, or marry some Duster to make a point. I’m too low a caste to be helpful, and too high to serve as a demonstration.”

 I nodded understanding; what could I possibly say? He was probably right, and it was clearly tearing him apart. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m hoping you told her you were coming with us, though?”

 He nodded, eyes bright with unshed tears in the dim dawn light. “She doesn’t want to admit it, but she knows I’m right. She offered for me to stay as her Second, be a warleader, but…I couldn’t stay and watch her marry someone else, and I’m not a strategist. She doesn’t need me. Riana, Revan, the babe…I can help. I’m useful, there. And maybe someday, when it doesn’t hurt anymore, I can take them back to Orzammar with me, and Sereda and I can be…friends.”

 I smiled sadly. “I’m sorry.”

 He stood, and I took my hand back from his shoulder. “S’not your fault. Not anyone’s fault, really, not even Bhelen’s. Politics in Orzammar have never been for the faint at heart.” He cleared his throat and looked away, out at the sky. “Anyway, none of it matters until the Blight is defeated. Then I’ll go back to Denerim and hope Riana will take me back.”

 “She will. And we’re glad to have you with us, Gorim.”

 Just then I heard a sleepy voice hissing from behind me. “Would you sodding nug-humpers shut yer holes? Some of us are trying to sleep. Bad enough there’s all that sky up there, don’t need you yapping to keep me awake.”

 I rolled my eyes and Gorim snickered softly. “Sorry, Oghren.”

 The rest of our watch was spent in a much more peaceful silence, and we both pretended like nothing had happened when everyone else woke.

 Oghren had stopped ignoring me; I couldn’t decide at first whether I was happy about that or irritated. The sex jokes never stopped, and soon Aedan was more likely to be shouting at him than I was, claiming Oghren was giving him nightmares. Then it became about Oghren and me tormenting Aedan (and triggering some epic, staggering blushes from Alistair), and I wasn’t so annoyed anymore. Some of the others got in on it, bringing up more and more outlandish mental images to gross Aedan out with, and before long, it was sort of like Oghren and I were friends. As much as anyone could be friends with someone who spent almost all of his time, when not actively fighting or walking, passed out.

 Despite the cold weather, as we hit flatter ground, the misery of walking abated. Everyone was in better spirits. I was looking forward to seeing Wynne, and even Dariel again, and in the meantime, it had become a mostly tolerable journey. We laughed and chatted together as an enormous group, sang rowdy songs around the campfire, and generally tried not to think too hard about the troubles we’d be walking into after we returned to Redcliffe. Alistair and I made love frequently, and it was always new and exciting. He was thoughtful and inventive, and finally stopped worrying about the little bruises and aches I was left with the next morning. I worked with Morrigan to make healing potions and poultices, Zev to make poisons, and Leli started teaching me archery, which I was terrible at. And every day that it didn’t snow, I sparred, becoming more and more proficient with my two daggers. On Zevran’s advice, I sparred without the amulet Sereda had given me, so I didn’t learn to depend on it.

 At the first campsite with a stream, we all took turns washing up in the frigid water. I went last; after sparring with Alistair, we decided to bathe together, and it was cold enough we didn’t expect any funny business to be happening at the stream. Last minute, I remembered the box Sereda gave me. I finished washing my hair, got dressed, then sat on the bank and unwrapped the gift.

 Instead of soap or something similar, as I expected, I found a little grey stone attached to a stone handle. Confused, I gripped the handle and lifted, and was gifted with a full-on spray of warm water in the face. I squeaked and dropped it, and the water stopped running. Alistair came over in response to my squeak, laughing at me sitting there, soaked, with water dripping off my nose and out of my hair.

 I gingerly picked the thing up again, and examined it. I realised that somehow, Sereda had a warm water rune, such as those we’d seen in the baths in Orzammar, placed into a shaped stone piece that could be held or sat on a surface; she’d given me a working shower-head. I held it facing Alistair and turned it on, laughing at him as he sputtered indignantly. He made a grab for it and we wrestled like children, accidentally (and purposely) spraying each other until we were both out of breath and giggling like mad.

 “This is the best possible present Sereda could have given you,” Alistair finally said with a soft smile. “It’s the one thing I’ve heard you consistently miss from Earth.”

 “I know, right? In Orzammar I was plotting ways to get hold of some of these for wherever we end up living after the Blight, but I was thinking I’d have to buy a whole tub and have it shipped. It never occurred to me to get just the rune and make it portable.” I sat up on the bank, cold now, soaked as I was. “I’m definitely not showing everyone else – they’ll just want to borrow it all the time.”

 Alistair laughed. “And how else do you expect to explain why we’re both soaked, despite the weather, _after_ washing?”

 “Um…you threw me in the water? That’ll work.”

 “And Aedan will murder me!” he whined.

 “Not my problem!” I giggled.

 With a growl, Alistair grabbed me, pushing me onto my back and leaning over me. He kissed me breathless, then trailed kisses down my neck until he reached my damp torso. He grasped one breast, squeezing it softly into a peak and closing his lips around the nipple, stiff from the cold. He sucked gently before giving it a nip with his teeth, sharp despite the cloth covering. I gasped and twitched at the contrast – the warmth of his mouth and the cold of the wet cloth, the pleasure of the stimulation with the sharp pain of the bite, my expectation that I’d be scolded with the sudden flush of desire.

 “It is now, if you want me to finish this later,” he whispered, smirking at me once before jumping to his feet and scrambling a few feet away before I could grab him and drag him back down.

 I sighed, sitting up, wringing out my wet hair, and then slowly climbed to my feet. “You are evil.”

 He laughed and led the way back to camp, grinning the whole time. We got a variety of strange looks from our companions when we got back, which got both of us giggling again. I quickly showed Leli the little shower – which she was delighted with – before wishing everyone a good night and climbing into the tent I shared with Alistair. I was shivering by that time, and the two of us wasted no time stripping off our wet clothes and climbing under the covers together.

 He warmed me up rather efficiently with body heat and friction, before I fell asleep smiling, curled into his chest, warm and sated and content.

 I noticed Anders being very attentive to Solona during the journey; he set up her tent, most nights, and brought her tea or her meal when we made camp. If she complained even the slightest about being stiff or sore, he was there to heal away her aches. He didn’t push her to talk, but like Alistair had done for me, he was just always there if she needed the smallest thing. She tried not to respond to the attention, I could tell, but would still blush and have to hide a smile every time. I gave Anders a proud smile when she wasn’t looking; he flushed and grinned before hurrying over to carry one of her bags.

 We encountered only a couple of scattered bands of darkspawn as we travelled, to everyone’s relief. My new armour worked fantastically, and the amulet Sereda had given me made me feel invincible, at least a little bit. Aedan and Zevran picking apart my performance afterwards kept that from going to my head.

 I began to feel nervous as we approached Redcliffe. When I woke on the morning of the day we would arrive, I felt nauseous, entirely not looking forward to seeing Eamon and Isolde again, nor to receiving their judgement on our betrothal. Alistair, too, seemed nervous, and we washed up together with the shower before dressing silently. I wanted to be presentable as a young noblewoman when we arrived, so despite my misgivings, at Leli and Aedan’s urging, I wore my velvet dress instead of armour. I strapped one dagger to my thigh, and one hung from a sheath at my waist, but I felt ridiculously vulnerable travelling through the countryside in a dress. Leli did my hair in a braid, and even talked me into a few cosmetics for effect.

Fortunately, the road near Redcliffe was clear of both darkspawn and bandits, and we made it to the castle without event. I got more and more nervous, the closer we got, and my subdued attitude wore off on the rest of the group. We were all tired after weeks of walking, but once my nerves became more apparent, no one spoke for the last couple of hours.

 The patrols on the road, on horseback – interesting, as we’d not seen many horses in Ferelden – sent word ahead so the castle knew to expect us. Alistair stopped me just in front of the castle and kissed me once, hard and desperate. We pressed our foreheads together briefly, then without a word, turned and went inside.

 We were met by Theron – whose hair had grown, the brown dye almost entirely washed out now – Eamon, Isolde, and Teagan, as well as Wynne and Dariel. Dariel stood with an elf that I recognised from the game, the Dalish emissary, Caron, as well as Mithra, one of the hunters we’d met in the Brecilian Forest. Dariel and Mithra stood suspiciously close together, and I smiled. There was also a mage I didn’t recognise standing with Connor, and a Templar without a helm. The mage was a middle-aged, plump woman with a pleasant face, and the Templar an older, grizzled, grey-haired veteran with a dramatic facial scar who, for all that, had a kind look.

 Theron gave us all a smile and winked at me, making me grin; my grin brought out the scowl on Isolde’s face, but she mercifully stayed silent. Alistair held my hand tightly, and I saw Eamon’s forehead wrinkle when he noticed. He welcomed us back to Redcliffe, and invited us all to have a rest before meeting for a planning session in the morning.

 “But Alistair, if you would, might I have a word before you settle in?”

 Alistair and I exchanged meaningful looks, and then reluctantly parted hands so he could follow Eamon into his study. I noticed Teagan shooting Eamon a dirty look, and Isolde shooting a similar one at me, and wondered what in the hell that was all about.

 Theron rolled his eyes, then came over and offered his arm to me. “Walk you to your room, my Lady?”

 I giggled and took his arm; everyone else had already scattered, back to their usual rooms I assumed. As we walked along, Theron surreptitiously looked around, and when we were alone, he quickly turned, pulling me through a random door in the hallway. It was some sort of storage closet, and there was barely room for the two of us, once he closed the door. At least there was a lantern lit, so it wasn’t fully dark.

 I was briefly worried he’d resumed his previous, lecherous attitude towards me. “Theron, what th-“

 “Shh.” He interrupted me with a finger on my lips. “I need to tell you what Eamon is talking to Alistair about. I was hoping for a chance to give you both a heads up, but Eamon ambushed Alistair before I got the chance. And I promised Eamon I wouldn’t tell, so we have to be quick and quiet.”

I sighed. “Go ahead.” I was sure I knew – trying to convince Alistair to put me aside for some nice, noble bride chosen by Eamon to breed Theirin heirs.

 “He’s going to try to convince Alistair to break things off with you,” _I knew it, I just knew it…_ “and try to convince you to marry me.”

 “That’s just so typical – I hate his elitist sh….wait, what?”          


	92. Changing Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the explicit version of this chapter with descriptive sex. If that's not your thing, please check me out on fanfiction.net or livejournal for a not-explicit version.

Chapter Ninety-Two: *Changing Plans

 

“Eamon’s going to try to convince Alistair to break things off with you,” _I knew it, I just knew it…_ “and try to convince you to marry me.”

 “That’s just so typical – I hate his elitist sh….wait, what?”

 He shushed me again. “He wants me to put aside Anora – you know that, and honestly, he may be right – and he thinks that if we can garner proof of you being the ‘lost Cousland’, I will gain support in the Landsmeet if I marry you, especially after what Rendon Howe did to your parents.”

 “What makes him-“ My face was red, my voice increasing in volume and pitch, and Theron covered my mouth again. I lowered my voice and started again. “What makes him think I would agree to such a thing? I’d be a terrible Queen! I don’t know anything about Fereldan politics, and no one in the Landsmeet knows me from Adam. Why…?”

 “Blood matters, to him, Sierra.” He sighed. “And it honestly wouldn’t occur to him that you’d have any say in the matter. Usually marriage alliances are negotiated with the family. You think Anora or I had a choice? He thinks he just has to convince Alistair to step aside, and then make a deal with Aedan or Fergus. What you want would never be an impediment, in his mind. As for your abilities – it wouldn’t matter. If he was responsible for finding Ferelden a new Queen, he’d have a lot of power in the Landsmeet. He wouldn’t expect you to be involved in the politics – he thinks you and I would be off somewhere acting clueless, leaving him to run the country.”

 I barked out a laugh. “He’s in for a nasty surprise, then. Alistair isn’t going to step aside _.” He wouldn’t, would he? No. He wouldn’t._ “And I won’t agree to the marriage. Neither would Aedan. I don’t know what Fergus would think, but it doesn’t matter.”

 I looked at Theron’s face, arranged in a carefully neutral, mask-like expression. “It’s not about you, Cailan.” I hadn’t called him Cailan since Lothering – it felt weird, but it seemed important to making my point. “I’m in love with Alistair, and he loves me. And I would truly be a terrible Queen. What Ferelden needs right now is not another puppet monarch, only with Eamon running the show instead of Loghain. Ferelden needs its King strong, and you need, eventually, to find someone who will help you, not push you aside or be incompetent beside you. You need a Queen, a real one, and that’s not me.”

 “Just so you know, I don’t agree with you about your competence. Not at all.” He raised his hand to forestall my interruption. “But I know it’s not what you want, and I would never get in the middle between you and Alistair. He’s suffered enough from being disregarded by Theirin men.”

 I smiled softly. “Thank you, Cailan. _Theron_.” I shook my head. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, one day. Just don’t marry Celene, or I’ll kill you myself, even if it means Alistair becomes the King.”

 He laughed, briefly, and then his face fell. “Let’s worry about what I’m going to do about Anora, first, before we plan my wedding to anyone?”

 I winced. “Can I ask? You can tell me to screw off, but…do you love her?”

 He considered, which was really enough of an answer in itself. If someone asked me that about Alistair, I wouldn’t have to hesitate. “I…do, I suppose, but…it’s not romantic. I care for her, but I’m not in love with her, if that makes sense.”

 “It does. Hard to be married to someone in that situation.”

 “She feels much the same, which is why we managed to put up with each other, I suppose. She was rather better at the whole ‘running a country’ thing.”

 “If that was true, why is Loghain her regent? Why would she need a regent at all?”

 He looked at me, eyebrows raised. “That’s…a very good point. A question I intend to ask her, when we get there.”

 “I get the impression Eamon’s reasoning about you needing an heir is really just an excuse to oust Anora and get more power for himself.”

 “Definitely, though I’m guessing that’s not the question you really want to ask.” He smiled sadly, but not defensively.

 “Well, the heir thing…I mean, I hate to ask this, and you’ll probably have my head chopped off or something, but…are you sure, totally sure, that the issue lies with her?” I grimaced as the question popped out, seemingly without permission.

 He sighed. “I am.”

 “I…oh. You sound rather sure about that. Do you…?”

 He looked away. “Before I married Anora, there was someone. She would never have been able to be queen, and anyway Anora and I were betrothed at birth, so I wouldn’t have had the choice even if Seinille wasn’t an elf. She was beautiful, and kind, and smart, and funny…she worked in the Palace, and, I suppose ‘things led to things’. We had a daughter, Mara. You’d never have had to ask if she was mine – damn Theirin nose. I loved her more than anything I could ever have imagined. I provided for her, but I couldn’t claim her as mine with an elven servant for a mother. When Father found out, he was so angry…but he didn’t come down as hard on me as I expected, which makes sense in retrospect. Despite his anger, he doted on Mara. Now I know he was probably looking for something of Alistair in her little face.”

 “Where is she now?”

 He looked away. “Gone. There was a plague in the Alienage when she was two. I tried to get to them, I tried so hard…but Father wouldn’t open the gates. Wouldn’t let me send for her. Said there’d be too much suspicion if we broke quarantine. I hired a smuggler to take in supplies – poultices, herbs, food…but I know Seinille. She shared them with her neighbours. Nursed the sickest ones when no one else would. She used the last of the supplies on Mara when she got sick, but it wasn’t enough. They both died.”

 “Oh, Theron, I’m so…I’m so sorry.” _I’m such a bitch for bringing up this trauma._ “It wasn’t your fault. I can’t even imagine…”

 “No,” he replied tiredly. “You can’t. And I hope you never can. A year later Father died, and a few months after that Anora and I married. I tried to put it behind me. I wanted to be a good husband, but I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t cope with losing them all, and I withdrew totally. By the time I saw that, saw what was happening…Anora and I had drifted even further apart, and I’d abandoned my duties so long that I was just in the way when I came back. So I just left her to it. And every month, when we hadn’t conceived, Anora would be so sad…she didn’t want my comfort, so after a while I stopped offering. Played at being a hero, a warrior, and left her.”

 I considered his sad face for a moment before reaching up – he was almost as tall as Alistair, I noted – and pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry.” It was all I had to offer, but I got the impression no one else had known, or if they had, none had offered any comfort at all.

 He stiffened for a moment before hugging me back tightly, but just briefly. He turned away, composing himself, and when he turned back, his mask was back in place, jocular expression belying any emotion. _He’s a better actor than I gave him credit for._

 “We had better be moving if we don’t wish to be caught in here.”

 After peeking out the door of the closet, he offered me his arm again and ushered me out, walking me the rest of the way to my door. “Goodnight, my Lady.” He kissed my hand, and I rolled my eyes when he winked at me. I went into my room, closing the door softly behind me, taking a big breath.

 My things had been delivered to the room, and I changed into my usual linen sleepwear. A servant came by and asked if I’d like a bath; I declined, but did accept the offer of having food brought up.

 “For two?” I requested, and she nodded quietly; I was grateful she didn’t ask more questions than that. _I’m sure most of the servants know anyway – seems to be how things work in this world._ I wasn’t sure that Alistair would risk coming to my room after his talk with Eamon, but I hoped he’d find a way. After my conversation with his brother and his with Eamon, I needed to be with him.

 I picked at some food, read a little from a book I’d found in my room on Fereldan history, and finally dozed in the chair in front of the fire, still hoping. It was late when I was disturbed by a soft knock on my door. I stretched my neck as I crossed the room; I’d gotten a kink from sleeping sitting up. I opened the door to see Alistair looking haggard. I stepped back and he followed me inside, closing the door behind him.

 He held out his arms to me, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding as I fell into them. “Are you okay?” I asked.

 I felt more than heard him nod. “Fine. Just tired.”

 “Theron told me what Eamon wanted.”

 He stiffened, and I stepped back slightly to be able to see his face. His hands tightened on my arms. “He did, did he?”

 “Yes. He doesn’t agree, Alistair. He wasn’t trying to convince me. He was warning me.”

 He relaxed and pulled me to him again. “I told Eamon no.”

 “I know.” I pressed my face into his chest, squeezing my arms around his waist.

 “You didn’t doubt me?” He looked down at me with a skeptical grin.

 “No. Well, maybe for a moment. Like, a tenth of a second. And then I remembered it’s you.”

 His smile was brilliant as he leaned down to claim my lips in a heated kiss. His voice was a low growl in my ear when he pulled away, leaning down to nip and suck at the skin on my neck. “Mine.”

 I moaned, arousal shooting straight through to my core as he pulled me even closer so I could feel him, already hard and ready, between us. “Yes. Yours.”

 He kissed me again, backing me against the wall, lifting me so my legs wrapped around his waist. He fumbled with my nightgown, finally managing to lift it up and off. “Mine.”

 I gasped as he ground his hips against me, the rough fabric of his trousers rubbing me intimately. I started fighting with the buttons on his shirt, biting his bottom lip until he hissed and rolled against me again. “Yours. I swear.”

 I finally got the shirt off him, scratching my nails down the smooth plane of his muscular chest. He was panting as he fumbled with the laces on his trousers, and then I finally felt the heat of him pressing up against my wet folds. He adjusted his grip on my hips and thrust, and then he was in me, filling me, stretching me delightfully, and I let out a long, ragged moan.

 “Mine,” he growled, then pulled back and thrust again, sheathing himself even deeper. “Mine.”

 He’d never been this possessive, never been this aggressive, and I should have been afraid or uncomfortable, but I wasn’t. I loved it – the discomfort of his fingers digging into my hips, the smoothness of his skin against mine, the delicious sensation of fulfillment when he was inside me. I wanted him to own me, my body, just for that moment, the way he’d owned my heart since Lothering.

 “Yours, yes, please Alistair…” I was babbling, alternating declaring my love for him and begging him for the release he was driving me towards. His steady pace and smooth thrusts took me higher and higher as his teeth sank into my skin, marking me, and I couldn’t quite get there, despite reaching hard for my climax.

 “Mine!” he roared, driving into me, and his erratic thrusts as he spilled himself finally sent me over, squealing his name and writhing in his grasp as my orgasm made my vision grey out and the room spin.

 Seemingly without difficulty, he finally turned and laid me down on the bed, shucked his trousers, which had puddled around his ankles, then climbed up behind me to spoon my naked, sweaty form to him. I was so tired I could barely open my eyes.

 “S’food over there,” I gestured towards my little table, “if you’re hungry.”

 “Thanks, but I’m not getting out of this bed until my legs stop shaking.”

 I grinned, falling asleep mid-chuckle.

 I woke as the sun rose in the morning; shutters just aren’t as nice as blinds for blocking the light, and I squinted as a shaft of early morning sunlight fell across my face. I was curled on my side, head on Alistair’s shoulder, and when I looked up, I caught him looking down at me with a soft smile.

 “’Cause that’s not creepy.” I grinned, and he chuckled.

 “What can I say? You’re gorgeous, and you look so peaceful when you sleep.”

 “You’re forgiven.” I turned my head, pressing my lips to his shoulder. “Oh, ugh. We reek.”

 “Yeah well, I figured we could have a shower later. I, um…” he flushed, and ran his hand nervously through his hair.

 I tried not to smile at the adorable habit. “Yes?”

 “I, well, I just wanted to say….”

 I raised my eyebrows, and he cleared his throat, blush deepening.

 “I wanted to say that, all evidence to the contrary, I don’t actually think I own you.”

 I hesitated a moment, waiting for the punchline of the joke, and then burst out laughing when I saw he was serious.

 “Really? That’s what you were worried about?”

 “Well, last night I was rather…” he trailed off, looking lost.

 “Possessive?” I offered, and he grimaced and nodded. I giggled. “It’s okay. I certainly enjoyed being _possessed_.”

 He huffed out a laugh. “I’m trying to apologise, here. I just…I didn’t think you’d go along with Eamon’s plan or anything, but just the thought of you with someone else…”

 “I know. I almost wrestled Isabela, remember? A little jealousy every now and then is actually quite sexy, as long as you don’t take it too seriously.” I stretched, enjoying the slight stiffness in my hips. “And I do like Commanding Alistair. He’s delicious.”

 He traced his finger across my cheek then down to my neck, blushing again. “There’s good news, though.”

 “Oh?”

 “Apparently I’ve gotten over the fear of being too rough with you.”

 I realised he was stroking the skin where he’d bitten my neck; it must have left a hell of a bruise. I giggled, and he laughed with me. He kissed me gently, then went to get up.

 “Shall I grab you a potion?”

 “Nah. Leave it. I’m going to enjoy seeing Eamon’s face when he notices.”

 At that, Alistair really did laugh. I snuggled into his chest, enjoying having a quiet moment alone with my intended.

 “Can I ask you something?”

 His expression was oddly diffident, and I looked up at him, suddenly concerned. “Anything.”

 “Does my…background bother you?”

 “Your background?” I was confused. “You mean the whole ‘son of Maric’ thing? Not really. It isn’t going to matter for us. Cailan’s alive, so you will stay a Grey Warden, and I can just be your wife. Why would I care about that?”

 “And you’d be happy as the wife of someone who’s just a Grey Warden?”

 I kissed him briefly. “Ecstatically. I’m not some pampered noble, remember? As long as I’m with you, I’ll be the happiest woman alive.”

 He flushed slightly. “I’m glad, though when I was asking, I was thinking more about my mother.”

 I considered what I knew of Fiona, from the books and the few things Duncan had said. “Well, it bothers me on your behalf that she and Maric left you with Eamon, of all people, but…oh! Do you mean the mage thing? That doesn’t really bother me much. Our whole templar thing probably means our kids won’t be mages, so I won’t have to declare war on the Chantry, so…no, it doesn’t worry me.”

 His expression didn’t relax, and I wondered what I was missing.

 “I meant more her…physical characteristics.”

 “I don’t even know what she looks like, Alistair. I’m sure they described her in the book, but I don’t remember.”

 “What about her ears?” He looked frustrated now, and I was even more convinced I was missing something.

 “Is there something odd about her ears? Maybe I wasn’t around for that conversation.”

 He growled slightly. “They’re pointy, Sierra.”

 “Of course they’re pointy! She’s an elf!”

 Alistair face-palmed, and then started laughing. “I can’t believe you’re so oblivious. I know she’s an elf – I’m trying to ask if that bothers you! I’m elf-blooded. Eamon thinks it’s an insult to your family name to allow you to marry an elf-blooded bastard.”

  _Oh!_ “Eamon’s an asshole; I don’t give a nug’s ass what he thinks, honestly. I don’t discriminate against elves, honey. It wouldn’t matter to me if you were fully elven. Where I come from, people only know about elves in books and things, and they’re always described as beautiful and wise and much, much better than humans. I don’t care about the shape of your ears. I love you, and if you were just like you are, only elven, I wouldn’t love you any less, and I’d still want to marry you.”

 “If people find out…they’ll look down on you. On our children.”

 “I’d like to see them try!” I sat up, turning to Alistair, expression fierce. “I’ve been thinking, actually, about what I’d like to do with myself after the Blight, and I think I’d like to find some way to help improve things for elves and mages here. No one should be discriminated against the way they are; it’s disgusting! Anyone who said a single thing about my husband or my children had better run far, far away before I catch them.”

 Alistair sat up and pulled my into his lap, cuddling me against his chest. “Okay, okay, I get it. I won’t ask again. I just…wanted to be sure. I worried about what being elf-blooded meant for me, but sort of…forgot about it, with everything else happening. It didn’t even occur to me that it would affect you too until Eamon brought it up as an argument against us staying together. I just had to check.”

 “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” I grinned up at him and kissed his chin. “Mine.”

 He pressed his forehead against mine briefly, before throwing me back on the bed and climbing over me, expression wicked. “Allow me to demonstrate my relief, my Lady.”

 Much later, when we were finally dressed, we wandered together into the main hall, joining the others for breakfast. I was accosted by Blake along the way, who barrelled into me, wrapping his skinny arms around my waist in an enthusiastic hug. He’d probably grown three inches since I’d left, and his gaunt face was starting to fill in. He looked happy and healthy. I hugged him back, and promised to meet up with him later to catch up. He hurried off, smiling and waving as he skipped around the corner. I grinned; clearly, Theron had taken good care of the little scamp.

 Eamon didn’t even try to hide his scowl when Alistair and I walked in together; Teagan looked relieved, and Theron mostly amused when he noticed the hickey on my neck. Aedan’s look was disgusted, and Zevran’s appraising; I almost had to leave again, hiding my giggle was so difficult. Alistair’s attitude seemed to be nine parts pride mixed with one part anxiety as he looked at my brother.

 As we sat down, Eamon got up and excused himself with a pissy growl, and Alistair, Theron, Teagan, Aedan, and I cracked up laughing as soon as he and Isolde were gone, much to everyone else’s confusion. Leli looked at me expectantly, but I couldn’t even speak, I was giggling too hard.

 Aedan took pity on her. “Arl Eamon approached me last night wishing to negotiate a marriage contract between Sierra and Cai- Theron.”

 Everyone who hadn’t been laughing looked between Alistair and I, examined the rather noticeable mark on my neck, and cracked up as well.

 When the laughter died down, I asked Aedan, “And what, exactly, did you tell him?”

 “That I valued my life more than to try and force you into something you’re not willing to do.” That garnered another round of laughter.

 Theron turned to Alistair and me. “I hear that things are even more advanced than I had assumed; Aedan tells me you’re engaged?”

 I nodded, and was greeted by a smile and a hug from Wynne, and an approving nod from Teagan. Theron leaned back, a mischievous look on his face.

 “Well that’s easy, then. We can solve this without any trouble. I don’t know when you planned to get married, but I would strongly recommend you do it now. Within the next few days, before Eamon has a chance to work any mischief.”

 My jaw dropped, and I turned to look at Alistair, who was staring at Theron with the same open-mouthed shock. Everyone else started talking all at once, and he let them shout for a moment before he raised his hands.

 “I know, I know. But it’s honestly the only way to permanently take Sierra out of Eamon’s notice. He’s not wrong – a marriage alliance with one of the most prominent noble families in Ferelden would garner me support in the Landsmeet, and it won’t be long before he’s not the only noble suggesting this. The only way to ward that kind of scrutiny off is to have a marriage be impossible. And the best way to ensure that is for the only daughter of the Cousland family to already be wed.”

 I continued staring at Alistair, who’d turned to look at me as well, face red as a tomato. Everyone seemed to want to be as far away from the uncomfortable scene as possible, and they all excused themselves, until Alistair and I were alone.

 He looked around the main hall, not exactly private, and turned back to me. “Ramparts?”

 I nodded mutely and took his hand, following him up to our usual haunt overlooking the town from the roof of the castle. He sat with his back to the wall and pulled me into his lap. I breathed a sigh of relief; clearly he wasn’t totally freaked out. I snuggled into his chest and pressed my face to his neck.

 “So…” He trailed off, clearly unsure where to start.

 “Well, I wasn’t expecting that, I have to admit. I thought Eamon would be trying to get rid of me to somehow get you to marry some nobleman’s daughter and breed Theirins, you know, just in case.”

 “I admit I had only thought about the ramifications of that little…disagreement you had with him last time we were here. It hadn’t occurred to me there might be more problems. I don’t totally understand, really, what there would be to gain for him.”

 “Honestly, I think he figures I’d be out there doing some charity work, and Cailan and I would leave running the country to him.”

 “I don’t think Cailan would do that.”

 “Me either. Nor would I, were I to agree to becoming a queen. Which I wouldn’t.”

 “Are you sure-“

 I punched his shoulder, hard. “If you ask me if I’m sure I don’t want to be with Cailan, just remember – I have a dagger, and I know how to use it.”

 He rubbed his shoulder ruefully, then pulled me in for a soft kiss. “Just checking.”

 “Well, don’t.” I stuck my tongue out at him, and he chuckled. “So… When had you thought we would get married, anyway?”

 He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, reminding me strikingly of Cailan in that moment. “I don’t know. I sort of assumed after the Blight ended, but…I mean, what if something happened? Sooner might be better, right?”

 “I thought the same. I was going to wait until after whatever fuss Eamon put up before mentioning it, though.” I laughed nervously.

 “So maybe Cailan is right?” He looked incredulous – whether over the subject matter, or the fact that Cailan could be right about something, I wasn’t sure.

 “…Maybe?”

 “Maker’s ass. So, are we really going to do this? Get married right away?”

 “I think, maybe, yes?” I winced, still unsure that he was really ready.

 He thought about it for a moment, and then suddenly tilted my chin back, grabbing my left hand and fiddling with the engagement ring. “I think I’m doing this wrong. Let me try again.

 “Sierra Jones-Cousland, would you do me the honour of marrying me? Perhaps the day after tomorrow?”

 I smiled widely and threw my arms around his neck. “Yes. Please.”

 He kissed me then, and it was sweet and soft and perfect. We sat there for probably an hour, just kissing and snuggling and basking in our own little personal glow. Finally I stood up reluctantly.

 “If we’re going to do this, I suppose I had better get planning.”

 “And I think Eamon is probably still going to want to meet with everyone.”

 “Alistair…can we…would you be upset if we don’t have Eamon at the wedding?”

 “After this? You kidding? I don’t even want him there. But can we invite Teagan?”

 “Of course. And Kaitlyn.”

 “Kaitlyn?”

 “Never mind. I need to go talk to Leli. And…do you suppose Duncan would walk me down the aisle?”

 “I don’t even know what that is, but yes, I imagine he’d do whatever you want. We’re going to need to meet with the Revered Mother, too.”

 “Can we get married in the village? I haven’t met her, but I’m going to guess I won’t like whoever Isolde chose to be the mother in the chapel here. And I know Revered Mother Hannah.”

 “Sounds good.”

 We walked down into the castle hand-in-hand, only to be approached by a servant asking us to meet with Eamon in his office as soon as possible. I slipped away from Alistair to find Leliana first, promising to meet him there right after.


	93. The Wedding Planner

Chapter Ninety-Three: The Wedding Planner

 

I found Leli in her room when I knocked, and she let me in. “So? How fare you and Alistair?”

 “Leli…I have to run to a meeting with the Arl, but I need a really big favour.” I struggled to keep a sad-looking frown on my face,

 Her forehead wrinkled in a concerned expression. “Anything, my friend. What would you have of me?”

 I looked up at her from under my lashes, still fighting a grin. “Do you think you could help me plan a wedding in only two days?”

 She hesitated for a moment, and when my grin broke through she squealed and hugged me enthusiastically.

 She started babbling about the details, mostly to herself as far as I could tell. I told her we wanted to use the Chantry in the village, but had no other real plans.

 “Do you trust me, Sierra?”

 “Of course, Leli, why?”

 “Please, let me do this. For you both. I will plan everything. You will love it, I promise. Don’t lift a finger, yes?”

 “Okay, but…are you sure? That’s a lot of work.”

 “Nonsense. It will be perfect. I will come get you when you need to meet with Revered Mother Hannah. Now go, go – I have work to do, and you must meet with Arl Eamon.”

 I left her frantically writing lists for herself and headed down to Eamon’s study. I was the last to arrive: Duncan; Aedan; Alistair; Teagan; Theron; a mage I remembered from the game, the emissary Pether, with the grizzled templar we’d seen the night before; Caron, the Dalish emissary; and Gorim, as the stand-in dwarven emissary had all beat me there. There was another man I didn’t recognise, and he was introduced as Terrence. A group of former werewolves had apparently taken Aedan’s advice, roughly armed themselves, and presented themselves at Redcliffe wishing to aid us against the Blight, and Terrence was their emissary. I wondered if he was the same werewolf who was the emissary in game if you sided with them against the Dalish, but it seemed rude to ask.

 I noticed Eamon had a brief, satisfied, smug grin when Alistair and I arrived separately, but it was quickly quashed when, as there were no seats left available, I sat in Alistair’s lap instead. I had to look away to stop myself from giggling madly.

 We talked Blight business first; Duncan had apparently had word that Riordan would be joining us within a few days, and between the Dalish, the former werewolves, Riordan, and a handful of mages and templars, Duncan set out patrol routes for each group to follow so we would have early warning if the horde moved. With everything that had changed since I’d come to Thedas, we had no idea how long we had until the Archdemon revealed itself. We hoped to buy the dwarves a month or two to train and mobilise. Caron, Terrence, and Pether assured us that they could have messages sent out right away to begin the patrols.

 Once that was done, the elf, the mage, and the templar left, with Gorim following behind; the rest of us got comfortable to talk about the Landsmeet.

 Eamon asked me to recap the events of the game, which I did. I tried to be sensitive to Theron’s feelings, but I had to admit that I couldn’t be sure if rescuing Anora from Howe was a trap. I explained my thinking – it was possible that Anora hoped that Howe and the Wardens would fight each other, leaving the survivor weak enough to have to make a deal with her. Theron flinched, but he didn’t disagree that it was a possibility.   We thought the unrest in the Alienage should be much less an issue, given the supplies and warning we’d smuggled to Valendrian; secretly I wondered if Anora had known her father planned to sell elves to slavers, in which case she might still give us a tip about problems in the Alienage.

 Eamon decided he would send messages to any of the nobles he felt would be friendly to our cause – which was most of them, after the tales of Loghain abandoning the army in Ostagar had spread from those who’d escaped – and that we would march towards Denerim in a week. In the meantime, we would need to meet with the various emissaries, try to get everyone geared up as well as possible, and be ready to move.

  _And get married._ I giggled softly at the thought, earning myself a dirty glare from Eamon.

 We all left Eamon in his study, and at a significant glance from me, everyone followed Alistair and I silently into the library, where all of the rest of our companions waited. Alistair took my hand, and we both turned to the group.

 “Sierra and I would like to,” he gulped, looked over at me for reassurance, and then continued, “formally invite all of you to our wedding. The day after tomorrow, if at all possible.”

 Everyone cheered and lined up for hugs and handshakes, much to both Alistair’s and my embarrassment. I was nervous when Aedan approached me, but he swept me into a bear hug and his congratulations seemed sincere. At the same time, I noticed Zev lean in and whisper something to Alistair which made him blanch and nod seriously, and I guessed my almost-brother-in-law had just delivered a threat to his health if he hurt me. I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped me, and Alistair shot me a dirty look as I snickered.

 Leliana, after hugs, grabbed Wynne, Solona, and Morrigan and began dragging the three mages out of the room, twittering about shopping; Aedan grabbed Alistair and Theron, and they wandered out discussing politics and the Landsmeet. I snagged Duncan as the rest of the companions wandered away, and he turned to look at me curiously.

 “Yes, Sierra?”

 “Can I ask you a favour, Duncan?”

 “Of course, my dear. Anything.”

 “I was wondering…on Earth, in most weddings, the groom stands at the front, and the bride is escorted down the aisle by her father, who ‘gives her away’, as it were. The thing is, my father is dead, and I’d never even met him, so…”

 I looked down, shuffling awkwardly, and waited; Duncan didn’t reply. After a pregnant pause, I sighed.

 “I’m sorry. It’s not really the tradition here, I imagine; I shouldn’t have asked. Don’t wor-“

 Duncan cut me off, putting his hand on my shoulder. I glanced up to see him smiling broadly at me, eyes suspiciously bright. “I’m honoured you would ask me. I would love to.”

 I grinned and hugged Duncan again, kissing his cheek as he harrumphed in embarrassment.

 The next two days were a bit of a blur. Eamon was busy writing letters, leaving the rest of us alone, thankfully; Leliana rushed around doing Maker-knew-what, and I honestly didn’t have it in me to ask. I didn’t want her to think I didn’t trust her.

 Mother Hannah was more than happy to agree to marry us, especially when Theron spoke to her and admitted who he was and that he approved. I thought she might have been willing to do almost anything in return for the hope displayed on her face when she found out the King still lived, but agreed easily to keep the secret.

 We planned the wedding for late in the afternoon, the day after next, and Leli assured me everything was set. We were to have a small reception in the Redcliffe tavern afterwards. Alistair and I both had fittings – what she thought she could accomplish in a little over a day, I wasn’t sure, and I assured her that one of the dresses I already owned would be more than sufficient for the task, but she would hear nothing of it.

 I spent the first night wrapped in Alistair’s ardent embrace, shouting his name to the skies. The second night, my last night as an unmarried woman, was different.

 After supper, Aedan and Theron came to claim Alistair and drag him away from the supper table. The other men in our party, even including Sten, followed, hooting and making jokes and lewd comments; it occurred to me to wonder if Redcliffe had a brothel. I went to object, but Aedan shot me a reassuring wink. Sighing, I sat back down.

 “If he isn’t sober by tomorrow afternoon, I’m going to kill you, brother.”

 Aedan just laughed.

 Once the men were gone, Wynne, Leli, Morrigan, and Solona were left. I was briefly worried Leliana had planned some sort of embarrassing bachelorette party, but she had other plans. The five of us spent the evening drinking wine, telling stories, and laughing ourselves sick in the library. I had a pleasant buzz on, but not enough to give me a hangover come morning. We went back to Wynne’s room and spent time doing each other’s nails and braiding each other’s hair; all it needed was a good pillow fight to be the most cliché sleepover of all time.

 Each of the girls presented me with a piece of slinky lingerie, much to my embarrassment. I blushed crimson, to their delight. Even Morrigan joined in, telling stories of particularly hapless men she’d met in her travels, senseless in the face of her scantily-clad body. Solona told entirely implausible stories of Circle Tower love triangles and clandestine affairs, and we all laughed when Wynne tried to deny such a thing could happen. Leli regaled us with dramatic love stories from history. And of course, somehow we ended up talking about shoes…at length.

 At Leliana’s insistence, I shared her room; she’d decided to take seriously the Earth superstition about a groom seeing his bride on their wedding day. She woke me early, subjecting me to a long bath with various bath salts, a complete facial and manicure, and spent an eternity battling with my hair. She had tamed my curls to pile on my head, tendrils dropping down to frame my face. Somewhere in there, she also got herself ready.

 Then it was time. With my cloak on and pulled up to hide my face, we each carried a bag of things down to the Chantry in the village. Leli’s was suspiciously large and bulky, though she hadn’t let me look inside. Mother Hannah graciously allowed us the use of her study to change. Wynne had to join us to help me into the dress. Leliana allowed me a small snack – without comment about my habitually large appetite, though I had no doubt she knew I was a Grey Warden and hadn’t admitted it – then I was ushered to the back of the Chantry and through an inconspicuous door.

 I stood, impatiently, in a tiny closet someone had hurriedly emptied out just for this occasion. I rolled my eyes at the necessity, but decided I’d brought it on myself when I allowed Leliana to be my wedding planner. She had skillfully drawn out all sorts of obscure information about weddings back on Earth since we’d left Orzammar, and was determined to follow as many of the traditions as possible. Protests that I wasn’t that traditional had gone completely unheard.

 My feet were starting to hurt in the ridiculous shoes the bard had picked out. I had never been a fan of heels back when I was just a girl, never mind now that I was travelling with a group of Grey Wardens and trying to help kill the Archdemon…but Leliana had insisted that since Alistair was so tall, I had to at least partially make up the difference. I sighed for probably the five-hundredth time.

 “Leli, would you knock it off? That stinking train is fine. It’s not like I’m not going to trip on it later; I don’t think wrinkles are really the biggest problem with it.”

 I wore a white dress, the whitest thing I’d seen in Ferelden, made of lace and silk. It had a tight bodice, and thick straps that just barely circled the tops of my arms. It lifted and separated in a way I hadn’t expected from Fereldan undergarments, and gave me the appearance of much more impressive cleavage than I actually owned. It had boning to prop everything up, and I mostly didn’t feel like I was going to have a major wardrobe malfunction. Mostly. The skirt was flowing, leading back to a train that was trailing behind me for several feet. And there was a veil, pinned in my hair though not covering my face, of some sort of diaphanous white material that flowed down past my waist. It had roses embroidered in white thread, which made me smile.

 I had absolutely no idea where Leliana could have come up with such a dress with only two days’ notice.

 Just as she opened her mouth to snark back, a knock sounded on the door.

 “Sierra? Look, I have my eyes covered, but could we talk for just a second?” Alistair’s voice sounded amused, but I could tell there was something else going on.

 I opened the door, to see him standing there, in his formal clothes, hand over his eyes. Leliana clucked disapprovingly, so I opened the door enough for her to see his impaired vision.

 And he looked gorgeous. Better than gorgeous. He wore a dark grey doublet and trousers over a white shirt, the closest you could get to a tuxedo in Thedas. It emphasized his broad shoulders and amazing biceps, his flat stomach and narrow hips, and I struggled not to drool. He was clean-shaven, for once, and someone had trimmed his hair back to the way it was in game – little spiky bit in front and all.

 “What’s wrong?”

 “No, nothing’s wrong. I just, uh, wanted to check on you. See if you were okay.”

 “Of course I’m okay. Alistair, what’s going on?”

 “I was just, uh, wondering. If you were nervous.”

 I thought about it. I was happy, and there were little hyperactive butterflies careening around my insides, but it was joy, not fear.

 “Not particularly, love. It’s okay if you are though, I’ve heard that’s normal.”

 “I’m not really, though. I just thought…maybe I should be. Aedan told me Fergus almost wet himself before he got married. Is there something wrong with me?”

 I laughed. _Sweet, helpless Alistair._ I loved him even more at that moment than I had before. I stepped closer to him and pitched my voice low.

 “I don’t think so. I figure…nervousness is for people who might change their minds, or who aren’t sure.” I went up on tiptoes and ghosted the lightest of kisses across his lips. “I would never change my mind, and I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. Why would I be nervous?”

 The hand not currently covering his eyes reached out, unerringly, and found my cheek. He leaned down and kissed me again, slightly more firmly.

 “Maker, I love you.”

 I smiled. “I love you too.”

 Leliana hissed from behind me. “That’s all very sweet, but Alistair, get out of here! Maker, you men are like herding cats.”

 I snickered at Leli stealing one of my lines, and Alistair let out an amused snort of his own. I snuck in one more kiss.

 “I’ll see you up there.” Leliana grabbed me and dragged me back into the closet. I heard Alistair’s steps recede, and sighed longingly.

 Leliana groaned. “Sweet Andraste, even I’m going to be sick, you know. You two are ridiculous.” Her smile was tolerant and amused, and I blushed and grinned.

 “Sorry Leli.”

 I heard the voice of one of the servants whispering Leliana’s name, and she ducked around me in her own beautiful dress, with a last whispered warning of what to do. I nodded and practically had to shove her out. When I heard the music start, I couldn’t help it. I knew Leliana would kill me, but I just had to see. Cracking the door, I saw Alistair and Aedan walk down the length of the Chantry. There weren’t that many spectators, just a few people from Redcliffe Village, as well as Teagan, Theron, and the rest of our companions. I even noted Morrigan had donned a robe that mostly covered her breasts for the occasion, and was far more touched by the thoughtful gesture than I should be.

 The men approached the altar to the strains of the first verse of “A Thousand Years” By Christina Perri – another love song my iPhone had taught Leliana while walking around Ferelden. It was yet another cliché – I wondered how many thousands of weddings on Earth had used the song – but it would be unique on Thedas, for certain, and I couldn’t disappoint Leli by stopping her.

 

                Hearts beat fast.

                Colours and promises.

                How to be brave?

                How can I love when I’m afraid to fall?

                But watching you stand alone,

                All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow.

 

                One step closer.

 

                I have died every day waiting for you.

                Darling don’t be afraid, I have loved you,

                For a thousand years.

                I’ll love you for a thousand more.

 

My eyes tracked Alistair as he confidently walked and then stood, waiting for me. He was incredible, and I couldn’t look away. I was overwhelmed by the love I felt at that moment, and I knew I was going to cry during the ceremony, not from fear or regret but pure happiness. Leliana started on the next verse of the song, and I finally flung open the door and exited my little closet. I locked eyes with Alistair, who appeared to be taking me in, open-mouthed in what I hoped was the good kind of amazement. I squared my shoulders, gripped my bouquet, grabbed onto Duncan’s proffered arm with all of my strength, and walked towards the altar.

 

                Time stands still.

                Beauty in all she is.

                I will be brave,

                I will not let anything take away

                What’s standing in front of me.

                Every breath, every hour has come to this.

 

                One step closer.

 

                I have died every day waiting for you,

                Darling don’t be afraid, I have loved you,

                For a thousand years.

                I’ll love you for a thousand more.

               

                And all along I believed I would find you.

                Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you,

                For a thousand years.

                I’ll love you for a thousand more.

 The music faded into the background as Duncan took my hand and placed it, firmly, in Alistair’s. I didn’t even notice the music, or the gleam in Aedan’s eyes as he looked at us; I had eyes only for Alistair, and when he smiled at me, the world was finally right, just as it was meant to be.

 I didn’t really hear a word of the service the Revered Mother gave, managing to follow along and repeat my lines somehow through luck alone. We had decided against writing our own vows, neither of us wanting to be embarrassed in front of everyone.

 We were just about to exchange rings, beautiful golden bands bought in Redcliffe village, of all places, when the main door to the Chantry slammed open with a bang. Startled, I looked over my shoulder to see a very red-faced, angry Arl Eamon storming down the aisle towards us.


	94. Marriage Interruptus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the unedited, explicit version of this story. If you prefer a version with no descriptive sex, please come find me on fanfiction dot net!

Chapter Ninety-Four: *Marriage Interruptus

 Alistair and I were just about to exchange rings, beautiful golden bands bought in Redcliffe village, of all places, when the main door to the Chantry slammed open with a bang. Startled, I looked over my shoulder to see a very red-faced, angry Arl Eamon storming down the aisle towards us.

 In the moment of shock, Alistair took action, using my hand to pull me behind him and straightening up, drawing up his full height. His expression remained neutral, calm, but I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. I looked to Aedan, who stepped up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Alistair. In the pews, the guests had all risen from their seats, faces turned to the furious noble.

 “That is enough!” Eamon shouted, pointing at Mother Hannah. “Stop this farce at once.”

 “Your Grace, this is most irregular-“ Mother Hannah began, looking baffled.

 Eamon cut her off, pointing at me instead. “You!” He turned to Alistair. “I might have expected something like this from her, but I thought better of you. How dare you be so selfish? I have told you that Ferelden requires-“

 “Actually, Uncle, Ferelden will be just fine, thank you. This wedding was my idea. And it’s probably the only un-selfless thing Alistair has ever done. I think we can forgive him one thing.” Theron walked forward from the crowd, chiselled features pulled down into a wide frown.

 “Cai-Theron, my boy, you don’t seem to understand…the insult! Allowing the only daughter of Highever to wed a bastard…foregoing an alliance that could ensure the safety of your crown-“

 “And that’s up to her and her family to decide, now isn’t it? As her brother is standing beside her betrothed, I’m not seeing how the family can feel insulted. As for Alistair, he is my brother and I expect you to treat him as such. He is a Prince of Ferelden and my heir, and I will not hear _that word_ applied to him from your lips again, am I clear?”

 My eyes went wide, and I looked between Alistair and Aedan; Aedan shrugged noncommittally, but from his profile, Alistair’s expression was as dumbfounded as mine must have been. _Since when is Alistair Cailan’s heir? And why isn’t Aedan surprised?_ Eamon looked, if anything, even more freaked out than Alistair and I. Which seemed ridiculous, given that I knew he’d forget Cailan in a heartbeat if he died, and put Alistair on the throne without a second’s pause. _Grasping bastard…_

 Eamon opened his mouth and stepped in it even worse. “You would come into my home, and abuse my trust, my hospitality like this-”

 “Careful, Uncle. Think hard before you continue that sentence, and perhaps remember who it is that saved your life, as well as who has the ability to take this home away from you. You may be Arl, for now, but you will remember who is King.”

 Somehow, impossibly, Eamon’s face became even more crimson, and he started looking distinctly unwell. He was sweating and breathing shallowly, his hands curled into fists and his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he considered what to say next. I worried briefly that he could be having a heart attack, but saw Wynne and Anders nearby looking unconcerned, so I relaxed.

 “Your Majesty,” he finally replied, tone cold. “I apologise for overreaching. I shall leave you to your…” he glanced dismissively at Alistair and me, “entertainment.” His response was formal enough to pass as polite, though the words were clearly meant derisively. He frowned at Theron and Aedan, shot Alistair and me one more dirty look, and then spun on his heel and marched out of the Chantry, letting the doors slam behind him.

 In his wake, everyone looked at each other uncertainly, soft whispers barely heard from the front where I was standing. Alistair reached his hand back towards me, and I grabbed it and clung for dear life. I was so angry at Eamon. _How dare he interrupt my wedding to call my husband a bastard?_ I struggled to contain my anger, to hold back a scream of rage. I swore to myself that if he ever did something to hurt Alistair like that again, I’d kill him myself. Theron appeared to be having similar thoughts.

 “You okay?” I asked Alistair, worried he’d be devastated by the vocal disapproval from his first father figure.

 “You know what?” He smiled at me and squeezed my hand. “I really am. I’m fine.”

 His expression matched his words, though how it could be true was beyond me. Not knowing what to say, I just held onto his hand, a couple of tears of total aggravation gliding down my cheek. Alistair wiped them with the thumb of his free hand, smiling encouragement at me. “It’s going to be fine. I swear it.”

 Finally Mother Hannah cleared her throat and clapped her hands, motioning for everyone to have a seat.

 “Do you still wish to proceed?” she asked Alistair and me, voice pitched low so as not to carry through the Chantry. Only Leli and Aedan would have been close enough to hear.

 We both nodded without hesitation, and so she picked up as well as she could from where we left off. We finished exchanging rings, and I stared down at my hand in awe. I’d never thought I’d see that finger with a gold ring on it. A couple of tears escaped, and Alistair smiled in understanding.

 Mother Hannah was talking again, and I struggled to keep up with her, but when she asked me a question, the answer came easily.

 “I do.” To my surprise, my voice was strong and carried throughout the small Chantry.

 When it was his turn, he winked at me, forever cheeky, and replied, “Oh, I definitely do.”

 A snicker passed through the guests, and then it was done. I heard the Revered Mother mutter something about kissing, and then his lips were finally on mine, his hands cupping my face as I just pressed my palms against the solid bulk of him. The kiss was neither short nor chaste, and my cheeks flushed as a cheerful roar went up among the witnesses when we finally, reluctantly pulled apart. Alistair wasn’t even blushing, for once, and I smiled at his unexpected confidence.

 He took my hand and we walked out of the Chantry together, me smiling like I’d never stop. Eamon was forgotten, a problem for another day; for today, I had Alistair at my side and a ring on my finger, and nothing else mattered.

 That evening we had a small feast for our friends, and there was dancing. Leliana pinned my train up for me, and I took off the veil so I could dance. Leliana sang “A Thousand Years” again for me and Alistair to slow dance to together, and then some musicians she’d recruited from the village launched into more traditional Fereldan songs. I danced with Teagan, Tomas, Theron, Jowan, Aedan, and Zevran, and once each even with Sten, Anders, Faren, Bel, and Oghren – dancing with the dwarves was rather comical, especially when Oghren started making salacious comments about how their height put their heads right at my bosom – but mostly I clung to Alistair. Despite both being terrible dancers, we fit so well together that we didn’t step on each other’s toes and it felt perfect to be in his arms like that.

 Leliana and Solona danced with anyone who asked, including a couple of local men who were having a drink at the tavern when we arrived; Solona even danced once with Anders, which was sweet and sort of painful all at the same time. Morrigan refused to dance, and Wynne begged off as being too tired after one dance with Alistair. Secretly I wondered if he’d stepped on her foot.

 Kaitlyn was there, in a pretty silk dress, which was not lost on Teagan, and the two of them spent almost as many dances as Alistair and I clinging together. I winked at both of them individually when I caught their eyes, and they both blushed, but kept on dancing.

 At one point, when I was resting, slumped on a bench beside an equally exhausted Alistair, Leliana stopped the music and got everyone’s attention.

 “I thought this would be a good time for Sierra to showcase a talent that I don’t think anyone here knows about, other than me, and I think I know the perfect way to do that.”

 I raised my eyebrow, confused. _What talent?_ She dragged me up to stand by her, and then explained.

 “Sierra has an ability to remember music that rivals my own, and I have no doubt she will be able to manage this. I also think that our darling Alistair should know that his bride can sing.”

 I blushed. _She couldn’t…she did._ The initial strains of a song I knew all too well rang out. It took a bit of adjustment – string instruments just didn’t sound like the electronic music I was familiar with, but which song she had chosen was plainly obvious – Serena Ryder’s “What I wouldn’t do”. I grabbed her hand, pulling her to me.

 “You had better stay here and sing with me,” I growled at her, and she smiled and pulled out a small drum, nodding.

 At first, I was quiet, and I’m sure few other than Alistair could hear me at all over Leliana’s superior voice. Alistair’s surprised look was followed by a pleased smile, and when Aedan and Zevran also grinned appreciatively, I gained confidence that was mirrored by my increasing volume. I couldn’t project like Leliana – I’d never had voice training, and could only boast the ability to carry a tune, not wow a crowd – but it was enough, and the song was perfect.

 

If you should fall to pieces,

You know I’ll pick them up.

There are so many reasons

I’m never gonna get enough.

 

If you should leave this country,

You know I’ll come to you,

Because you always love me.

Oh what I wouldn’t do.

Oh what I wouldn’t do.

 

I’ll carry the weight,

I’ll do anything for you.

My bones may break,

But I’ll never be untrue.

 

Oh what I wouldn’t do.

 

Your love is like an ocean,

That always takes me home.

Whispering wind is blowing,

Telling me I’m not alone.

 

Your love is like a river,

That I am floating down.

I’ve never been a swimmer,

But I know that I’ll never drown.

I know that I’ll never drown.

 

The current grows stronger,

A hundred different shades of blue.

I’ve fallen in your water,

Forget everything I knew.

 

Oh what I wouldn’t do.

 

All the things I never noticed,

Opened my ears to the chorus.

You have made me listen careful

And you gave me the line.

 

I’ll carry the weight,

I’ll do anything for you.

My bones may break,

But I’ll never be untrue.

The current grows stronger,

A hundred different shades of blue.

I’ve fallen in your water,

Oh what I wouldn’t do.

Oh what I wouldn’t do.

 I was swaying to the beat and smiling by the end, despite my early embarrassment, and Alistair’s grin made it worth it. I barely noticed the applause, or the cheering as Alistair lifted me off my feet and kissed me.

 We finally settled down to dinner; so many of us being Grey Wardens meant the food was plentiful, and we cleared the table without delay. There was a little bit of the Antivan wine Zevran knew I liked, and a small keg of ale from Maker-knew where, but no one (including Oghren, for a change) was drunk and it was a lovely meal. It was rather hard to eat without letting go of Alistair’s hand, but we managed.

 After dinner, he stood beside me, and shouted to get everyone’s attention.

 “First, we would like to thank all of you for being here to celebrate with us. This wouldn’t be happening without all of you helping, some more than others,” he smiled and nodded his head to a blushing Leliana, “and we wouldn’t want to do this without all of you here. Second, we would like to wish you all a good night.” He turned to me and smiled. “I am a lucky man. I love you, Sierra.”

 I stood up and kissed him, to the mixed sounds of cheering and gagging from the crowd.

 “I’d like to echo my husband’s sentiment about you all being here. I think every girl dreams of her wedding day, and mine was perfect, thanks to you. I’m the lucky one.” I smiled up at Alistair, unshed tears pricking in my eyes. “And I love you, Alistair. Forever.”

 His lips crushed mine, and he leaned down to scoop me up, fancy dress and all. I’d normally have squawked, but I wanted to leave as much as he did, and knew I’d be hampered by the silly train. He leaned me down to plant a kiss on each friend’s cheek, and endured much back-slapping, and then we were out of there. We both stayed silent until we reached the rooms that had been prepared for us upstairs in the tavern.

 Leliana had struck again; the bed was again covered in rose petals – _where had she found those, in the middle of a Blight?_ – and there were candles lit all around the room, giving off a lovely glow. A fire burned in the hearth, there was a covered tray that I guessed would be food, and a copper tub had been dragged in, with the enchanted rune I had been given in Orzammar sitting nearby, ready to provide hot water on demand.

 Alistair sat down on a chair by the fire, settling me in his lap, and I relaxed into his embrace. I sighed; it was nice to relax, not to be watched, even if it had been for a good reason. We sat silently, companionably, just enjoying the fire and the closeness.

After a while I squirmed; the dress Leliana had produced as if by magic that morning was beautiful, but fashion required some sort of sacrifice, and that was comfort. The stitching in the bodice was tight, not even allowing for a breast band underneath, and my skin ached from its tight confinement. The stays were bone of some sort, and dug in to my ribs uncomfortably; the fabric was silk, but in places there was a lot of lace that was abominably itchy.

 Seeming to catch on to my discomfort, Alistair began silently unlacing the back of the dress. I grinned, knowing very few Fereldan noblewomen would allow their husbands to perform such a task, instead having a lady’s maid to do it. I wondered briefly if he minded, but reasoned that if he did, he’d better get over it. I was no noblewoman, and with the exception of my wedding dress, would not normally need help to get undressed; I wasn’t about to keep a lady’s maid for such rare occasions. My husband would just have to learn to cope.

  _Husband. That’s a weird thought._ I glanced at my left hand, where my simple gold band lay next to the beautiful diamond engagement ring Alistair had given me. _I never thought I’d live to see the day._ I smiled wistfully, wondering what I would have thought if a year ago, someone had told me I’d be married, and to a fairy-tale character at that. I’d have laughed, for sure.

 By the time the thoughts had tumbled through my brain, Alistair had untied the final lacing, and suddenly the pressure on my ribcage and my breasts released. The dress fell forward slightly, baring the curve of my breasts to the room. He took the opportunity to stroke the skin, ever-so-softly, and I shivered at the touch. Suddenly his arms were around me, his breath warm in my ear.

 “Cold, my Lady? I could get you a blanket.”

 “No thank you, my Prince.” I grinned as he huffed and rolled his eyes. By mutual, unspoken consent, we were leaving the topic of his royalty until morning. I turned to face him. “Besides, I can think of better things than a blanket to help me warm up.”

 I waggled my eyebrows and he grinned before leaning in to capture my lips in a scorching kiss. His hands stroked my neck and shoulder, slowly releasing my upper half from the confines of my dress. When I was finally bare from the waist up, he kissed his way down to my chest, and I moaned as he devoured a nipple, sensitive from a day spent trussed in yards of irritating fabric. He had just a hint of stubble on his chin, and it scraped across my skin as he switched sides, subjecting my other breast to the same treatment.

 Impatient, now, I struggled out of his lap, and he had to lift me up so I could stand. He scrambled to his feet, just in time to watch the dress finally fall past my waist, and I wiggled until it pooled at my feet. My underwear, some special useless lacy things Leliana had presented, soon followed. I kicked off the heels, stepped out of the puddle of cloth, and stood before him naked. I was rewarded by a soft groan as his gaze travelled my body; the look he gave me turned me on more than it should, and I popped one hip out to the side as I sauntered past him to the bed, making sure he got a good look at everything.

 “You’re overdressed, husband.” I crawled up on the bed and reclined against the pillows, smiling seductively. _He likes how I look? Might as well give him a show._ “You’d better hurry, or I will start without you.”

 Stirring from his abject staring, he blushed and tried to rush and undress, but I had already decided to make it more difficult for him. Making sure he was watching, I brought one hand up to my face and slowly, painstaking swirled my tongue around the tip of one finger. Locking my smile in place, hoping like hell I didn’t blush, I traced the other fingers down my neck, over my chest, and then with the damp finger, began teasing my own erect nipple, while the other hand held my breast out slightly, as though offering it to him. He groaned and stopped undressing, face slack as he watched my hands. He’d managed to remove the doublet and vest overtop of his formal shirt, but little else, and after a few moments of allowing him to stare, I cleared my throat. Startled, he looked up.

 “Better, but not quite there yet, my love.”

 He flushed and started unbuttoning his shirt, so I went back to tormenting him. I switched breasts, re-wetting my finger and rolling my nipple gently. Seeing his eyes widen with lust as he watched me was intoxicating, and I felt moisture between my thighs. With one hand still on my erect nipple, I allowed the other to explore lower, stroking across my belly to the hairless mound at the apex of my thighs. He seemed dazed, unable to tear his eyes away as my fingers gently massaged my own pubic area. I cleared my throat again, and he jumped and tore the shirt open, buttons popping off and spraying across the room.

 I giggled and he blushed before dropping the ruined shirt to the floor. His physique never failed to affect me, and I watched his own skin appear with anticipation. Once the shirt was gone, I could see the prominent bulge in the front of his trousers and I licked my lips. Taking my cue to advance my agenda of driving him mad, I spread my legs, embarrassed but too excited to stop now. I could smell my own arousal, and by his flaring nostrils, so could he. I traced a finger over my lower lips, finding myself soaked; I brought my finger up to my lips and licked at the moisture there. His strangled gasp made me grin wickedly, and I dropped my hand back down, now finally allowing my finger to penetrate into my damp folds. I explored slowly, at first, teasing myself, until I couldn’t take it anymore and finally circled around my hard clit gently. I shuddered at the sensation and did it again.

 He was panting now, desperately trying to free himself from his trousers, the laces of which of course had become knotted. His frustration and urgency sent a bolt of pleasure through me, and I groaned and dropped my head back onto the pillows as I pleasured myself slowly. I needed more, and reluctantly released my breast to allow my other hand to join the first. Continuing to torment my clit, I slid two fingers through the slippery folds, picking up some moisture before delving them deep inside my sheath. The pressure was divine, making me writhe, but yet left me wanting – it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t him. My lover, my husband…thinking that word made me cry out softly as I started thrusting my fingers in and out of my channel.

 I lifted my head just soon enough to finally see his pants drop to his ankles, and watch him trip in his hurry to shed the offending article of clothing. I watched through a haze as he eventually remembered to kick off his shoes and managed to free himself. His smalls took no time, and suddenly my naked, very aroused husband was crawling onto the bed between my knees. I watched as his face descended and then felt his tongue as it slipped in around my probing fingers, and I relented and withdrew my hands as he took over.

 His tongue grazed the edge of my clit a few times before he switched to sucking in one of my inner lips and harassing it with his tongue instead. I gasped and arched my back as I felt two of his much bigger, longer fingers replace mine and curl forward, rubbing all the right places rhythmically with every thrust. I started to shake with desire, and screamed his name as he finally clamped his mouth over my clit and began sucking and flicking it. His other hand, out of nowhere, pinched my nipple, and I came. I flooded his mouth and his hand, thrashing a little but unable to move too far because of the fingers impaling me. He kept at my clit, prolonging my orgasm until I couldn’t take it anymore and collapsed back, panting.

 He eased his fingers out of me and crawled up, kissing my stomach and then my breast before he reached my head and leaned in to kiss me. I tried to follow him as he pulled away, and I pouted.

 “You have been a very bad girl, and now I think it’s time for payback.”

 My eyes widened as he lifted my legs to his shoulders; we’d never tried that position before! I felt the heat of his erection before I felt the pressure, and I wiggled my hips invitingly. He chuckled and shook his head, then proceeded to tease me with just the tip, running it along my length and pressing slightly against my too-sensitive clit. Normally he stayed away from there for a few minutes, at least, after an orgasm, to allow things to recover, but as he rubbed again and again against the little nub, it seemed this time would be different.

 I was too aroused for it to truly be painful, but it was definitely uncomfortable and I hissed. He kept at it, then leaned down to suck one of my inflamed nipples into his mouth, something else we usually avoided right after orgasm. To my surprise, despite my discomfort, I could feel the pressure rising in my pelvis which indicated another orgasm was building. He kept at it, ignoring my whining as he teased my opening and harassed clit and nipples both, and I spastically grabbed at the sheets under me. The pressure built, and suddenly the discomfort fled in favour of white-hot pleasure as I was rocked by another climax.

 I cried out again, fisting my hands in the sheets as it washed over me, and the next thing I knew Alistair was buried in me to the hilt, pounding into me mercilessly, not letting me relax after my peak. The angle allowed him to go deeper than he had ever before, and I’d never felt so completely filled, so totally owned by another. His hands were bruising my hips as he pulled me to meet his thrusts, and I could tell by his hoarse grunt that he was close. When he shouted and arched his back, feeling him spill inside me triggered another small orgasm that left me breathless. My legs slipped off his shoulders to fall on either side of his hips, my arms leaden at my sides, and I felt weak. I could barely move.

 Suddenly I felt something on my abused clit, and I opened my eyes to see he was still on top of me but had snaked a finger down between us to find my poor nub. I groaned and shifted my hips, only to realise that he was still hard, still buried inside my sheath, and pinning me in place. His finger was insistent and aggressive, stroking and teasing my pearl.

 “No, not again. I can’t.” It was barely a whisper; finding my voice required too much effort.

 His voice was husky with arousal. “Yes, again. You can. You will.”

 He kept up, teasing my traitorous body until my clit hardened again. He kept whispering to me, calling me his wife, moaning my name, telling me he loved me, asking me to come for him, and reluctantly, agonisingly, I complied. I began to writhe, clenching his cock tightly inside me, as the pressure built one more time, and he kept encouraging me. He started thrusting into me again, slowly, deeply, and it added to the stress on my over-wrought clit. I began to sob, in pain, in bliss – _I can’t even tell which anymore_ – and he kissed my tears away, and I came again. I could feel my aching pelvic muscles clamp down on his length, felt the heat that indicated he’d climaxed as well, felt his breath pant on my skin as he groaned, and I laid, limp like an overcooked noodle.

 He finally lifted off of me, shifting to the side to wrap himself around me, pulling up the blankets to cover us. I didn’t even move other than to turn my head and press my face into his shoulder. I felt him kiss my forehead, and his fingers intertwined with mine.

 “Love? Are you…”

 “If you ask me if I’m okay, I will beat you. Tomorrow, anyway – I’m too tired right now.”

 “I love you, my wife.”

 “And I you, husband. Now, if you don’t mind, could we go to sleep?”

 He chuckled, and that warm rumble was the last sound I heard before slipping into unconsciousness.


	95. Royal Bastard

Chapter Ninety-Five: Royal Bastard

 

It was a night to remember; we made love and slept, snuggled and laughed – and made love some more. We fed each other breakfast in bed, thoughtfully ordered by Leliana, and then slept again, waking well into the afternoon.

 Alistair gave me a wedding gift in bed; it was a small leather tube like the one he carried his drawings in. Excited, like a kid on Christmas, I opened it at Alistair’s nod. Two pieces of vellum – high quality parchment – slid out when I upended the tube.

 The first was a picture of me and Alistair. The details of our clothes were hazy, but it was clearly meant to be our wedding. Our hands were clasped, our rings visible; our faces were close together, foreheads almost touching. Alistair’s expression was heartrendingly tender, his lips pulled back in a beatific smile. My answering smile was impish but sweet, and my eyes practically sparkled.

 “Now I can draw your dress,” he explained. “I know on Earth you’d have taken pictures to remember; this is the closest I could get.”

 I leaned in and kissed him, sweetly and softly, relishing the warmth in my belly from the thoughtful gesture.

 The second piece of vellum took my breath away. There were seven, exquisitely detailed figures on the small piece of parchment: myself, Aedan, and what must have been our parents, as well as Fergus, Oriana, and Oren. Our parents were in the back, arms around those of us in front. I sat in the middle, with Aedan on one side and Fergus and Oriana on the other; Oren sat in front of us, leaning against my knees. Both of my brothers, as well as my parents, had either a hand on my shoulder or an arm around me, and we all looked content and happy.

 Tears slipped down my face, unbidden, and I pushed the vellum away so as not to get it wet. I pressed my face into Alistair’s shoulder and bawled as he carefully put the two pictures back into their tube.

 “You drew me a family.” I sobbed and clung to him, and he wrapped his arms around me tightly.

 “Aedan helped. Described what they looked like. He said it was pretty close. I thought we could have frames made and you could hang them wherever we end up.”

 “Thank you.” I pulled him down and pressed my lips against his hard, urgency outweighing subtlety. “Thank you.”

 I kissed him again, leaning against him until he got the picture and flopped back onto the mattress; I fell with him, then climbed to my knees between his legs and proceeded to show him, in detail, with my fingers and lips and tongue how much I loved my wedding present.

 Finally picking ourselves up, after a playful bath, we changed, gathered our wedding attire, and reluctantly left our little sanctuary to face the outside world.

 Married now, we decided we no longer needed the fiction of separate rooms, and Alistair asked a servant to help move his things into my slightly larger guest room. Then, on mutual unspoken consent, we went looking for Theron and Aedan. We found both men in a discussion with Eamon in the library; Eamon huffed when we entered, and excused himself, leaving us alone.

 I sighed. “He’s never getting over this, is he?”

 Alistair wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “I don’t care. He can go to the Void, for all his opinion matters to me.”

 I looked up at him in surprise, and he smiled ruefully at me. “I’ve been thinking about what you – what everyone – has been saying. About how he treated me, growing up, and about how he’s acted since this all started. He’s important to our cause, so I can be polite, but I’m not going to allow him to treat me like the unwanted bastard anymore, never mind letting him treat you poorly.”

 He kissed my forehead, and I turned into his embrace, squeezing him close. “I’m sorry.”

 “I’m not. It’s his loss. I have a family, now, and he can’t hurt me anymore.”

 Theron stood and clapped his hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Not that you need it, but I will help in any way I can. And I truly think Eamon will get over it, out of pragmatism if nothing else – he needs me, and knows you have my protection if necessary.”

 “Speaking of which,” Alistair said with a weird almost-smile, “mind telling me what that’s all about, _brother_?”

 Theron flushed, and gestured to the chairs, seating himself in a comfortable armchair. I snuggled up with Alistair on a small couch, Aedan sitting in a chair to my left.

 “I suppose that wasn’t the best way to inform you-“

 “How about you start at the beginning?” I offered.

 Theron nodded. “My reign has been at risk since my coronation because of the lack of an heir. I refused to admit it was a problem for a long time – denial, I suppose, of what I didn’t want to hear – and some of those who are less happy with how much influence the MacTir’s have at court have used that as an excuse to plot against me. Loghain was good at rooting out those problems, but it didn’t change everyone’s opinions.

 “I don’t know what I’m going to do about the situation. Anora…well, it’s complicated. But while I figure it out, having an heir will stabilise the succession, appease the bannorn to some extent. You’re a Theirin, Alistair, as much as it may pain you. Had I died at Ostagar, it would have been your duty to assume the throne. That won’t be the case now, Maker willing, but I still have no heir. So my first act, when I take my throne back, will be to formally recognise you as a Theirin and my heir, until such a time as I have children of my own.”

 He looked nervous; Alistair looked…shell-shocked. _Wait, is that a thing, in Thedas?_ After what had been said the night before, I assumed this would be the case; clearly Alistair had been better at blocking it out.

 “I have a question, if I may.” Theron nodded, but I turned to Aedan instead. “Why aren’t you surprised, dear brother?”

 He looked briefly startled, before smiling at me. “I didn’t know anything, Sierra, I assure you. I merely assumed that if Theron here was smart, he would do exactly this. Call it political savvy, I suppose.”

 I narrowed my eyes at him, but reluctantly had to believe him. _It really isn’t so surprising, I suppose…_ I just hadn’t considered it.

 Alistair finally stirred. “But, but…I don’t want to be King!”

 Theron laughed, and Aedan and I grinned. “I suppose we had better make sure I stay alive, then, right, brother?”

 “But I’m a Grey Warden. I can’t even hold a title.”

 “As we’ve heard, it seems Weisshaupt is ready to ignore that rule when required. Having a Grey Warden as a member of the royal family can only benefit them; I’m sure they can be convinced of that. And it isn’t like you’d have land titles or an Arling to run.”

 Alistair didn’t look all that reassured, and I giggled. He squeezed me against his side, fingers digging into my ribs, tickling me. “You laugh, Sierra, but just wait until everyone starts calling you Princess.”

 The appalled look on my face made all three men crack up in hysterical laughter.

 I stuck my tongue out at Alistair, then turned to Aedan. “What, exactly, does it take to have a marriage annulled in Ferelden?”

 Aedan just laughed harder, and Alistair pulled me into his lap for a sweet kiss.

 “Considering half the village of Redcliffe must be aware that the marriage was consummated last night, good luck with that, your Highness!” Theron wore a smug grin; Alistair and I both blushed crimson, and I hid my face in his shoulder while he groaned.

 “I hate you,” I pouted at Theron.

 He chuckled. “You have to love me. I’m family!”

 We laughed and chatted a while longer; at some point Zev joined us and nonchalantly stole my spot on the couch, as I was still in Alistair’s lap. The rest of our companions trickled in slowly; I could feel the taint of the various Grey Wardens as they approached, and noticed something odd as I did.

 There were extras, taint signatures I didn’t recognise. One was rapidly approaching with Duncan.

 “Riordan!” I jumped up off Alistair’s lap, going over to peer out into the hallway. Sure enough, there he was in the flesh.

 He wore some armour that was all black, sleek and deadly, sort of like the rest of him, really. He was of an age with Duncan, but looked a lot less haggard than he had in game. He was a little bulkier, and a lot cleaner. His hair was long and silky, tied out of his face; his facial hair was more Aragorn than the rather bushy mess I recalled from the game.

 Belatedly, it occurred to me that the others were going to wonder how I’d known Riordan was coming. With no one being able to sense my taint, we had kept my Warden-ish status a secret, and while there’d been plenty of clues along the way, I’d just totally blown it.

 I ducked back into the library, hoping no one noticed; I moved to stand beside Alistair and waited to be introduced. The two senior Grey Wardens came into the room one after the other. Duncan was smiling, while Riordan looked very serious. The lines on his face indicated he was always that serious, which jived with what I remembered from the game.

 “This is Warden Riordan. Please introduce yourselves.”

 “Aedan Cousland.” Riordan and Aedan nodded at each other.

 Zevran, Sten, Oghren, Bel, Faren, Solona, Jowan, Anders, Leliana, Wynne, and Gorim all said their names. Then he turned to Alistair. “I remember you, Alistair. It is good to see you again.”

 Alistair nodded, then turned slightly towards me. “And this is Sierra Theirin. My wife.”

 I thought he puffed his chest out just a little when he said the word ‘wife’; it was ridiculously cute and I stifled a giggle.

 Riordan raised one eyebrow and then eyed me critically. “Wife?” He glanced at Duncan, who seemed unconcerned, and changed the subject. “I’ve heard much about you, Sierra. I would like the chance to talk with you more at a later time.”

 Aedan and Alistair both stiffened slightly, and I squeezed Alistair’s hand and put my other hand on Aedan’s shoulder. “Sounds good.” I trusted Riordan, though I’d be taking at least Duncan, if not Aedan and Alistair with me when we spoke.

 Duncan cleared his throat. “Riordan has brought us two other Wardens as well; we will meet them later. Tomorrow the Dalish scouts, the former werewolves, and some of Redcliffe’s soldiers will be dispatched on patrol to keep an eye on the movement of the horde; Riordan and the other two will accompany them.”

 “Only two?” Aedan asked, clearly sounding aggravated. His expression was a combination of angry and depressed; Zevran put his hand on Aedan’s other shoulder and squeezed.

 I wasn’t surprised, unfortunately.

 Duncan shot Aedan a look, and he subsided, still a bit petulant. Duncan continued. “Arl Eamon tells me we will depart for Denerim two days from now. You all have some time to rest; I suggest you make use of it.” He turned to Aedan, Alistair, and me. “You three, with us please?”

 I sighed and followed Duncan; he led us out of the Castle and a ways down the road, out of sight of anyone watching. He picked a large tree and leaned against it casually. “I thought we could talk out here, where we won’t be overheard.” He gave Aedan a look; Aedan flushed slightly.

 Sighing, I went to lean against a tree of my own, but Alistair stood behind me so I could lean back against him instead, his body heat keeping me from shivering. It was sort of weird being outside without armour on, but nice too. Aedan stood beside me, and Riordan watched attentively.

 “Sierra?” Duncan nodded to me, bobbing his head at Riordan, and I sighed again.

 “I don’t know much about Riordan, Duncan. Um…” I turned to the Warden in question. “You are from Highever, or thereabouts. Your Joining was at the same time as Duncan’s, but you’ve served in Orlais since. When Loghain closed the borders to the Orlesian forces, you were chosen to sneak across the border and see what you could find out. You went to Ostagar, or at least you were planning to – I don’t know if Duncan interrupted you before you got there. And then you were going to go to Denerim and see what was happening there. In the game, you were tricked by Howe, imprisoned, and tortured, but obviously that hasn’t happened. I truly know nothing else about you.” I looked back at Duncan. “Sorry. The game didn’t go into details.”

 Aedan interrupted, “Look, we can convince you about Sierra later. Why did you bring only two Wardens?”

 I scowled; I knew exactly why. Riordan gestured at me, indicating he wanted to hear what I was thinking.

 “They won’t come without the Chevaliers. The other Grey Wardens have decided that, if Ferelden isn’t going to take all of their help, it won’t get any. They are making a point for the rest of Thedas – play nice with the Wardens, or else. They’ll gather in force at the borders and wait for Ferelden to fall. I’m actually surprised you brought any at all.”

 Riordan grimaced. “You are correct. Commander Clarel refused my request for aid. The two I brought…are technically deserters, now, as am I. They were both Fereldan before joining and being transferred to Jader. None of us was willing to sit and watch while Ferelden either fell or defeated the Blight on its own.”

 Aedan swore, and Alistair paled; I could practically see the wheels turning. I felt sorry for him; he’d idolized the Grey Warden order, made it out to be something noble, in his head, and now was getting brutal confirmation of what I’d said – they were as political as any other group in Thedas, and could be far more ruthless.

 Duncan didn’t look surprised, or even that disappointed; he just looked tired. “Well, we know from Sierra’s game that the Blight can be defeated with just three Wardens. We now have eleven. It will have to be enough.” He turned to Riordan. “And for the record, I hereby officially conscript the three of you into the Grey Wardens of Ferelden.”

 We slowly made our way back to the castle. I was eager to meet the other Wardens, and Duncan had indicated we would be putting the three of them through the new Joining that evening. We arrived back to see a crowd in the training yard; the two newest additions to our crazy band of misfits were getting ready to spar, with our other companions and a large group of Redcliffe soldiers watching while Oghren took bets.

 I took a moment to inspect the two men. The first was an older man, I guessed as much as ten years older than Duncan. He had a shock of short grey hair, sticking up in all directions, and grey stubble to match. He was short and stocky, roughly my height but probably double my weight, and he carried a two-handed maul that might even have been heavier than Sten’s Asala. The other was younger, maybe in his early thirties, his hair a brilliant ginger, but well-coifed. He was tall, clean-shaven, and handsome. He carried a dagger and a longsword, and I noticed a bow sitting nearby.

 Both men were stretching and warming up; watching them, it was clear they were just pandering to the crowd, not really needing a warm-up. Oghren was almost overwhelmed with bets, and I wandered over to see what odds he was offering. It seemed pretty even, no one knowing whether the reach and heft of the maul could make up for the assumed speed of the younger rogue.

 Riordan rolled his eyes and told the two that if they were going to do it, they’d best get on with it; the two men gripped their weapons and squared off.

 Both men had what appeared to be impeccable skill. The two-hander swung and drove the younger man back, while the dual-wielder leaped around, never staying where the older man expected him to be. Neither was getting in any hits, however. I thought it would have been fun to compare Zevran to the ginger-haired man in technique – they seemed similar. Indeed when I found the assassin, he was watching critically, arms crossed over his chest. I thought he looked a bit pouty, actually, and I wondered if he was worried he couldn’t compare.

 Then I spotted Aedan, and the real reason for Zev’s sulk became apparent. Aedan was watching the sparring with open appreciation written on his face; his gaze never left the younger of the opponents, and his mouth hung slightly agape.

 I sighed, squeezed Zev’s shoulder sympathetically, and then tapped Aedan lightly on the shoulder. He spared me a quick glance and a smile, then went back to watching.

 “You might want to close your mouth, brother, before you get drool on your new shirt.”

 “Wha…? Huh? I’m not drooling.” But he snapped his mouth shut, and shot a guilty look in Zevran’s direction. Spotting Zevran’s unusually serious face, he sighed and backed up to stand with the former Crow. Zevran ignored him, watching the sparring, making Aedan twitch. I suppressed a grin; they were so committed to each other, yet so totally terrified of admitting it.

 Finally Aedan slipped behind the elf, putting his hands on Zev’s shoulders and pulling back so the Antivan leaned against Aedan’s chest. Zevran finally relaxed, and I saw Aedan whisper something in his ear. Zevran nodded and smirked, leaning back further, and I smiled softly. _Adorable, though they wouldn’t thank me for saying so…_

 I turned my attention back to the fight to see the older Warden hit the younger with the haft of his maul, knocking him onto his arse, and swinging the head down to bump lightly against his chest plate. The younger man yielded, an embarrassed look on his face, and I snickered; whatever impression the handsome young man had hoped to make in Redcliffe hadn’t worked out like he’d wished.

 After a lot of cheering, cursing, and settling of debts, the crowd finally cleared, leaving the new additions with most of our group. We were introduced, one-by-one, to Conrad, the younger of the two Wardens, and Dougal, the older. The two men were joking with each other good-naturedly, and I gathered their sparring sessions were something of a common occurrence. I got a curious raised eyebrow from each when Alistair claimed me as his wife; nothing else was said, but I gathered that there would be an interesting discussion later between Duncan, Riordan, and the other two Wardens when I wasn’t around. I almost wanted to be a fly on the wall for that.

 Conrad immediately began flirting with Leliana and Solona; he was so obvious about it, though, that both women exchanged incredulous glances and walked away. Even Anders wasn’t jealous. Aedan was very restrained with the handsome Warden, to my amusement, and kept a hand or arm possessively touching Zevran the entire time. The assassin looked positively smug, though I knew he wouldn’t appreciate that being pointed out either. _There’s a lot no one points out for those two…_

 As not an ‘official’ Grey Warden, I barely saw my husband or any of the senior Wardens for the rest of the afternoon. They had various meetings with Theron, the Arl, and Duncan, which I knew I’d hear about later, and instead I spent the afternoon being teased mercilessly by the girls about my Prince and our night at the tavern.

 I saw Isolde a couple of times, as we sat in the main hall; if looks could kill, we’d both be dead. I sighed; it seemed that was one relationship I would forever have trouble with. I wasn’t particularly disappointed – the woman made me crazy – but having Eamon as an adversary wasn’t the way I’d have wanted to start out.

 Supper was a raucous affair, with eleven Wardens, all of our other companions, as well as the castle inhabitants. The amount of food consumed was enormous, and that was with me holding back to avoid suspicion from Conrad, Dougal, and Riordan. Alistair promised to steal us some food from the kitchens after supper, so I ate lightly.

 I was allowed to stay for the modified Joining; Duncan explained that I had made a deal with Avernus to study my blood in return for the improved formula. I doubted it would help Dougal much, but it would potentially add a handful of years to Conrad’s life expectancy, which was good. No one looked surprised at Duncan’s explanation, so I assumed part of the afternoon meetings had been convincing the three Orlesian Grey Wardens of my origin.

 All three men did the thing with the screaming and their eyes rolling back in their heads; Jowan had been taught how to make the potion by Morrigan, so no non-Wardens were present except me. All three recovered well, looking slightly shaken but otherwise fine.

 Alistair and I spent the rest of the night making love, slowly and sweetly, falling asleep tangled together and content. Every time I looked at him – my husband, my sweet, silly Prince – I felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest. I briefly wished there was someone I could share a ‘The Grinch Who Stole Christmas’ reference with – I was sure my heart had grown three sizes since the wedding – but being with my Alistair was more important, and I didn’t regret anything.

 The three recent arrivals, Riordan, Dougal, and Conrad, left the next morning to patrol, travelling into the Wilds to try to determine the movements of the Horde. The rest of us bought supplies and prepared to leave for Denerim the next day.

I was interrupted in our packing by a nervous servant approaching me, Blake at his side.

 “I’m sorry, my Lady, I wouldn’t bother you, but the young one here insisted that…” He was looking at the floor, wringing his hands nervously, quite clearly expecting abuse of some sort. _I hate Isolde more every day._

 I took pity on him, reaching out to still his hands. “Relax, friend. Call me Sierra. There’s nothing to be afraid of. What’s going on?”

 “Th-Thank you, my Lady. There is, well, there’s an elf here to see you. I’d have sent him away, filthy wretch that he is, but Blake insisted you would want to know.”

 “I definitely do! He asked for me? Personally?”

 “He asked for the Lady of the Grey Wardens, my Lady. I don’t know anyone else who fits that description.”

 “That’s the weirdest title I’ve ever heard. Where is this elf?”

 “In the training yard,” Blake answered, cutting the servant off with a cheeky grin. “He wants to be a Grey Warden.”

 I blinked, confused. Who would want to be a Warden, and more than that, who would know me, and call me the Grey Wardens’ Lady? I dismissed the servant, ruffled Blake’s hair – which, I noted, had been cut and combed nicely – and turned to my brother and my husband.

 “Love? Aedan? Will you come with me for a minute?”

 They both followed me out, and I explained about the odd description given to me by the servant and Blake’s assurance someone wanted to join the Wardens. They seemed as confused as I, so the three of us trooped curiously into the training yard.

 Wayne was drilling the knights and recruits, and the training yard was a disorganised array of sweaty male humanity. With one exception: a small pocket of space against the castle wall where nothing moved, and one elf stood quietly.

 He was lean, like most elves, but taller than average; he had auburn hair so dark that the red only showed when the sunlight glinted off of it. He was dressed in ragged armour, mismatched pieces with spots of rust. He carried a bow that looked to be handmade, with a small quiver of arrows at his waist. I saw a glint from a wicked, long, curved blade hanging down by one leg.

 His hair was wild, cut too short to put in a ponytail, but too long to be neat; it stood up from his head in all directions, with sections that hung down in his face. His ears were long and elegant, his face – like all elves – hairless; his expression was grim. I couldn’t see his eyes; he was focused on the ground at his feet, ignoring the chaos around him.

 He reminded me of a trapped wild animal – caged, cornered, pacified for now, but dangerous. There was a tangible violence lurking just underneath his skin.

 Alistair reached out to stop me from approaching, but I shrugged him off. I couldn’t have said from where or how, but I knew him. And he had asked for me, so I would hear him out.

 He glanced up as I stopped in front of him, and I almost gasped. He had heterochromia, something I had known of only from the most classic of fantasy or horror films back on Earth. One eye was a piercing, startling pale blue, the other a warm, almost amber brown. I felt a pull to choose one eye, to lock gazes with just one, but I avoided it, settling on looking straight at his nose instead.

 He smirked, and I wondered if he got that reaction a lot.

 Alistair slid up behind me, wrapping a protective arm around my waist, and I leaned back against his chest comfortably.

 “I know you. Somehow. I’m Sierra; may I have your name?”

 He looked away, seeming uncomfortable with being recognised. “You never knew my name, but when we met it would have been Stormwalker.”

 I pondered the unusual name for a second. I’d definitely never heard it before. And then something clicked – the name, the eyes, the barely restrained violence…

 “You were one of Witherfang’s. A werewolf.”


	96. Learning

Chapter Ninety-Six: Learning

 

“You were one of Witherfang’s. A werewolf.”

 I could feel Alistair shift at my back, and Aedan took a protective half-step forward.

 I suddenly felt like I’d been transported into a teen romance novel instead of a fantasy RPG.

 A bitter smile passed across his lips, and he visibly relaxed his tense shoulders, keeping his hands up and away from his weapons.

 “Yes, I was. I was there, when…the Lady died.”

 “I am-“

 He cut me off. “Don’t say you’re sorry.” His tone was clipped, his voice louder than I expected, and at my flinch, he struggled to control himself again. When he spoke next, it was quiet, subdued. “You did as she asked. I do not blame you for it, though for some of us, it was not the freedom we had expected.”

 “Please, Stormwalker-“

 “Wulf.”

 “Wulf?” I blinked, confused.

 “I needed a first name. One that _people_ could use. I chose Wulf. Short for Mornwulf Stormwalker. I liked the irony.”

 “…okay. Wulf, please, would you come inside with us? We should talk, and I think Duncan should be there, and it will all be a lot easier if we can sit down, and maybe have something to eat?” I was babbling, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

 His gaze strayed to the open portcullis of the castle’s gate, and for a moment I thought he’d run. Not that we’d have chased him, or stopped him, but the longing to get away was clear on his face. His expression was vulnerable, in that moment, and I wondered exactly how young Wulf was.

 After a moment, though, he clenched his jaw and turned his fascinating, but slightly creepy eyes back to me. He nodded, once, reluctantly, and pushed off the wall to follow me inside.

 Aedan ran ahead to find Duncan, and I flagged down a servant in the hallway, requesting that a light meal for ‘five Grey Wardens’ be brought into the library. I knew the four of us could always eat, and looking at Wulf, he hadn’t been eating that well in a while. Alistair, still clearly nervous, stayed close to me as we walked, and I took comfort from his warm presence against my side. The library was empty when we arrived, and I gestured to a chair for Wulf, while Alistair and I took the sofa.

 We sat in silence, Wulf examining the bookshelves around him with some interest. I took the opportunity to inspect him in more detail. He was dirty, obviously not having had a bath for some time. Not that it was a surprise – armed elves wandering around Ferelden were unlikely to get a hospitable reception anywhere that a bath tub was to be found. His armour was even worse than I’d originally thought, half of it held together with nothing more than leather straps.

 He shifted uncomfortably, and I realised he’d caught me staring. I flushed and looked away, drawing a confused, concerned glance from Alistair. I was saved from having to explain by the arrival of Aedan and Duncan, with food being brought in on their heels.

 I introduced Wulf to Duncan, and then we settled in to eat in silence for a few minutes. I’d been right in my assumption; Wulf was starving, polishing off a Warden meal and then some. Finally finished stuffing ourselves, Duncan turned his gaze on Wulf.

 “I’m interested to hear how you ended up as a werewolf, if you’ll indulge us, Wulf.”

 He grimaced, but nodded. “My parents were Dalish, I think. Or perhaps servants travelling with a caravan; I have no way of knowing. I don’t remember my life from before. From what I was able to piece together later, we were attacked by werewolves in the Brecilian Forest. I was bitten, and somehow got left behind when the others fled – or maybe they were killed. I can only assume they thought I was dead.”

 “How old were you?” I was horrified.

 “I don’t know. Perhaps six? I turned, and for several years – I don’t know how long, really – I ran with a pack of young werewolves, mindless, acting on instincts. And then the Lady found me.”

 He sighed. “Race didn’t matter when we were all werewolves, but being the only former elf, I was small. The others protected me, kept me safe until I finished growing. I found a family with the Lady and Swiftrunner.”

 “And then we came.” I felt guilty, despite knowing we’d made the best choice we could at the time.

 “Yes. And you released us from our ‘curse’. Only, while the others had somewhere to go – back to families, or to a new human settlement they are building bordering the Brecilian – I was an elf. There was no place for me.

 “I travelled for a while; I went to the Dalish, who tried to accept me, but I didn’t fit in. I didn’t know their history, didn’t have Vallaslin…I was an outsider. Keeper Lanaya offered to try to find my clan after the Blight ended, but we can’t even be sure my parents were Dalish. And even then, I’d still be different. I learned to hunt, to fight without claws and teeth, but finally I left them. I tried to go to the village of former werewolves, only to discover that race matters very much to those without fur. I didn’t fit in, again.”

 “And now you are here,” Aedan finished. “Looking to join the Grey Wardens, Blake said?”

 “The Dalish told stories of the Grey Wardens. Brave, honourable, good fighters. That they have a purpose, and take anyone, whether human or elven.”

 The four of us exchanged glances. I didn’t know what Duncan was thinking, but the other three of us were pained. _The poor kid deserves better than an early death, after all he’s been through. Even if it’s not as early as it once was._

 “I-“ Alistair, Aedan and I all spoke at once, and I nodded at Aedan that he should continue. “Wulf, being a Warden…it’s dangerous work. Fighting darkspawn for the rest of your life isn’t exactly a picnic. And there’s no taking it back – you’re stuck being a Warden forever.” He looked apologetically at Duncan, then cleared his throat and continued despite the glare he received in return. “If I had a choice, if I had known…well, I’m not sure this is what I’d do. You should really rethink-“

 He was interrupted by a low growl, so canine-sounding I almost had to look to make sure he hadn’t transformed back. “Rethink,” Wulf scoffed. “I’ve done nothing but, since I became elven again. But answer me this – where else should I go? To an Alienage, to be treated like a servant, not allowed to carry weapons or defend myself? Back to the Dalish, where I will be an outsider forever, not permitted to marry or have a family myself? I am a wolf, not a sheep, and I am prepared for whatever sacrifice this life requires. At least my choice would be my own.”

 We exchanged glances again, and finally Duncan spoke. “I’m not saying no, but I’m not saying yes. We need Grey Wardens, Maker knows, but I must be sure you are appropriate. If you truly wish to Join, you will travel with us as a companion as we head to Denerim. We will talk, and I will evaluate your skills, and I may choose to recruit you. That’s the best I can offer.”

 Wulf agreed, reluctant and maybe a little bitter; Aedan took him down to the village to purchase him some better armour, as well as clothing and whatever other supplies he needed. We introduced him to the group at supper, and everyone welcomed him warmly. They started peppering him with questions about being a werewolf, which he answered with a barely polite monosyllable as often as possible, and after a while everyone got the hint and quit pestering him. We found him accommodations at the castle, and he went to his room early.

 Leaving in the morning took, figuratively, forever. First we had to wait for Isolde to finish packing, then for her things to be put onto carts, then for the few horses in Eamon’s stables to be harnessed to a carriage for Isolde, Connor, and Eamon. Teagan and Theron rode, Blake riding in front of Theron’s saddle, and I imagined they might be relieved not to be riding in the carriage also. The rest of us were on foot, as usual, but given that the carts and carriage could only travel at any sort of speed on snow-packed roads, half the time walking was going to be faster than riding anyway. A templar accompanied us on horseback, presumably to watch over Connor; Wynne and the mage tutor assigned to Connor travelled in the carriage.

 With all the delays, we only made a few miles the first day before stopping early to have Eamon’s pavilion set up. Our group set up camp nearby but separate, for which I was thankful; even so, we could still hear Isolde complaining about her accommodations, demanding to know why we weren’t staying with whatever minor noble lived nearby. I almost laughed at Eamon having to justify it, but not being able to trust anyone not to turn us in was no laughing matter.

 Teagan and Theron abandoned Eamon and Isolde at their first opportunity to join us by our fire with our simple tents. Blake came with them and fell asleep cuddled up to me by the fire; Alistair carried him carefully to his own bedroll near Theron’s when everyone went to bed.

 We made slightly better time for the next several days, as Eamon had put his foot down and refused to allow the Arlessa to unpack much off the carts. Despite that, the trip, which would normally take two weeks, was going to take at least three. Eamon assured us that we’d likely still be to the capitol earlier than most of the other nobles, given they’d all be travelling with families as well.

 As we swung through the bannorn, just north of Lothering, the Grey Wardens and I took to ranging out in front of the carriage, scouting for trouble. We did run into a few isolated bands of darkspawn, which we defeated easily; Wulf didn’t panic at his first sight of darkspawn, and managed to put an arrow into one of their eyes, which was a good sign.

 Wulf set his tent up away from the rest of us and kept to himself for the most part; I wondered if he was afraid of getting close and being sent away, or if he was just that unsociable. Not that I could blame him – being quite literally raised by wolves, only to be turned away from them as an adult, probably wouldn’t make someone comfortable with chit chat.

 We were ambushed one night by a group of darkspawn much larger than we’d seen in a while; it was almost like they’d been looking for us, though at least we didn’t have any Archdemon dreams to start it off. I woke with a start when Jowan, who’d been on watch, started shouting. We’d taken to sleeping in armour again, so Alistair and I both sat up, grabbed weapons from where we’d left them near our bedrolls, and were basically ready to fight.

 As soon as I woke I could feel them – I wasn’t as precise as Duncan was able to be, but it felt like there were a lot of them.

 We scrambled out of the tent, to find the rest of our camp rising as well; the Arl’s camp wasn’t getting up as quickly, and we all soon realised what a liability that pavilion was. Darkspawn weren’t smart, but they were generally clever enough to aim for those who seem to be leaders.

 We had to hope that sensing the Wardens would draw them away.

 And it seemed to work, at first – the initial wave of darkspawn broke on the Warden’s part of the camp, and after long experience, we all worked together to carve through them. There were archers out in the darkness somewhere, though, and first Sten, and then Aedan were both hit.

 With a snarl, Wulf just vanished into the night. I gawked for a moment at where he’d been – he’d just faded into the shadows, and was gone. The rest of us regrouped, huddled behind shields and tents to escape from the archers’ aim.

 The next wave, however, came from the opposite side of the camp. As a unit, the Grey Wardens turned and headed towards Eamon’s pavilion, and our companions followed. Alistair and Bel stayed at the back, blocking arrows with their shields; it proved unnecessary, as Wulf slunk out of the shadows, blood streaking his face, with a feral grin; no more arrows came our way.

 At Duncan’s shouted command, I stayed next to Eamon’s pavilion in case any darkspawn made it through. Leli and Wynne stayed with me, while Anders was still rapidly firing healing spells at Sten and Aedan, who seemed to be refusing to hold still long enough for him to heal. The soldiers in Eamon’s camp had finally found some sort of formation, but they couldn’t predict where the attacks would come from, and they were scared and many were inexperienced.

 A shriek made it through the lines of soldiers, ghosting through gaps they hadn’t even noticed, disemboweling a soldier as it came; Leliana was drawn away to fight it when it veered off to one side, leaving Wynne and I. I wasn’t too worried; Leli was more than capable of managing one shriek, never mind whatever soldiers might be over there to help.

 Next, Wynne got called forward; Anders had been injured, and needed healing. I nodded to her, and she reluctantly left me alone. I hadn’t heard anything from the pavilion; I hoped Theron, Teagan, and Eamon were arming themselves and staying inside to defend should the worst happen.

 And then I felt it; the greasy, disgusting aura of magic that signalled an emissary was nearby. I reached out and gripped the mana, shutting down the casting of whatever spell he’d been working on, and I heard a startled yelp from the direction the aura had originated. But then there was a second aura, and I grabbed hold of that as well. When the third began to cast, I was desperate; I didn’t think I could hold anymore. I frantically threw shields up on myself as well as the soldiers I could see nearby, which lowered the pressure enough for me to grab the third’s mana just as a fireball ripped through the ranks of soldiers.

 A cluster of darkspawn pressed through the hole; the three emissaries, but also an archer and a couple of hurlocks wielding wicked-looking swords. They were looking around, clearly trying to find something. I could only assume it was me, given that I’d stolen their mana, but it was unusual for them to even realise what was happening. I gripped my daggers, slipping around the group to slice the archer across the neck and move away; the remaining hurlocks turned and swung their swords through the space I’d been standing in moments before. _They know about me. They know I’m here_. I felt sick, but I had no choice. Someone needed to stop them before they attacked the pavilion.

 I snuck behind one of the hurlocks and jammed my daggers into a gap in its armour, before twisting as Zevran had taught me and pulling them back out. Black blood poured out of the wounds, and the hurlock dropped with a gurgle. I turned just in time to catch the second hurlock’s blade on my crossed daggers, thankful for Sten’s teaching as well. After deflecting, I leaped away, dodging another wild swing, just in time to hear a shout and see an armoured form with a greatsword smash into the hurlock from the side.

 I turned to deal with the emissaries; disoriented from having their mana cut off, they made easy targets. I finished them off, dodging a few half-hearted swings from a staff, to see Theron standing over the still form of a hurlock.

 “Thanks.” I scanned the darkness, trying to sense if any more darkspawn were coming. The numbers seemed to be dwindling, and I didn’t think any would be breaking through the lines again.

 “My pleasure, my Lady.” He grinned at me, black blood streaking his face. He appeared uninjured. “I couldn’t let you stand out here defending us all alone.” His expression was odd, as I turned him to face the light. I heard whispering behind me, and realised Eamon and Isolde had witnessed the exchange.

 “Hold still, and keep your mouth shut for a sec.” I pulled out a rag and carefully wiped the darkspawn blood away from his mouth and nose. “You’re going to need a bath.”

 He chuckled, but I missed what he said next, turning to look out into the darkness again. I could feel sunshine, and in a moment I was rewarded with the sight of a brilliant smile on the face of my husband. He ran up and swept me into his arms, twirling me and kissing me softly.

 “Thank the Maker. I saw this group break through, and I couldn’t stop them. I was too hard pressed to follow right away.”

 “I’m fine.” I kissed him again, a chaste, reassuring peck. “Let’s check for survivors?”

 Sending Theron back inside the pavilion – grumbling the whole way – Alistair and I weaved our way through darkspawn corpses, finding only charred victims of the fireball I hadn’t been able to stop. We made it out to where the others were, slitting throats of wounded darkspawn and separating enemy from friendly corpses. Alistair and I lent a hand, dragging darkspawn into a pile to be burned, laying the soldiers out for a pyre later.

 I ran into Wynne, who assured me Anders was fine – he had a new set of scars, but she’d healed him right up. He was sitting with his back to one of the wagons, Solona kneeling at his side awkwardly, not touching him, just fluttering anxiously. It was sweet, and I smiled softly. The rest of our companions were bumped and bruised but otherwise unharmed, and were helping out with sorting the bodies, Leli praying over our dead. Surviving soldiers had begun collecting wood for pyres.

 It was exhausting, and when the pyres were finally lit and the darkspawn burned, we all collapsed around the fire at our camp.

 “We have a problem, Duncan,” I began, uncertain how to phrase my concern.

 “Only the one?” Alistair teased, and I flashed him a brief half-hearted smile, before turning back to the older Warden.

 “The darkspawn know about me.”

 “Pardon?”

 “Look, that group that broke through…they were testing. Looking for me. Checking to see if they could locate me, seeing how much power I could absorb.”

 “What makes you say that?” To his credit, Duncan didn’t brush me off or ignore my vague warning.

 “They were expecting me. When I killed one of them, the others had been waiting for it, attacking the spot they figured I must have been standing in. They couldn’t sense me, see me, but they knew I had to be there somewhere. And those emissaries…they were spacing out their casting. One started, and when I stole its mana, the next began. It was like they were waiting to see how much I could take.” I swallowed, remembering the gut-wrenching fear when I guessed what they were up to. “Which is two, if you’re curious. I had to expend some of it in shields before I could get the third.

 “Duncan….they’re _learning_.”

 Alistair paled, reaching out to wrap his arm around my shoulders. Duncan looked thoughtful.

 “How would that help them?” Aedan looked like he felt sick. “You killed them. They learned nothing.”

 “The darkspawn…it is possible the Archdemon can not only direct their actions, but also see what they see.” Duncan stood, pacing back and forth. “And even if not, he could be learning through failure – sending increasingly larger groups until one succeeds. Testing your strength.”

 I pulled my knees up, wrapping my arms around them and putting my forehead on one knee. “So what now?”

 Duncan knelt in front of me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Now nothing. We continue. But we don’t leave you alone to fight the darkspawn. Someone has to remain with you.” He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. “We will be ready for them next time.

 “And for right now, we need to move,” Duncan stated, to a chorus of groans. “Would you like to camp among the corpses? Besides, if Sierra is right, that means they know where we are.”

 Reluctantly we all began packing up. Aedan and Duncan went to talk to Eamon, so we packed their tents as well. When Aedan returned, his expression indicated extreme murderous intent, thinly-veiled. Duncan just looked tired. Without a word, both men shouldered their packs and headed off, as though they didn’t even care if the Arl followed.

 We stopped in the early afternoon at the first decent campsite we found with a stream for getting cleaned up. Eamon’s men had indeed followed, and his pavilion was set up quickly nearby. Aedan had barely spoken a word to anyone; he went to the stream to wash up, and retired to his tent early, Zev following him. I hoped Zev gave him one of those Antivan massages he was always bragging about.

 I insisted Duncan go to bed early as well, and presented him with one of Anders’ sleeping potions when he was done washing. He started to object, but the expression on my face must have been either much scarier, or more likely, more stubborn-looking than he was prepared to deal with, and he drank the potion with a sigh and disappeared for the rest of the night.

 The rest of the Grey Wardens and I split watch, excluding Anders due to his need for rest after healing. I drew last watch with Wulf, while Alistair had one of the middle watches; we went to bed early as well.

 We made love, both desperate to reassure ourselves that we were both alive and well; changing back into armour afterwards just sucked. I sighed as I cuddled into Alistair’s side as well as I could with his ridiculously bulky plate, and slept.

 My watch with Wulf was quiet; we chatted a little bit, but he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. He asked questions about the Wardens, which I prevaricated; it was clear he’d realised I knew more about them than our other non-Warden companions. I told him I’d promised Duncan to keep Warden secrets, and that my knowledge was from the game we’d told him about. In return, I asked questions about his life as a werewolf, which he dodged. It was awkward.

 At least I’d gotten used to his eyes, and no longer struggled with where to look when we spoke.

 I complimented him on his poise in the face of darkspawn, and he shrugged. “Fought bears, wolves, some of them Blighted; heard enough about darkspawn to know what to expect. Wish they smelled better, though.”

 “Is your sense of smell more sensitive?”

 He shrugged. “Than what? Seems to be, but is that because I was a werewolf, or just because of how I was made?”

 I contemplated that for a minute, and then sighed. “You could die.” He looked at me curiously, the firelight reflecting strangely in his eyes. “In the Joining,” I clarified.

 He nodded. “I gathered as much.”

 “So, then, why?” I really, really wanted to know.

 He fidgeted for a moment uncomfortably. “I need something. To have made a choice. I’m limited by my background, by these pointed ears, by the choices of others. I can’t fit in with the elves, the humans won’t accept me, and the only home I can remember is gone, a crumbling ruin empty of life. I need something that is mine, not just what I got stuck with when all was said and done. Somewhere I can use my skills without being arrested.”

 It was depressing, but he was right. What else was there for an elven, non-Dalish, almost feral former wolf in Thedas? I sighed.

 “If Duncan asks me, I’ll support you Joining the Wardens.”

 “Thank you.”

 We passed the rest of the watch in silence, waking the camp shortly after first light. Wulf had slipped out into the bushes and come back with some fresh fish and a handful of rabbits; the others set to skinning them while I made the porridge. I wasn’t as disgusted by the necessity of catching and cleaning animals anymore, but it was still something I didn’t think I’d be able to do. Oghren teased me, calling me a Princess, offering me some dried, salted nug from his pack instead; I gagged, and Leli grabbed Schmooples and shut him in her tent, shooting the dwarf dirty looks.


	97. Bad Acting

Chapter Ninety-Seven: *Bad Acting

 

We left a camp with the Dalish and Circle emissaries just south of Denerim; Dariel stayed with them, having barely spoken to any of us since we’d returned from Orzammar. I gathered he was to become Keeper Lanaya’s First, and it seemed he’d already found himself a mate, based on the single tent shared between him and Mithra. We arranged runners to come to the gates of Denerim daily at noon, where we could meet with them if we needed to each day.

 The rest of the trip to Denerim was uneventful. Before we were visible from the gates, we stopped to pull ourselves together. Theron dismounted, donning an old, dented full helm, and Alistair took his place on the horse, beside Teagan; I wondered if he’d take after his father and fall off, but it didn’t happen. Theron walked at his side as a bodyguard. Blake walked with me near the front with the Grey Wardens.

 I had decided that Alistair and I should pretend not to be together while in Denerim – I wanted Theron to see the full depth that Anora was willing to sink to in order to keep her throne, and part of that was Alistair seeming to be ‘available.’ I knew it was a good idea, despite Alistair’s misgivings, but turning to wave at him one last time before walking through the gates, I was starting to doubt the wisdom of the idea. We’d been separated by a few hundred feet for less than an hour, and I already missed him. He’d tried changing my mind with puppy eyes; I’d promised to try to sneak into his room later.

 The gates into Denerim were actually manned, for a change; Aedan recognised some of the guards as being Kylon’s new recruits. They winked at Aedan and let us pass, saluting Teagan and Alistair –those they assumed to be nobility – formally. One of them broke off from the gate to walk beside Aedan, ostensibly ‘escorting’ us to Eamon’s estate. He seemed to be giving Aedan a report of what had been going on; I looked forward to hearing it later.

 Gorim took his leave, promising to come to Eamon’s estate after checking in on his wife at their little house in the Market District. I rather hoped the reunion would go well and we wouldn’t see him for a few days.

 Eamon’s estate was one of the few buildings that was the same size in real life as it was in the game. There weren’t even close to enough bedrooms for everyone, so while Teagan, Aedan, and Alistair got rooms of their own, the rest of the men were put up in the barracks with Eamon’s soldiers. The women ended up sharing guest rooms – I shared with Solona, while Leli shared with Wynne. Morrigan preferred to spend her nights as a bird, outside, alone. It amused me to think of Theron in the Barracks, while Alistair slept in a lavish guest room, but surprisingly, Theron appeared to be the less uncomfortable of the two at the arrangement.

 Isolde immediately swept off to the room she shared with Eamon, Connor and his entourage following behind; I hoped I’d seen the last of her for a while. Eamon had implied he planned to put them both on a boat to the Free Marches within the week; I’d have thought he was trying to allow Connor to escape, but he’d apparently made a deal with the mage and templar who had been teaching Connor to accompany them.

 We weren’t greeted by Loghain, Howe, and Cauthrien upon arrival; I learned why later when we met for supper and Aedan told everyone what the guard had reported to him.

 “Loghain’s holed up in the Palace; no one’s so much as seen him in weeks. After we left, there was some rioting, even amongst the nobles; Loghain pulled back to the Palace and Howe to his estate. They didn’t have enough men even to hold the noble’s district; Leonas Bryland and Alfstanna Eremon have openly declared against Loghain, and nobles are flocking to their banner.”

 Aedan turned to Eamon. “That should make it easier on us, then. Have you been in contact with either of them?”

 “I sent messengers, but have not received responses yet. Not that I expected to – the messengers would have gone to Waking Sea and South Reach first. I told them I was coming to Denerim; I imagine they’d wait to talk here.”

 Aedan hummed in thought. “Well, from what I hear, neither Loghain nor Howe will be travelling much without a legion of soldiers. We need to talk to Alfstanna and Leonas.”

 “I expect we will get a different opportunity soon,” I reminded everyone. We decided to give it a day or two, and then move forward if nothing presented itself.

 I snuck into Alistair’s room the first night in the estate; fortunately, my room was right across the hall, and I was able to watch through my own open door until I had an opportunity to get in unseen. Solona laughed at me and pulled our door shut behind me.

 I got there before Alistair had managed to untangle himself from Eamon, so I spent a few minutes unpacking his things. A servant had turned his bed down, so when I ran out of things to do, I stripped and climbed into his bed naked, falling asleep almost instantly.

 I woke when a cold draft hit me, opening my eyes to see Alistair in nothing but his loose linen pyjama bottoms, staring at my naked form with darkening eyes. He stripped out of the pants frantically, crawling into the bed and pulling the covers up over us both. He kissed me, initially soft and sweet, but quickly deepening. His tongue swept into my mouth aggressively, and I gasped.

 “Just what do you think you’re doing, serrah?”

 He snorted, weaving his fingers into my hair to tilt my head and attack my neck. “Well, since someone obviously bought me such a beautiful gift, I couldn’t possibly turn it down…” He nipped my neck, making me squirm.

 “Oh you think I’m some sort of possession to be bought, do you?” I gasped again as he nibbled the opposite side of my neck.

 “Well, you must be – what else would you be doing in my bed, naked?”

 Then his head disappeared under the blanket, and I felt him slide downwards pressing kisses to my neck, then my collarbones, then finally taking a nipple into his warm mouth. I groaned, biting my lip to stifle any noise, pulling him closer and arching into him. I could feel I was already wet and needy, but he took his time, teasing me with his stubble, little sucks and nibbles inflaming my skin, driving me mad.

 He was kneeling between my thighs, his leg pressing up against me, and I tried to grind down against him, wanting more stimulation. I could feel his breath ghost across my abdomen as he chuckled and moved his leg away; I whined, stuffing the side of my hand in my mouth – my lip was starting to bleed, and I still needed to avoid the noise I knew I’d be making in a moment.

 Not shouting his name when I felt his tongue tease at my lower lips took every ounce of willpower I had; not murdering him when he refused to do more than tantalise was even worse. He lapped at the moisture, not enough pressure to even dip into my slit, and I bucked, unsuccessfully. A few more moments and I reached down, grabbing a handful of short hair and tugging.

 I got one merciful swipe of his tongue over my firm little nub, and then he stopped. Just stopped. I almost cried in frustration. He slid back up beside me, stroking my belly in soothing motions while I panted.

 “Dare I ask what I’m being punished for?” I asked, voice hoarse with restrained lust.

 “For insisting we pretend not to be married. For making us sleep apart.”

 I opened one eye to glance at him, trying to evaluate the seriousness of his complaint. His expression was a mask that I couldn’t read, and I grunted and rolled to face him. “Alistair-“

 “Don’t you ‘Alistair’ me.” He exaggerated the last syllable of his name like I did, not saying ‘Alister’ like most Fereldans. “You say it’s necessary, but I’m going to lose my mind, having to pretend to be a king, to act like I want this…and now I don’t even have you with me.”

 “You listen to me, husband. It doesn’t matter whether I am holding your hand, whether I’m ten feet away or a thousand, I am always with you. Always.” I slid on top of him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pressing my face into his neck, desperately trying to assuage my feelings of guilt. “I love you, Alistair Theirin.”

 He sighed and pulled me closer, the calluses on his hands making me shiver as they stroked my back. “I know. I love you too. I just hate this, after everything…”

 I kissed him then, twining my tongue around his, letting him taste the blood on my lower lip. He groaned and squeezed me tighter, one hand sliding down to cup my ass, the other holding my head, massaging my scalp lightly.

 “Let me make it up to you,” I whispered, spreading my legs to straddle his hips, sliding back and sitting up until I had him sheathed snugly inside me. I put his hands on my hips, encouraging him to set the tempo by lifting and plunging me back down, while I gave him a little show, cupping my breasts, tweaking the nipples. He groaned, voice thick, and it was so sexy I shuddered. Soon I was rocking frantically, one finger rubbing my clit, my head thrown back in ecstasy. I’d stopped worrying about being quiet, and my gasps echoed slightly in the large room. _I’ll just have to hope this room is mostly sound-proof._

 My orgasm crashed over me unexpectedly, the frantic pace he set combined with the pent-up frustration of him teasing me earlier combining to undo me, and I collapsed against his chest with a sob. He let me lay there, stroking my hair as I recovered, and then I found myself being rolled over onto my back. He was still hard, still buried inside me, and I gasped in surprise.

 “I’m not done with you yet, little minx,” he whispered as he began thrusting into me, slowly, grinding against me with every stroke.

 I shuddered as my over-wrought nerves responded to his insistence, his assertiveness as arousing as I always found it; I looked up at his beautiful face, forehead pressed against mine, eyes closed in blissful concentration. “Once more for me, love; I want to hear you scream.”

 Entirely distracted by the fire crawling through my veins, I tried to demur, “I can’t – no one can hear-“

 He chuckled and picked up the pace, rubbing against my neck with his stubble. “Not my idea, remember? Personally, I don’t care if everyone hears.” He ground against me again and nipped the irritated skin of my neck with his sharp teeth. “Come for me, darlin’. One more time, I want to see you come apart at the seams.” His Starkhaven accent was back, and I moaned as he continued to talk dirty in my ear.

 His pace picked up again, and I couldn’t take it anymore; I felt my pelvic muscles clamp down, and in a panic I bit into his shoulder to stop the wail from escaping my throat as I came. His rhythm suffered as he spilled himself inside me, letting out a muffled roar of completion, and then he collapsed on top of me heavily.

 When he finally rolled off, I looked ruefully at his shoulder where I’d left visible tooth marks, though fortunately I hadn’t drawn blood. I blushed and he smirked at me. His fingers brushed over my swollen lip, not bleeding anymore but still tender.

 “We’re going to need to get you a muzzle if we keep this up,” he teased.

 “Since when are you such a pervert?” I groused, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile. I curled up languorously in his arms, listening to his hammering heartbeat slowly relent. “I don’t want to be apart, you know that, right?”

 “I know.” He kissed my hair. “It was a good excuse to punish you, though. Seeing you like that – flushed and desperate…”

 “I’ve created a monster,” I sighed, and he laughed.

 “Maybe tomorrow I’ll set up our tent in here.”

 We shared grins, and fell asleep still smiling.

 I woke to darkspawn nightmares, sitting straight up with a strangled gasp. Alistair was still sleeping, looking so vulnerable, so beautiful in the dim light. I pressed a kiss to his forehead before finding my clothes and dressing quietly.

 I snuck across the hall in the early morning, before the servants were up for the day, cursing my stubborn need to show Anora off in the worst possible light. I stumbled into my own room to steal a few more minutes of sleep, as well as to mess up the bed so no one would notice I hadn’t slept there. Solona was sleeping on her stomach, one arm falling off the edge of the bed, her mouth open and snoring softly; without waking her, I crawled onto the other side of the large bed and fell deeply asleep.

 Aedan knocking on the door woke both Solona and I some time later; we dressed quickly and headed into the estate’s dining room to find Duncan, Alistair, Zevran, and Aedan gathered before us with Teagan and Eamon. A quick glance around found a fully armoured, helmeted Theron ‘guarding’ the door. Alistair gave me a big smile that he hastily hid with a large mouthful of some sort of pastry. Aedan told Solona she was welcome to have breakfast in the barracks with the men, and she hurriedly excused herself to do so. There was a new face seated near Eamon, an elf who could only have been Erlina.

 Her accent wasn’t quite as irritating as Isolde, but her voice held none of Leli’s sweet lilt either. She was a thin, nervous-looking woman who kept wringing her hands in an overly-dramatic display that left me comparing her to bad B-movie actors on Earth.

 She was in the middle of a conversation with Aedan and Eamon, to which Duncan was simply listening, expression inscrutable. The discussion resumed where it left off as I sat down and began filling a plate. I half-listened, knowing what she was going to say, but realised that Aedan had totally ambushed her and left her reeling. I struggled not to laugh.

 “Oh, but Warden, my Lady! She is in danger, and-“

 “Yes, yes, she’s been taken by Arl Howe, we know. What I’d like to know is what makes you think we have any interest in freeing her?” I saw Theron twitch, but fortunately he managed to keep his mouth shut.

 “She is the Queen! You will need her support…you will be held accountable if she comes to harm and you could-“

 “What, you think the Landsmeet will hang us for not risking our lives to cross Howe? If you had any sense, you’d have gone to some of those other nobles and asked for help, and I’ll bet they’ve said no. I’m not saying we won’t rescue her, but you have to admit this is the most preposterous way of asking for a favour, especially one that isn’t really beneficial to us in any way,”

 “Warden…” Eamon began.

 Aedan waved him off. “Like I said, I haven’t decided we won’t rescue her. But what I will say is that we aren’t going to be requesting your help to do so. Thank you for notifying us of her Majesty’s situation; we will take it from here. You are excused.” His firm tone would brook no argument, and so with one last imploring glance sent Eamon’s way, she stood and meekly crept out of the room.

 Eamon gestured and the other servants filed out behind her; Theron closed and locked the door and turned, pulling of his helmet.

 “Aedan,” his tone was a mix of anger, shock, and disappointment, “what in the void was that about? You don’t want to free my wife?”

 “Theron, think about it for a moment. We know from Sierra that when we go in there, Cauthrien will be waiting with overwhelming force to capture us. I don’t know who or how, but someone finds out what Erlina’s plan is, and spills it to Cauthrien. Maybe it’s Anora – we’ve all already admitted that’s a possibility. But what if it’s Erlina? Howe could have turned her, threatened her. Maybe she was never that loyal to Anora. We will find your wife, but no one can know when or how we’ll do it.”

 Theron sank into a chair and ran a shaky hand through his golden locks. “Erlina has been with Anora since before we were married. I’d hate to think…”

 “She could be being blackmailed. Maybe she has family they’ve threatened. We can’t be sure. And if it isn’t her, she can’t accidentally tell anyone else what she doesn’t know, including Anora, either.”

 Theron nodded, stuffed a piece of bacon in his mouth, grimaced, and put his helmet back on. “I hate this thing.” Alistair nodded sympathetically, and I winced thinking about the lice incident. Helmets weren’t my favourite thing either. Theron stood, unlocked the door, and then turned back. “I don’t want to know your plan either. I think I’ll go train with the soldiers, perhaps.” He left, pulling the door shut behind him.

 There was silence for a few moments after the door closed, and then Aedan sighed. “That could have gone better.”

 I shook my head. “Should have gone much, much worse. He’s growing up.”

 Alistair grinned at me, and even Eamon smiled.

 Duncan cleared his throat. “Anyone have any brilliant ideas?”

 Zevran sat forward, all pretense at languid lounging gone. “What we need, my friends, is a distraction, no? Something that will draw Loghain – and this Cauthrien – out. Something that won’t give them enough time to call Howe away from his dungeon. If they are busy, they cannot capture our dear Warden, or anyone else.”

 “What would you suggest?” Aedan gave Zevran an approving smile, and the assassin actually blushed slightly.

 “As awesome as I am, I’m afraid I don’t have any good ideas in that regard. Everything I can think of could involve someone getting hurt, which knowing you, you’d like to avoid.”

 “I have an idea, actually,” Eamon stated, surprising me. “With the right support, I think we could draw their attention with a protest. If the right people – me, Alistair, Teagan, maybe Alfstanna or Leonas – go to the Palace gates with enough support to ensure our safety, we could demand to talk to Loghain. If we make a big enough fuss, Loghain will have Cauthrien doing gate security. During that time, Warden, you could sneak in to the Arl of Denerim’s estate and rescue Anora.”

 Duncan appeared thoughtful. “I may be able to improve the chances of Cauthrien being there by showing myself. By now Loghain must be aware that I am alive – I’m sure that messenger outside Orzammar sent word – and he will send her to arrest me. If we travel with enough support, they won’t be able to do so, but it will definitely gain their attention.”

 All of us immediately started loudly protesting, except Eamon, whose expression was carefully blank. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, wondering if he was somehow hoping to get rid of Duncan to gain more control over Alistair or even Theron. Aedan noticed my gaze and cut off all the arguing with a gesture to Eamon to speak.

 “What would you like me to say?” the nobleman asked. “Duncan is right. It will definitely draw the attention we’re hoping for. But there’s no doubt it’s dangerous – if they have more forces than we believe they do in the Palace, they could be successful in arresting him, possibly even anyone who supports us. But the choice is Duncan’s to make, is it not?”

 I stared at him, wishing for some form of ESP, trying to see signs of deceit in his expression; there was nothing. Aedan and I exchanged glances, and he shrugged slightly.

 “It’s worth the risk,” Duncan declared. “If the worst happens and I am killed or captured, you can go on to end the Blight without me.”

 “Duncan…” Alistair protested, with no convincing argument but still not happy about the concept.

 “It will be alright, Alistair. Peace.” He put his hand on my husband’s shoulder, and I saw Alistair squeeze his eyes shut, trying to block out the worry. “Besides, you’ll be coming with me. I won’t be alone.” He turned to Aedan. “If you’re going to try to sneak in, you’re going to need a small team talented at hiding in the shadows. I’d suggest that you take three non-Wardens with you, and the rest of our group can come with me.”

 Aedan nodded, thinking. “We need to do some reconnaissance, find a way in. I think I’ll bring Zev, Leli, and Wulf, if he’ll agree. And Anders, if that’s alright; we’ll need a healer. We also need a rescue plan in place in case I am taken, in spite of our precautions.”

 With that, it was decided that Zev and Leli would be sent to scope out the estate, while Aedan, Alistair, and Eamon would drop in on some of the other nobles currently in Denerim and try to convince them to march on the Palace in a few days. Duncan wanted to sneak into the Warden compound; the rest of us would either stay at Eamon’s, or serve as security walking around Denerim.

 Aedan asked me to stay behind and keep an eye on Theron, who for all his recent maturity, was still a bit impulsive; Zevran left to grab Leliana and head quietly out into Denerim, and Alistair and Aedan got dressed, while most of our companions escorted them, Eamon, and Teagan to the Gnawed Noble.

 I availed myself of a bathtub, not missing the evident relief when I explained to the servants that they didn’t need to bring me hot water; I showered, using Sereda’s gift, then dressed warmly and went out to find Theron.

 He’d spent the morning training, and asked to borrow my shower; he cleaned up out in the barracks – currently largely empty as most of the soldiers were either guarding the estate or escorting Eamon – and met me in the library, a similar room to the one in Redcliffe Castle. He wore his helmet through the estate, only taking it off after locking the door behind himself.

 “I hope you don’t mind? I hate this helmet, and I have to wear it constantly here.”

 “Of course not. I appreciate the company – I hate being left behind.” I curled up in a chair, legs under me.

 “Now you know how I feel,” he grumbled, and I winced. “I know, it’s for the best, but it doesn’t make it any easier. My brother is at risk because Loghain may try to assassinate him like he tried with me.”

 “Alistair will be fine. Loghain’s not stupid enough to believe he could get away with that twice. And things have changed; he doesn’t have the power, nor probably the manpower, to do it.”

 “I still wish to know why. Why he left us. Did he truly believe it was for the best?” Theron looked sad.

 “I don’t know, Theron. There were a lot of darkspawn, and I’m not sure you could have been victorious even if he charged. Your father once made him promise never to risk the entire army to save just one man. But I still believe it was more personal than that.”

 “How so?”

 “Well, let me think.” I scratched at my nose thoughtfully. “For starters, can I tell you how I expect the conversation with him went when you informed him you’d be fighting in the vanguard with the Wardens? Tell me if I’m wrong.” He nodded assent. “Right. I expect he explained his strategy to you, and I’m betting he didn’t assign you a place, or if he did, it was somewhere in the back, like with the squires.”

 “The servants, actually.”

 “Of course.” I rolled my eyes. “So you were offended and declared you would fight with the Wardens. And he went off on a rant about what a foolish child you were, and how you were so naïve to trust the Wardens, and how the glory of battle was not meant for you. He told you to do your duty, and made some comment comparing you unfavourably to your father. And then you told him he couldn’t make you follow orders, and you placed yourself in the Vanguard. Am I right?”

 “More or less, yes. There was considerably more shouting and disparaging my intelligence, but otherwise you are correct.”

 “And that’s why I think it was personal. Because, Theron…anyone who knows you would realise that he chose the worst possible strategy for making you comply. You’re many things, but you do not lack conviction. You don’t see yourself as a coward or stupid, and you will struggle against any odds to prove someone wrong, especially Loghain, if challenged. The worst way to get you to do something is try to force you to do it, to make it a battle of wills.”

 He nodded, looking confused.

 I sighed. “Do you know what I would have said, in his place?” He shrugged. “I would have chosen a place – perhaps on the bridge over the battlefield, or somewhere else – where you were prominent, you could be seen, but you could also see the entire battle. I’d have a group of messengers, a few soldiers, and a mage standing with you. And I’d have made you the commander. It would be for you to decide when to light the beacon, when Loghain would charge; when to retreat, if it didn’t go well. And do you know what I’d have said to convince you?”

 He looked intrigued, which I took as a good sign.

 “Do you play chess? Does chess exist here?”

 “Yes. It’s an Orlesian game – not many Fereldans play, but I learned. I used to play with my father, and sometimes Anora or even Loghain.”

 “And when you play chess…when a piece, say a knight or a castle, when they checkmate the opposing king, and win the game, is it the piece we celebrate? Do we take it for drinks, toast its skill, keep portraits of it on the wall? Is it the piece that gets the glory? Or is it the hand that moved it, the mind making the tough decisions that we admire? Soldiers, even Grey Wardens…they are chess pieces. To be used strategically when necessary, by a superior intelligence watching the big picture and choosing the battles. You were not meant to be a pawn; you were meant to be the mastermind, watching the battle and moving the pieces. You needed to be somewhere you could see and control the flow of the battle, even if that meant a retreat when defeat was obvious. Standing in the vanguard, all you could be is a pawn.”

 I stopped and let him think for a few moments. I could almost see the wheels spinning.

 “If Loghain had said that, had told you that the glory goes to the best Commander, not the best chess piece, what would you have done?”

 “I’d have been the Commander.” He smiled ruefully. “You’re saying he manipulated me into being somewhere he could have me killed.”

 “Only if the battle went poorly, of course; he couldn’t justify his withdrawal afterwards otherwise. But I think he suspected the battle was a losing proposition with the forces you had at your disposal, and he used the opportunity to get rid of you. After so many years, practically raising you since childhood, he knew what to say to make you sacrifice yourself. If he’d wanted you to survive, he could have convinced you not to be in the vanguard. For that matter, he could have knocked you over the head and put you on a horse. But once your mind was made up, neither Duncan nor anyone else could change it. The loss of the army, the Grey Wardens…that may have been inevitable. But with you, it was personal.”

 He scowled. “So that’s it? I’m so stupid I couldn’t even see through his manipulations, couldn’t make my own decisions? Maybe he was right and I shouldn’t be king.”

 “Cailan…no.” Calling him by his proper name seemed to anchor him somehow, calm the rage bursting from him. “He was wrong, about a great many things. You aren’t stupid. A little too trusting, perhaps, but how could you have known your father’s best friend, the man who practically raised you, would lose his mind? Your father left a long shadow, and you never felt like you could do anything to prove your worth, while you were standing in it. And those who knew you, who were supposed to protect you, used that to try to destroy you. That is not your fault. All you can do now is learn from it. Listen to the counsel of those around you, but make your own decisions about what’s best. At least then, if you make a mistake, you have no one to blame but yourself, instead of knowing that the mistake was someone else’s, but you will be left to pay for it anyway.”

 He stood abruptly, and paced across the room silently a couple of times. His hair had almost grown out again, the last vestiges of the brown dye long gone, and he combed his fingers through the golden strands roughly as he walked. Suddenly he stopped, turned and bowed to me, to my absolute surprise.

 “Thank you. For being the only person to treat me as a person, not a king, or a foolish boy. I have much to think about, and I bid you goodnight.” He squashed his helmet back on his head, spun on his heel, and left.

 I sat, openmouthed as he walked away. _Well, that could have gone worse, I suppose…_


	98. Insecurity

Chapter Ninety-Eight: Insecurity

 

Duncan arrived back at the estate first, carrying sacks full of armour and weaponry, not anything special but serviceable enough. When he’d been there last, the stash had been raided, presumably by Loghain, but while any documents as well as the Joining supplies had been removed, the gear had been left behind.   To the horror of a couple of passing servants, I helped him sort it out into piles in the foyer, and then repack it in a more useful form – I was that bored. We stored it all in the armoury, out in the barracks; Theron was beating the stuffing out of a sparring dummy, and we both left him alone.

 We ended up eating supper with a small group that included Anders, Jowan, and Solona, as well as Duncan and I; Theron declined to come in from the barracks, and no one else had returned from the Gnawed Noble. Wulf was a topic of conversation; Duncan listened silently while the rest of us discussed the former werewolf openly.

 “He told me werewolves age differently than people. He has no idea how old he is; I thought he might be eighteen, but he tells me he’s probably over thirty.” Anders was fascinated by the physiology of his transformation.

 “But he might as well be younger than me, for all the cultural knowledge he has,” Solona added. “I’ve watched him with the elven servants; he has no idea how to interact with them.”

 “His restraint is admirable, though,” Jowan opined. “I saw one of the soldiers – who apparently didn’t realise he wasn’t one of the servants – try to order him around; he didn’t even react until the soldier called him a knife-ear, and then all he did was draw his dagger and start flashing it around like Zevran does, looking all menacing. The soldier apologised and backed away slowly.”

 I laughed. “He certainly has that menacing thing down pat. Have you heard him growl? I never want to be on his bad side.”

 Almost as one, everyone turned and looked expectantly at Duncan; he deliberately shoveled a large forkful of food into his mouth and chewed slowly, not making eye contact with any of us. Anders sighed, and we all went back to eating as well. _I wonder if he’s made any decisions?_                                                                                                                          

It was late when the group at the Gnawed Noble finally returned; it was a good thing Eamon, Teagan, and Aedan had stayed sober, because it was immediately obvious when he stumbled through the front door that Alistair had definitely not.

 My husband was practically cross-eyed, one arm slung over Aedan’s shoulders, the other being held by a rather irritated-looking Faren, who was dressed like a common soldier. And Alistair, along with an equally smashed Oghren, was singing. Loudly.

 Eamon and Teagan bowed out, leaving the enthusiastic drunks to us. I shot their retreating backs dirty looks, then turned to Aedan.

 “What in the Void…?”

 Aedan shrugged sheepishly. “As, erm, distasteful as this is, it’s actually a good sign. The tavern was full of nobles who are sick of Loghain – the lies, the civil war, his apparent inability to even keep Denerim safe – they kept toasting Alistair, and he really didn’t have any choice but to drink. Turns out even a sip at a time can be a little overwhelming after a while.”

 I rolled my eyes. “Well, I’m not carrying him. Think you can get him back to his room?”

 “’M right here, you know,” Alistair grumbled. “Could talk to me, not about me.”

 “And you won’t even remember it tomorrow. Just don’t pass out until we get to your room,” Faren grumbled.

 “Hey, where’s Zevran?” I wondered, doing a brief head count.

 Aedan’s eyebrows climbed. “I thought he’d be here.”

 “Nope. Huh.”

 Faren and Aedan maneuvered Alistair to his room, and dropped him unceremoniously on the bed. Aedan excused himself to go find Zevran, and Faren turned and left without a word. They left me there with Alistair, who was looking at me with a goofy grin. I grabbed a pair of his cotton sleeping trousers from the armoire, and approached my husband with the armful of cloth.

 He made a grab for me as soon as I came into reach, missing and having to correct his aim before managing to get his arms around my waist. He pulled me closer and pressed his face into my belly, nuzzling against me. He smelled like ale and smoke, and I wrinkled my nose. “Did you actually have to drink this much?”

 “Yup!” he declared cheerfully, pulling me into his lap. “Aedan said so.” He took the trousers from my hand and tossed them to the floor behind me. “Don’t need those. ‘M gonna sleep naked. With you!”

 I giggled; drunk Alistair, for the moment, was cute, if pungent. I wondered if the…performance problems in bed that I’d heard rumours of on Earth applied to a Grey Warden; in any case, it didn’t really matter, because I wasn’t sleeping with him until he smelled better.

 “You stink, love. Let’s get you undressed, and you can go sleep it off.”

 “But…but…” He seemed to be trying to make a point of some sort, but he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. He pulled me tighter to him instead. “Stay?”

  _Damn puppy-dog eyes are going to be the death of me!_ I sighed. “Fine. But no funny business.” He pouted, and I just laughed. “Not my fault you’re drunk as a skunk!”

 I helped him remove his tunic, and pushed him back on the bed; I hadn’t even had time to kneel down to help him with his boots and pants before I heard snoring. Looking at his gorgeous, relaxed, sleeping face, I couldn’t stay annoyed. _It’s a good thing he’s cute._ I groaned and set to work getting him the rest of the way undressed. Fighting with his pants took far too long, and in disgust I left his smallclothes in place. I lifted his legs into the bed, covered him with a blanket, undressed myself, and crawled in on the other side of the bed. I curled up as far from the smell as I could get and promptly fell asleep.

 I snuck back into my own room in the early morning; Alistair didn’t even stir as I left. When I got up for breakfast, Alistair was there, looking pale and wan; he tried to smile at me, but just looked like he was going to be sick. I sat far from him, just in case. Aedan, Zev, and Leli were there; Eamon, Teagan, and Theron were conspicuously absent. They asked me to lock the door, which I did, before sitting down and filling a plate. Alistair chewed listlessly on a bun, looking green every time someone offered him anything more.

 Zevran filled us in on what he and Leliana had found, watching the Arl of Denerim’s estate. “There’s a side entrance we could access, but it goes through the kitchens. We’d be seen, even as awesome as we are.”

 “That was Erlina’s plan,” I explained. “She was going to give you all guard uniforms, and distract the outside guard.”

 “That’s out for a few reasons, then.” Aedan looked at Zevran. “Anything else?”

 “The ramparts,” Leli cut in. “It will take some work to get up there, yes? But it can be done. There’s only one or two guards up there at any given point. We’ll need another day to map out the guard’s schedules.”

 “Very well. I’ll tell Eamon to organise his distraction for tomorrow. Alfstanna and Leonas were at the Gnawed Noble last night toasting Alistair.” Alistair groaned and rubbed his forehead ruefully, and Aedan smirked. “I don’t think it will be hard to get them to agree to confront Loghain, especially if we don’t tell them why. That being the case, I’d like to go check out a few things in the city today. Sierra, can you stick around here and play bodyguard? I want Alistair to stay close to Eamon today while he sends out messages. I’ll meet everyone else in the barracks.”

Alistair went off to have a bath drawn up; Wynne popped in with a potion to help with his hangover, much to his relief. Wynne decided to stay with us as we watched Eamon, and Aedan, Zev, and Leli disappeared to the barracks. I put on my armour and met a much-better smelling Alistair in the hallway outside Eamon’s study. Wynne and I stayed in the hallway while Alistair braved the scowl on the older man’s face and went in.

 The day was boring, mostly consisting of sitting around and doing nothing. We did go on a brief walk, stopping by Bann Alfstanna’s estate and Arl Bryland’s. Wynne and I stayed with the small group of soldiers escorting Eamon and Alistair; Teagan chose to stay behind and keep an eye on Erlina, who’d been reported by some of the servants as asking a lot of inappropriate questions about Aedan, Alistair, Duncan, and the rest of us.

 At the estates, we were left standing around while Alistair and Eamon spoke with the nobles; I did get a glimpse of Alfstanna when she greeted us. In game, she had seemed quite practical; I liked her immediately upon seeing her. She wore casual trousers and a shirt around her home, and I recalled she wore nothing but armour outside of it. She was pretty, with smooth, lustrous brown hair and a kind smile; her mouth was a bit too wide, her eyes a little too large, to qualify as truly beautiful. She looked sort of average, which was refreshing, and actually stopped to offer those of us who weren’t allowed into the meeting refreshments while she spoke with Eamon and Alistair.

 We left there and headed to Leonas Bryland’s estate. I couldn’t recall his appearance from the game, but I knew he was the father to Habren, the obnoxious teenager who I was only too happy to steal from in game. I didn’t get a chance to find out; Eamon and Alistair were shown in by a servant, and the rest of us were left bored in the foyer.

 Both meetings were short; Eamon deigned to inform us that both nobles had agreed to support our ‘protest’ the following day. We went back to the estate, and I spent the rest of the afternoon playing footsy with Alistair under a table as we played cards. I taught him gin rummy, since I was terrible at bluffing. I still didn’t win, so apparently Alistair was just better at cards than me. I’d have thought he was cheating if he was anyone else.

 A group consisting of Bel, Oghren, Wulf, Solona, Jowan, and Duncan came back after having cleaned out the orphanage in the Alienage at the request of the blind templar, Ser Otto. I’d forgotten about that quest, and wished they’d asked me before they had gone; Ser Otto died, which I could have warned them about, maybe prevented. I didn’t say anything; I felt guilty enough, and didn’t want them feeling bad.

 I was surprised that Duncan had agreed to the quest; it was entirely unrelated to the Blight or the Civil War. When I asked him, he merely shrugged, but his eyes strayed to Wulf’s retreating back, and I guessed it had been a test – of skill, or perhaps temperament? – for the would-be Warden. _I wonder if he passed._

 Duncan reassured me that no elves were being sold by Tevinters in the Alienage. He had learned that, using some of the coin and supplies Aedan had given them, many of the elves had secretly armed themselves; in addition, with the supplies they’d been able to buy, the plague had not spread through the Alienage. As a result, a group of healthy, angry, well-armed elves had chased the slavers out of the Alienage before they’d even been able to get established. The group had checked out the back alley and the tenement with the secret tunnel just in case, and found it empty.

 Valendrian and Duncan had spoken for a while, both men urging calm and avoidance of violence. I wondered what the result would be of arming the elves, accidental though it may have been. The bigotry in Thedas didn’t strike me as the kind of thing that bloodshed would improve, and I worried that a bunch of hotheaded, oppressed teenaged elves with weapons could lead to little else. _Not much we can do about it now…though perhaps Theron could put them to use in the army, like Sereda did with the Casteless._

 The group went to get cleaned up, and Alistair and I went back to playing cards. We were interrupted again by the return of a group including Aedan, Prince, Anders, Morrigan, Sten, and Faren. Aedan refused to tell me what they’d been planning to do, but they returned practically dripping blood, with several barely-healed injuries among the lot, and Anders’ and Morrigan’s mana reserves entirely depleted. Wynne came running over to check on everyone, and after helping them heal up, all of them except Aedan were ushered into beds to recover.

 Aedan, refusing to bow to injuries or fatigue, met with Alistair, Duncan, and I in the library. He limped slightly, and I hurried to his side, putting my arm around his waist and allowing him to lean against me. He kissed my forehead and wrapped his arm around my shoulders gratefully.

 “Aedan, seriously, what were you up to? You weren’t that badly injured. All of that blood couldn’t have been yours.”

 “Doesn’t matter about that.” He shook his head. “We ran into the Crow sent to kill Zevran.”

 “Taliesen,” I whispered, suddenly worried. “Where’s Zevran?”

 “He said he needed some time.” Aedan’s expression was dark. “I hope he’s back with Leliana watching Howe’s estate.”

 “He’s not,” came the lilting Orlesian accent of the red-head. “We followed Taliesen to you, and when I returned to Howe’s, he took off on his own. Said he had things to think about.”

 “But Taliesen’s dead, right?” I looked between Leli and Aedan anxiously. “He didn’t convince Zevran to try to leave with him, did he?”

 “Of course not.” Aedan looked offended. “Zev’s…he’s free now.”

 I examined my brother’s face; there was something I was missing, but I was afraid of finding out what. “Aedan, tell me exactly what happened.”

 He started describing the details of the fight, and I interrupted him. “No, no, after. You killed Taliesen and the other Crows, and then…?”

 “We talked.” Aedan scowled, and I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

 “What about?”

 He looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. “He…he asked me if I would hold him to his obligation. Said that, now that Taliesen is dead, he’s free, and asked if I’d let him go.”

 “And you said…?”

 “I told him of course he was free to go.”

 The sick feeling coalesced into a strong feeling of dread. “But not just like that, right? You said he could go if he wanted, but that you hoped he’d stay. That you wanted him with you. Right?”

 “He knows that.” Aedan’s cheeks had flushed defensively. Leliana gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, and Alistair shifted uncomfortably.

 “But you didn’t tell him. You just told him he was free to go.” He nodded, and I just about cried. “Aedan, you are the biggest Maker-damned fool I’ve ever met. Let me guess – you’ve never even told him you love him.”

 “He knows that!” he repeated, sulking.

 I groaned. “No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t trust his own judgement when it comes to love. And instead of reassuring him when he was seeking confirmation, you told him to go.”

 Aedan looked away petulantly. “It’s not like he’s ever said it either.”

 Before my mind caught up with my actions, I reached out and slapped Aedan’s cheek. Not hard, but the shock of it had him looking up at me, his expression clearly showing betrayal, his hand over the spot I’d slapped. Before he could speak, I began ranting. “Did it never occur to you to ask him to translate any of the things he said to you in Antivan? Not even once? Tell me, brother, what is his nickname for you? He calls me ‘cara mia’, or ‘mia sorella’. “My dear’ or ‘my sister’. What does he call you?”

 “Amore mio. So?”

 I looked at Leli, whose face had gone white. “You speak any Antivan, Leli?”

 “Enough for that,” she whispered, horrified. “It means ‘my love’. Didn’t you know?”

 Aedan blanched. “He knows I don’t speak Antivan!”

 I sighed. “Yes, but he also knows that at least two of us in the group could translate that sentence. I imagine he thinks you know, maybe thought that you cared enough to ask someone else for a translation.”

 “But I…I didn’t…why did he say he wanted to leave now that Taliesen is dead?”

 “He didn’t, dimwit. He asked if you wanted him to. Listen, did he ever tell you about his last mission, the one before he came to Ferelden?”

 Aedan shook his head, confused by my change of topic.

 “Okay, I’m not going to tell you. That’s up to him. You’re going to stay here and think about what you’ve done. I’m going to go find him. And when I bring him back, you had better fix this, brother, or so help me…”

 I stood, glad I still wore my armour. Leliana and Alistair stood with me.

 “I’m coming.”

 I nodded at Alistair, thankful for the backup.

 “Me as well,” Leliana offered. “I’ll help you look.”

 Aedan looked at the three of us, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. “Find him? Please? I didn’t…I didn’t know. You have to find him.”

 I nodded and pointed; Aedan limped off to his room slowly, shoulders slumped. I turned to Alistair and Leli. “I’m hoping we won’t have to look that hard. I think I know exactly where to start.”

 Leliana nodded. “The Pearl.”

 “Exactly. Let’s just hope we find him before he does something really stupid.”

 “Like…with a whore?” Alistair whispered in horror.

 “No, worse. Like getting on Isabela’s boat and convincing her to cast off.”

 The trip to the Pearl didn’t take long, but it felt a lot longer; we walked in grim silence, each of us knowing that if we didn’t find him, and soon, Aedan would fall apart. I guessed Aedan, in response to Zevran leaving, had thrown his group into some sort of suicidal fight unprepared – probably killed Gaxkang the Unbound, or some stupid thing – and it would only get worse if we couldn’t find the assassin before Aedan got everyone killed.

 I couldn’t believe my brother’s stupidity. How could he not have seen Zevran’s insecurity? It was obvious even to Alistair, who was not the most insightful man when it came to others’ feelings. In many ways, what he’d done would be no better than how Alistair had reacted after finding out my character had romanced his in the game. Zevran would take it as a sign that he’d never been loved, that Aedan only considered him a temporary way to work off some physical arousal. I worried that we wouldn’t be able to bring him around.

 Walking into the Pearl was awkward, as always; wearing armour made it slightly more bearable, but it didn’t completely stop the lascivious looks from drunken patrons. We made our way across the main room to find Sanga. She didn’t even have to ask; she pointed out a room down the back hall silently and handed me a key. I gave her a grateful nod and a pouch of coin to compensate her for…whatever Zevran had gotten himself into before we arrived.

 We crept down the hall, and I listened at the door before opening it with the key. I had no intention of walking in on Zevran _in flagrante_. I couldn’t hear much, and wasn’t sure if the door was just thicker than I’d assumed, or if there was nothing to hear. Closing my eyes, I mouthed a quick prayer to anyone who would listen that Zevran would have pants on, and then unlocked the door.

 The scene I discovered was not at all what I would have imagined. The first thing I saw was a dishevelled Zevran sitting at a table, shirt unbuttoned and hanging open, but still wearing pants. His hair was a mess, and his eyes blinked blearily at us; he hiccoughed and brought a mug to his lips, taking a drink and dribbling a bit down his chest. Across from him, on the bed, were two female whores, wearing nothing but crotchless lingerie, kissing and groping each other suggestively. They moaned and groaned like the stock audio track for a porn film, every action and sound exaggerated for effect. When I gasped out Zevran’s name, the two stopped what they were doing and scrambled for covers, swearing at me for interrupting.

 I tossed a bag of coin onto the bed. “Take a night off on me, girls.”

 I didn’t wait to see their response before I turned to Alistair, who very carefully kept his eyes averted from the large amount of female flesh on display; he leaned down and hauled Zevran out of the chair, and I grabbed the elf’s other arm. He protested weakly, but together we manhandled him out of the room; Leliana ran ahead and must have bargained with Sanga for the use of a nearby room, because she came back with a key. We went into the empty room and dropped the dramatically inebriated Zevran onto the edge of the bed. Leli closed the door behind us, standing in the hallway with Alistair, and I sank onto a rickety wooden chair.

 “Zevran,” I began, and he winced.

 “I do not wish to hear your lecture, bella donna, unless the three of you are here for a new experience?” He tried to look seductive; in his current state he just looked pathetic.

 I sighed. “I’m not going to lecture you, Zevran. Aedan already got my lecture; I’m here to make sure you’re okay.”

 “Why would he need a lecture? Surely everyone is happier now that the perverted assassin is gone from his life, no?”

 I switched from the chair to sit beside him on the bed, putting an arm around his slim shoulders. “Do you really think so little of me, _mio fratello_? Just because Aedan’s too stupid to admit how he feels doesn’t mean I care about you any less.”

 He rested his head on my shoulder heavily; I wondered briefly just how much alcohol it took to get the Antivan this drunk. “He doesn’t…there’s not…”

 I’d never heard Zevran at a loss for words before, and it made me sad. “He loves you, Zevran. More than anything. He’s just…as insecure as you are, and stupid, to boot.”

 “I realise I have been the stupid one, cara mia. I believed there was something where there isn’t.” He sniffed and gestured out towards the hallway. “I didn’t…I tried, hoped I could make myself forget, but…I _couldn’t_. The more outrageous the things they tried, the less it worked. That’s never happened before.”

 He looked absolutely vulnerable in that moment, and I hugged him to me. _Admitting to impotence? It’s even worse than I thought._

 I kissed Zevran’s forehead, nose wrinkling at the smell of ale. He curled into my shoulder, for the first time ever not even trying anything inappropriate, and I felt a tear drop onto my hand. A couple of tears of sympathy escaped from my eyes as well, and I hugged him closer, stroking his hair.

 I cleared my throat and tried to lighten the mood with a bit of humour. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Your reputation will remain untarnished.”

 He choked out a laugh that was half-sob, pulling away and wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Why did you come, Sierra, if not to lecture me?”

 “To bring you back, Zevran. Aedan has a lot of apologising to do, and maybe you won’t forgive him, but we want you to stay, if you’re willing. All of us. Please, Zev, come home?”

 He examined my face for a moment. “Does he know you’re here?”

 “Not _here_ , specifically…but he knows we’re looking for you. He begged me to bring you back. Zev…he needs you. And so do I. I could never have made it this far without you. And you’re Aedan’s other half, his perfect compliment. I’m sorry it took my brother’s idiocy for me to tell you how much I love you.”

 The door to the room opened, and Leli and Alistair entered. The bard sat on Zevran’s other side, and Alistair leaned back against the wall in front of him.

 “The whole group relies on you, Zevran. We need your blades as well as your humour, yes? You are important to all of us.” Leli gave the assassin a hug, and I smiled gratefully at her.

 Alistair cleared his throat. “I admit I wouldn’t have let you live if not for Sierra, but…I’d have been wrong, Zevran. You’re one of us, and we need you. Please? Come home.” He held his hand out to Zev, and the elf looked up at him skeptically. Alistair sighed and left his hand extended, and slowly, as though expecting a prank, Zevran gripped it with his own.

 “I did leave my things back at the estate…it would be a shame to leave them behind.” Zevran looked down at himself and grimaced. “Especially as it would appear that I need a change of clothes.”

 “And a bath.” I giggled, and the assassin shot me a small smile.

 Leliana reached into a small pack I hadn’t noticed and handed Zevran a small healing potion. “It won’t prevent the hangover, but it might get you back to the estate on your own two feet, at least.”

 He nodded thankfully and drank; his eyes cleared a little and he sat up a bit straighter. “You’re… sure?”

 It hurt to see him so uncertain. I nodded decisively. “I am. Even if I didn’t think Aedan loved you, your place is with us, Zevran. Come home.”

 “Home? What a strange concept.” He rubbed his face, then began buttoning up his shirt. “Home, then.”

 


	99. Protest

Chapter Ninety-Nine: Protest

 

The trip back to the estate took longer, though at least I wasn’t as grim as I’d been on the way. We took turns half-leading, half-carrying Zevran, but I was just grateful he’d come back with us. I almost hoped Zev would make Aedan beg and crawl for a while before taking him back…until I remembered what they were supposed to be doing the following day. I wasn’t sure Aedan would be able to pull off infiltrating Howe’s estate without Zevran, especially if he was in as bad a mental state as I expected him to be.

 Zev finally sagged into unconsciousness; Alistair carried him the last hundred feet to the estate, and we went straight to the barracks, putting the unconscious elf in the bunk he’d been assigned but not used since we’d arrived. I’d insisted Leli and Alistair promise not to tell Aedan where we’d found Zevran and what he’d been doing; there was going to be enough drama over the next few days without Aedan finding out those details.

 I went to tell Aedan we’d found the Antivan; as much as the idiot deserved a bit of misery, I couldn’t leave him worrying all night.

 “He’s in his bunk in the barracks, Aedan. And I expect you to leave him alone there until he comes to you; he needs some rest. If we’re lucky, he’ll agree to go with you tomorrow. If not, you need to be prepared to go without him.”

 “I want to see him.” Aedan looked like hell warmed over, and my irritation with him faded just a little.

 “Maybe he doesn’t want to see you? Leave him be. At least until the morning. And I’d suggest a public apology when he wakes up.” He nodded. “I’m going for supper. I hope the cook still has something left for us. You coming?”

 He shook his head miserably. I took pity on him and kissed his cheek. “Don’t screw it up tomorrow, okay?”

 I had a quick supper with Leli and Alistair, everyone else having eaten earlier. Afterwards I couldn’t justify sending Alistair to bed alone; I was still a little emotional, and I needed my husband. We went to bed early, not even bothering with the fiction of separate rooms. We spent a couple of hours just cuddling and kissing and talking, before we made love and fell asleep entangled.

 I left in the morning only to get clean clothes out of my room; I had no doubt that, by now, the servants had caught on to the fact that we were sleeping together, and by extension, I was sure Erlina knew. I could only hope no one had realised that we were married; the fact that wedding rings weren’t a Fereldan custom helped, because both of us had tan lines around our rings that would have been obvious on Earth.

 When we went to the dining room, Zevran was seated, chatting animatedly with Teagan like nothing had happened; I wondered if it was just the sleep, his innate metabolism, or if Wynne had given him a potion, but he didn’t look hungover at all. Aedan hadn’t arrived yet, but he came in just behind Alistair and I, and I wondered if it was on purpose.

 Hands shaking, Aedan ignored the onlookers and approached Zevran; the elf took one look at his face and stood, stepping out into the hallway. He turned back once to see if Aedan was following him; Aedan, whose face was crestfallen when Zevran walked away, rushed to catch up. By unspoken consent, we all stayed at one end of the hallway while the two men headed to the other end; they were far enough away that we couldn’t hear what was said, though we could still see.

 Aedan reached out and took one of Zevran’s hands before kneeling in front of him in supplication. Words were exchanged; Aedan shed tears, Zevran pulled away, the conversation became more animated, and finally Aedan stood and pulled the elf to him and kissed him savagely. Zevran responded in kind. There was so much raw pain in the kiss I had to look away; I curled into Alistair’s chest, noticing he was also conspicuously not watching.

 I looked back just in time to see Zevran wrench himself out of the kiss angrily. They spoke again for a few moments, and then Aedan nodded as Zevran turned and walked away. I rolled my eyes; _yet another man trying to make up for stupid mistakes with kissing. At least he didn’t try fellatio in the library…_

 Aedan returned and we ate an awkward breakfast together. No one spoke, everyone darting quick, worried looks in my brother’s direction before looking away again, embarrassed. Finally finished, he confirmed that he would be taking Zevran, Leliana, Wulf, and Anders with him; the rest of our companions would be going with Eamon and Duncan to the Palace. Our distraction was planned for noon; Aedan hoped to be back at Eamon’s estate for supper, Anora in tow.

 I worried about what would happen; I didn’t want Aedan to end up in Fort Drakon, even though I knew he could get out if he needed to. He’d swallowed a specially prepared lockpick, as well as had one braided into his hair and another tucked inside his cheek, just in case. We’d also made a plan for Alistair and Jowan to break him out if he wasn’t back by nightfall – Leli had somehow acquired a set of uniforms for the Fort Drakon guard, and they were the only two who would fit.

 Despite our preparations, I worried. The game faded to black when the Wardens were captured – _had they been beaten? Tortured? Raped?_ – and I couldn’t help but obsess over those possibilities. And that was without worrying what would happen at Howe’s. We would have enough manpower at the Palace, between the soldiers of the nobles involved, the rest of the Wardens and our companions, that Loghain’s options would be limited; Aedan would only have himself plus three other rogues and a healer.

 I tried not to be sick as I put on my armour. _Red, the colour of blood,_ I decided morbidly.

 I gave Aedan one last desperate hug, before turning and hiding my concern. Zevran approached me and offered me a hug as well; I clung to him, whispering “Stay safe, and bring him home, okay?” and the assassin nodded.

 “I won’t get the chance to make him squirm, if I don’t, yes?”

 I giggled despite my worry and kissed Zevran’s cheek in appreciation.

 The rest of our group – Eamon, Teagan, Alistair, Duncan, Theron, as well as our companions, sixteen of us in all – formed up with the identifiable targets in the middle, joined up with the group of soldiers accompanying us, and headed towards the Palace.

 I couldn’t help but worry it would be the last time I saw Aedan. I put that thought out of my head as fast as I was able. Their plan was solid; they’d take out a couple of guards on the grounds with coma-inducing poisons, Leli would fire poisoned arrows at those on the ramparts, and then with the aid of a kind of cross-bow equipped with a grappling hook instead of a bolt – one of Zevran’s acquisitions – they would scale the ramparts. They’d sneak through the place as much as possible, disabling rather than killing the guards; Leliana had stolen a guard uniform the day before, slipping into the kitchen and poisoning some of the food with something that would incapacitate even more of the guards.

 Once done, they’d confront Howe, kill the mage barricading Anora’s door, and escape. I worried about Aedan seeing Howe, as well; I had real concerns that he would lose his head and go berserk, putting himself at risk. I hoped Zevran had his head in the game enough to catch Aedan and pull him back from the brink as he so frequently had before.

 I shook my head, trying to bury the worries; I could do nothing to improve the situation, and I was going to need my wits about me at the Palace. I tried to focus on our surroundings, watching for danger at every cross street. Alistair caught my eye at one point and shot me a sympathetic look; I tried to smile reassuringly, and then looked away before I could start worrying again.

 The Palace gates had dozens of people standing around it; I caught sight of Alfstanna, and a man with strawberry-blond, long hair who I assumed to be Arl Bryland. Both were surrounded by a sea of guards who parted to allow Eamon, Teagan, Alistair, and Duncan through. The rest of us tried to stay with them, but had to settle for being distributed throughout the crowd of armed men at the gates. I couldn’t get close enough to hear, but the nobles spoke with a smartly-dressed guard, who apparently called for another to come over; after a few minutes, a third arrived. The third guard was wearing a more elaborate uniform than the first two, and I assumed he was a captain. He left after a few minutes of tense discussion; Duncan had had to come forward, and it increased my anxiety to know that now Loghain knew exactly who was at his gate.

 More guards poured out of the Palace, though we still had them greatly outnumbered; soon a tall, dark-haired, severe-looking woman in shining armour pushed her way through. _Ser Cauthrien_. I almost cheered. She began ordering the guards to form up ranks, then spoke with Eamon for a while. She was visibly agitated when she caught sight of Duncan, and I wondered how much was guilt and how much rationalised anger. _I’m curious if she’s been able to convince herself that she did the right thing, calling the retreat at Ostagar, or if she knows she left the King to die._

 I noticed that Theron had managed to situate himself close to the group of nobles; I only hoped he’d be able to keep his temper regardless of what might be said. I slowly inched towards the centre of the group, and noticed the others doing the same.

 After probably half an hour of intermittent discussion between Ser Cauthrien and the two Arls and two Banns, there was a disturbance at behind the forces lined up on the opposite side of the gate. A gap was made, and through it walked Teyrn Loghain MacTir himself.

 I had never been a fan of Loghain in the game; regardless of his intentions at Ostagar, he’d tried to kill the Grey Wardens, seize the throne, start a civil war, allow any nobles who could stand against him to be killed or poisoned, and tried to sell elves as slaves. He was nothing that Ferelden stood for, in my experience; not anymore. I had read the book about him as a young man during the rebellion; I could not reconcile that Loghain with the man who stood before me.

 I knew some people found him attractive; I didn’t really get it. His face was all angles, sharp and severe, and his hair was braided in a fashion that I found didn’t suit him. His expression was haughty, and I wondered if the young man from the novels would even recognise himself as an adult. There was more than a passing resemblance between him and Cauthrien, actually, and I began wondering if the speculation I’d seen of the forums that he was her father was true.

 Cauthrien walked up to him before he reached the gate; they talked for a few minutes, while Loghain’s eyes roved the crowd in front of the gates. He scowled at Eamon and the other nobles, even more so at Alistair; he looked practically apoplectic when he saw Duncan. I nonchalantly inched even closer, hoping to hear what he would say; unfortunately, so did the rest of the crowd, so it didn’t help much.

 Finally Loghain approached the gates, voice pitched low enough that I couldn’t hear it over the clanking and shifting of the armoured men around me. Eamon replied, and soon Alfstanna, Teagan, and Leonas were all interjecting. Duncan and Alistair stayed quiet, watching, though I saw Alistair’s face redden as he tried to hold his temper.

 There was a flash of movement in my peripheral vision, and I turned in time to see an unfamiliar man collapse on the other side of the crowd; blood sprayed out and some of it caught Loghain across the face, which was almost funny until I saw Faren and Bel drag the man into the small clearing near Eamon and throw him down.

 “An assassin,” asserted Faren, loud enough that everyone could hear him, and I looked at the human on his belly. He had dark hair, was in fact entirely non-descript, and wearing armour without markings, but on second glance, his armour was a lot nicer than most of the soldiers around us, and a wicked-looking barbed dagger – probably poisoned – had been knocked from his hand to land on the ground at Loghain’s feet. “Stupid, too – he assumed no one would notice the knife if he held it down below the waist.” The dwarf hauled him to his knees, ignoring the pool of blood slowly spreading at his feet.

 I could see an entirely inappropriate joke about dwarven height being hilarious later, but at that moment all I could feel was fury. I wondered who the dagger had been meant for. _Duncan? Eamon? Alistair? So many targets, so little time._

 “One of yours, Loghain? And you wonder why the Landsmeet is in no hurry to hand you the throne.” Eamon looked smug, and it occurred to me he might have been hoping for just such an event – as long as it hadn’t succeeded, of course. He spoke loudly enough for his voice to carry over the entire crowd.

 “I’ve never seen this man before,” Loghain declared, expression offended. But I thought his eyes lingered a little too long on the bowed head to be entirely believable. Cauthrien blanched, looking between Loghain and the would-be assassin in shock. _Not so good at hiding her expressions, that one._ The prisoner himself just looked resigned, avoiding making eye contact with anyone. It didn’t take much to guess it had been a suicide mission.

 Eamon gestured at the man. “Senior Enchanter Wynne, if you would? This man will be taken back to my estate for questioning.”

 The elderly mage stepped forward, but before she could even start casting, the captured assassin began to convulse, flopping forward onto his face, blood and foam running out of his mouth. Wynne knelt, and began one of her diagnostic scans; her face twisted in an unpleasant scowl.

 “Poison, your Grace. Lethal. He must have cut himself with his dagger.” She gestured to one outflung arm with its own small pool of blood. “I’m sorry; there’s nothing I can do.” She stood, dusting off her robes, and melted back into the crowd. After a few horrifying minutes, the assassin stopped thrashing, now just a shell covered in blood and excrement.

 Eamon spoke, ignoring the corpse at his feet. “Well, _Teyrn_ Loghain,” his voice was dripping with scorn, “unless you’d like us to wait while you arrange another assassination attempt, we demand to speak to Anora, the Dowager Queen of Ferelden.”

 I winced; calling Anora the ‘dowager’ – which was tantamount to declaring her rulership entirely illegitimate – in front of Loghain was carefully calculated to infuriate the man, and it worked. Loghain’s face reddened with anger, his mouth working silently as though he was too furious to speak. The silent gasps of almost everyone in the vicinity – on both sides of the gate – would be obvious even without sound.

 Eamon carried on. “As her regent, it is your duty to produce her when requested by the Landsmeet. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s not here already; in fact no one has seen her in weeks.”

 He gestured grandly, looking around, catching the eye not only of Cauthrien, but also the nearest guards on the opposite side of the gate. “Teyrn Loghain, where is your daughter?”

 Loghain sputtered and mumbled something, making it obvious he didn’t have a good answer to the question; picking up on his discomfort, the other nobles began asking their own questions, followed by shouting as the soldiers around got into it as well. Soon the noise was thunderous, only the odd word – Queen, or Anora mostly – intelligible. Loghain’s face flushed, and he stepped back from the gate; if there was any reasonable response, no one heard it.

 Ser Cauthrien spoke excitedly to Loghain for a few moments, gesticulating wildly; I didn’t fail to see her pointing at the corpse of the would-be assassin at least once. Loghain shook his head, answering her with his hands raised in a ‘calm down’ gesture, and finally, reluctantly, she turned. He grabbed her arm, said something that looked harsh in her ear, and her shoulders slumped.

 When Loghain released her, Cauthrien shouted to the guards formed up on their side of the gate, pulling them to attention; whatever she shouted must have been a command of some sort, because as one, they drew their weapons and readied their shields. Suddenly on the walls above us, a bunch of archers with arrows nocked leaned over the crenellations.

 Loghain roared, loud enough to silence the shouting of the crowd, and everyone turned their eyes to his angry face.

 “That’s enough! This gathering is unlawful. I suggest you all return to your estates before I instruct the archers to fire.”

 “We will have a Landsmeet, Loghain! You cannot stop us. And then we shall see who is giving the orders.” Alfstanna looked livid, her face an ugly almost-purple, as she openly threatened Loghain. Finally, with a lot more grumbling, each of the nobles counted off a handful of soldiers to remain watching the gates, and report back if anything happened, and the rest of us turned and shuffled off the way we’d come.

 Eamon and Teagan bid goodbye to Alfstanna and Leonas as they peeled off to head to their own estates, and we finally arrived back at Eamon’s estate probably three hours after we’d left. I only hoped it was enough time for whatever Aedan was up to. Once we hit the library, I collapsed into the first chair I saw, emotionally more than physically exhausted.

 The rest of the group, minus the soldiers, who scattered back to the barracks, took seats around me, everyone looking as wrung out as I felt. Eamon looked slightly pale, and excused himself to go help the Arlessa pack – she was leaving with Connor the next morning. I closed my eyes, contemplating sleeping right where I sat.

 “Did you see the look on Ser Cauthrien’s face when she saw who that assassin was?” Alistair sounded incredulous. “She could use some acting lessons.”

 I snickered.

 Teagan sighed. “Undoubtedly confirmation that he was one of Loghain’s. Poor bastard.”

 “You feel sorry for _him_?” I opened one eye to peer at Teagan skeptically.

 “Well, it’s not like it would have been his idea,” Teagan replied defensively. “And anyway, it was a suicide mission – either Loghain was blackmailing him somehow, or he was bought with promises – freedom for his family, perhaps? But he had to die in the attempt so he couldn’t be questioned. Did you see the corpse? Whatever that poison was, it dried him up like a giant raisin. If he’d poisoned himself a minute earlier, Cauthrien wouldn’t have been able to recognise him.”

 “I feel like it can only be a good thing that Cauthrien saw the lengths Loghain was willing to go to, that she knows the assassin was one of his.” Jowan looked nervous, until everyone nodded and he visibly relaxed. “You said that, by the Landsmeet, she can be reasoned with, at least a little, right? That should help.”

 I nodded, smiling at the blood mage, and then closed my eyes again.

 “Watching Loghain gape like a fish when the Arl demanded he produce the ‘dowager queen’ was pretty amusing,” Faren laughed. “I can see that rumour getting around – the regent and general of the armies has no idea where the queen is? Perfect.”

 Theron, the only one still wearing his full helmet, gestured and Bel stood to close the door to the library. He pulled off his helmet and grimaced. “I admit I was sort of hoping you were wrong about where Anora was, Sierra.” He ran his fingers through his long blond hair sheepishly. “But I’d say there’s no question she’s out of Loghain’s grasp, and he wasn’t happy about it.”

 “Let’s just hope that Aedan and the others accomplished their goal.” Duncan was practically glowering.

 “I’m impressed you kept your temper, Duncan,” Teagan responded. “Not that it was unexpected, but I rather worried that when he accused you of killing Cailan to escape, you’d try to kill him instead.”

 “I have bigger plans for him than a simple death at the end of my sword.” His tone was incredibly bitter. “Especially when that would have been followed quickly by my own demise. Loghain will get what is coming to him.”

 “Karma’s a bitch,” I muttered.

 “Karma?” Alistair asked.

 We proceeded to change the subject to an in-depth discussion of non-Christian Earth religions; I didn’t know that much, but even the concept of reincarnation was highly inflammatory to some of the group, and the lively debate succeeded at keeping me distracted from my worries for a while longer: _where is Aedan?_

 After the discussion died down, I excused myself and headed to the room I shared with Solona. The others scattered to their respective spaces, and I wondered if everyone was simply tired or if they were fretting as much as I was. Solona accompanied me, looking almost as nervous as I felt; it occurred to me that Anders was in danger, too. I decided girl talk was as likely to be distracting as the rest I’d probably not get if I tried to sleep, so I sat on the bed with my back to the headboard.

 “So how are things with Anders, anyway?”

 She blushed prettily, sitting beside me carefully. “I don’t…know.” She shrugged. “Your advice – I’m guessing – to just be there and try to be a silent helper until I let him back in…it’s working, sort of. I’m not as angry every time I see him, anyway.”

 “When he got injured in that darkspawn ambush, you looked not at all angry, and a lot like some other emotion.”

 She wrung her hands. “Of course. It’s not like I just stopped caring about him. But…I don’t know. How long am I supposed to be angry? Even if I’m not angry, who’s to say it will even work out?”

 “I’ll tell you what Zev told me – what I’ll probably have to remind him of, later. There’s not a standard amount of harshness in these sorts of situations. All you can do is what you can live with for right now.” I contemplated my answer, but it felt incomplete. “But I have to ask – even if it never works out for the two of you, even if you can’t get over your history together…would you be able to live with yourself knowing you didn’t even try?”

 Her stricken expression answered my question better than anything she could have said. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she turned towards me, letting a tear fall down one milky-white cheek. “I don’t even know how to start. How do I trust him again?”

 I squeezed her shoulder softly. “I’ve no idea. But maybe that’s not the way to begin? Clean slates don’t exist. He’s going to have to earn it. But he can’t, if you never give him the chance.”

 She nodded and wiped the tear angrily before it dripped off her chin. “What do you suggest?”

 I thought about it. “What about…a date?”

 “What date?” Solona looked confused.

 I grinned. “Dating is something people do on Earth. Two unattached people going out together, doing something, preferably romantic, alone. Like a romantic dinner and then a couple of drinks. Or stargazing. Or…I don’t even know. Thedas is a bit of a mystery to me. But spending some time together without everyone else around can’t help but be a good thing, right?”

 “A date,” she muttered. “Your Earth terminology is…”

 “Weird? Yeah. But anyway, think about it.”

 “Assuming he makes it back in one piece.”

 “Yes, that.”

 “I’ll consider it.”

 Solona curled up on her side, I assumed to go to sleep – or at least rest, instead of talking – but I was still in full armour. I was interrupted as I contemplated changing and doing the same by a knock on our door.

 “My Lady?” came the voice of one of the servants I’d met earlier, “Bann Teagan has requested your presence in the main hall. Her Majesty Queen Anora has arrived.”


	100. Gone Awry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 100! Finally!
> 
> In celebration of this milestone, anyone who reviews this week can ask a question - of myself or any of the characters, and I will answer in the next chapter's author's notes at the end. I will even give spoilers - so be sure you want to know before you ask!

Chapter One Hundred: Gone awry

 

Both Solona and I were on our feet in seconds, charging out the door to catch the servant, but he was gone. Alistair’s door ripped open just as I hit the hallway, and wordlessly he held out his hand, which I clutched briefly. Solona didn’t even slow as she silently raced down the hallway ahead of me. Alistair and I chased her, careening into the main hall a moment later.

 There was a crowd of people gathered in the hall, and we had to practically climb over our companions to reach the front. One quick look confirmed that Anora was alone; there was no sign of my brother or any of the others he took with him. Eamon wasn’t there, though Teagan stood glaring at the woman with his arms crossed on his chest. Theron, in his full helm, stood to one side. Duncan was nowhere to be seen; we had decided we’d wait and see if Anora knew about him before letting her see him.

 Anora wore a poor-fitting guard uniform with what I assumed was the Arl of Denerim’s coat of arms – green and white with a many-pointed star – on the front. She had a bit of hat hair, her braids rumpled with individual hairs sticking out, and she had apparently dropped her helm on the floor when no one offered to take it from her. Despite that, she looked somehow haughty and regal, her shoulders back, drawn up to her full height, her nose ever so slightly in the air as though she smelled something bad.

 I didn’t hear what was being said as I charged up; when Alistair and I reached her, everyone else seemed to stop and hold their breath. I thought Teagan might take charge, but he looked livid, and I doubted he’d be able to speak without breathing fire. No one else seemed to know exactly what to say either, and finally Alistair bowed slightly, the way Duncan often did, and cleared his throat.

 “Your Majesty,” his voice was remarkably calm, and I eyed him in surprise, “where is the Warden? Where are those who rescued you?”

 Theron shifted as Anora’s cheeks coloured slightly, whether in anger or embarrassment I couldn’t tell.

 “Still at Howe’s estate, I imagine. But I doubt this is the appropriate place for this discussion, wouldn’t you say?”

 Alistair’s jaw clenched, but he stayed calm. “Of course, your Majesty. Theron, Sierra, with me. Bann Teagan, could you get Arl Eamon and meet us in his study?” Teagan nodded, and slipped away. “This way, if you please,” Alistair continued, and it was my turn to clench my teeth as he offered her his arm. “I’d appreciate you telling us what has happened before you go get cleaned up, if you don’t mind, your Majesty.”

 She murmured something that must have been agreement, and Theron and I, in full armour, followed them to Eamon’s study.

 We’d decided that Alistair should try to appear confident and in-control around Anora, to see how she would respond to a competent-seeming rival for the throne. Aedan would step back and allow it to seem that Alistair was the one calling all the shots. I knew that, knew he had to act the statesman and host, but I wanted to slap those stupid buns right off her head when she placed her hand on Alistair’s offered arm, never mind wanting to torture her until she told me what happened to my brother.

 In the study, Alistair ushered Anora to a chair, pulled out a second for me, and then sat behind the big desk, trying not to blush while she studied him. Theron went to stand behind Alistair, helmet still securely in place.

 “Introductions, then, while we wait for the Arl. I am-“

 “Alistair Theirin, yes I can see that. My father mentioned you were a Grey Warden at Ostagar, and certainly the resemblance to my late husband makes it…obvious that you are Maric’s son.”

 “Yes. And this is Lady Sierra Cousland.”

 Anora raised her eyebrows daintily. “Cousland? Are you a cousin, then, perhaps?”

 We’d worked out a cover story on our way to Denerim. “No, your Majesty.” I consciously kept the rising anger out of my voice. “I am the daughter of the late Teyrn and Teyrna. I was raised away from Highever, and encountered my brother by accident after Ostagar.”

 Her expression was hard to read, but skeptical seemed likely. “Raised away from Highever? Where? The Couslands always opposed fostering their children. Why would they do that?”

 “Somewhere remote and safe, your Majesty. I’d rather not say, as it would put those who raised me at risk. As for why – I don’t know, and I’m afraid asking them now will be difficult.”

 She pressed her lips together, obviously not convinced but unable to continue questioning me without appearing rude. “I am sorry-“

 She was interrupted in what I assumed was a platitude for the death of my parents by the entrance of Eamon and Teagan. Eamon bowed, Teagan glowered, and I almost laughed. Teagan went to stand by Theron, while Eamon pulled up another chair. I watched Anora’s expression turn thoughtful as she noticed Alistair neither stand when Eamon entered, nor give up his seat behind the desk.

 “I hope we didn’t miss anything?”

 “Just introductions, your Grace.”

 “Oh good, so you’ve met Lady Cousland, your Majesty.” To his credit, Eamon managed to keep his usual irritated expression off his face when he looked at me.

 Anora nodded. “Indeed. I would like to hear more about your upbringing sometime, Lady Cousland.”

 “If you like, your Majesty.” Bowing my head in assent, trying to look agreeable, took significant willpower.

 Alistair saved me from having to say more. “I hope you don’t mind if we wait for those sorts of pleasantries, your Majesty. Please, tell us what happened when Warden Aedan rescued you?”

 “I don’t know what happened before they reached my door, though they were covered in blood. We tried to leave, but we were ambushed. I slipped out during the fighting – no one stopped me in this disguise – and came straight here, as Aedan had informed me where he was staying. I don’t know much else. I had to sneak here – I left there probably two hours ago now.”

 I felt my heart drop; it had been expected, but I had hoped they could have avoided it. “Who were they fighting? Your Majesty,” I added the honorific as a second thought when she turned a frosty gaze my way.

 “I do not know. No one I recognised.”

 “Ser Cauthrien wasn’t there?”

 “As I said, no one I recognised. I imagine Ser Cauthrien is at the palace with my father.”

 I tried to hide my sigh of relief; Alistair and I shared a relieved look. Alistair was opening his mouth to ask more questions when a servant rushed into the room.

 “Your Grace, your Majesty,” the servant practically stuttered, his movements jerky as he appeared to be trying to choose between bowing and kneeling, “the Warden has returned. They are in the main hall.” His face was pale, and I’d have thought it was just nerves, but he caught my eye with a barely perceptible grimace.

 I didn’t wait; I scrambled to my feet and ran down the hallway, back the way we’d come.

 The first person I saw was Anders, alive, but looking…grey. He had a bulky bandage around one arm, and it was soaked through with blood. He was slumped against the wall, clinging to his staff like it was a walking stick, and I thought he might vomit if anyone jiggled him. Solona seemed to have no such concern as she barrelled into him from a side passage, tossing her arms around his neck. I saw surprise on his face, followed by relief; then he buried his face in her pale hair, releasing his staff to pull her closer. He slid down the wall, still holding her, and she followed him down.

 A jumble of people obscured my view of the rest of the room, but Alistair cleared a path like an arctic icebreaker, pulling me behind in his wake. I reached the front of the crowd just in time to see my brother, evidently unconscious, being lowered to the floor. I glanced at the others who had accompanied him, to see Leliana looking tired, dried blood streaked from a new barely-healed scar on her forehead; Zevran held Aedan’s head in his lap, and an unfamiliar raven-haired man with his back to me was helping to lower my brother to the floor. The man had greasy hair tied back with a leather thong, and his clothes were dirty and unkempt, one step from the rag bag. He had scruffy facial hair, not long, but not well-kempt either. Wulf was glowering in the back with another newcomer – an absolutely filthy female elf, wearing mismatched armour and gripping the former werewolf’s arm tightly.

 The dark-haired man looked up at the commotion, and I gasped, windmilling my arms as I screeched to a halt; I’d have fallen, if not for Alistair catching me and setting me back on my feet.

 “Nathaniel? Nathaniel Howe?” I couldn’t have mistaken that face no matter how much facial hair it hid behind.

 He glanced at me, face drawn in confusion; I didn’t have time to dwell on it when I noticed a steady trickle of blood coming out of my brother’s mouth. I shouted for Wynne and heard a soft reply; while the healer worked her way through the crowd, I threw myself to the ground beside him, grabbing one limp hand and putting my other hand on Zev’s shoulder. I looked over at Anders.

 “What happened? Why didn’t you heal him?”

 “Magebane,” the mage croaked, gesturing to his bandaged shoulder. He looked completely spent. “One of them got me, and must have coated his blade with it. I don’t even have a scrap of mana.” Solona swore and started pulling at the bandages, her aura flaring as she prepared to pour healing into him. “I’m fine, love. And you’re not much of a healer. I never thought I’d say this, but it’s lucky I spent so long in solitary on magebane, otherwise I probably would have had to be carried back too.”

 Wynne reached us and sank to her knees beside me, her blue diagnostic scan already running over Aedan’s battered body. She clucked in disapproval. “I’m going to try to stabilise him, but then I’m going to need,” she glanced at Anders and shook her head, “Jowan, and Morrigan, and a lot of Lyrium. And somewhere to work.”

 All three dwarves rushed off to find the necessary people, and Sten stepped forward. “I will carry him once he’s stabilised.” He nodded to Wynne, who was already weaving healing spells and laying them across Aedan’s comatose body. When she drew back, the big man took Aedan into his arms bridal style, far more gently than I’d have thought him capable of, and he headed to Aedan’s room.

 Zevran helped Wynne up, and I stood.

 Alistair clapped his hands loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone please, we will meet in the library in two hours to update you. For now, please take care of yourselves, get cleaned up, while we get Aedan healed.”

 I didn’t wait for him to finish talking, already turning to follow Sten towards Aedan’s room; I heard steps behind me, and I glanced back to see a dejected-looking Zevran, Theron, Teagan, and on Alistair’s arm again, Anora. I reached back and took Zevran’s hand, pulling him to walk beside me.

 “What happened?”

 The assassin spared one dirty look for Anora, then turned back. “We were betrayed, ambushed. We fought. But with Anders unable to heal…Aedan was amazing. Everywhere all at once; I’d never seen him dance like that, yes?” I nodded encouragement. “But he jumped in front of a blow meant for me. A large man with a very wicked maul. It should have been me.” His expression was heartbreaking, and a tear actually escaped one eye. He wiped at it angrily. “And the last words I said to him were in anger. I am sorry, cara mia. I failed to keep my promise, to keep him safe.”

 “No, Zev.” I stopped and pulled the elf into a tight hug; he stiffened at first, but then relaxed and hugged me back. “He’s going to live, and those won’t be your last words to him. And I know whose fault it is,” I wasn’t going to be able to avoid glaring at Anora, so I closed my eyes instead, “and it isn’t yours. Let’s not lose sight of who is really to blame.”

 It was an unsubtle warning, and I felt Zevran squeeze in acknowledgement. I didn’t trust anyone else to watch Anora as closely as he could. As he would, especially now that Aedan had been injured. The two would still have some things to work out, but it struck me that it would probably be a little easier for Zevran to forgive, after watching Aedan nearly die. _I wonder if that would have helped me with Alistair?_

 “Howe’s dead, though, right?”

 “Yes.” His vicious tone surprised me; the man was despicable, but I wondered what set Zevran off. “Later, bella donna.”

 Holding Zev’s hand, I went through the door to Aedan’s room to see Sten carefully settle the lifeless-appearing body of my brother on the bed. The blood flow out of his mouth had stopped, but he looked pale, and his breaths were shallow and fast. Sten left us there, and Zevran and I stripped off as much of Aedan’s drake scale armour as we could just as Wynne, Jowan, and Morrigan came bustling in, all carrying Lyrium potions. Aedan’s armour was dented, but there was almost no blood; evidently, all of his injuries were internal. That didn’t strike me as a good thing.

 Alistair, Teagan, and Anora took up positions against the far wall while Theron played the act of a guard at the door, and I pushed Zevran to sit on the side of the bed, resting my hand on his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.

 “You know the drill,” Wynne said, and Morrigan and Jowan nodded. “I’ll direct the flows. Use Lyrium when you need it.” She turned to the rest of us. “Be quiet until we’re done, or get out.”

 Everyone nodded, and they began. It was interesting, being able to watch the process a little bit more objectively than when I’d been the subject. Wynne’s aura flared, and then Morrigan’s, and then the two weaved together; Jowan was last, his a familiar greasy sensation to my templar senses, and the three auras melded together seamlessly. It seemed that magic was multiplicative, not additive – the three together had an aura much larger than the three single auras added together would have accounted for. I glanced at Alistair, whose face was scrunched up in discomfort; I imagined my expression was similar. It felt like there was so much magic gathered, just roiling expectantly around in the air, that I almost thought the roof would blow off.

 And then it changed, and Wynne began healing. Unlike with my knee, nothing was visible, so we waited with bated breath, unable to assess how well it was working. Each of the three mages took a Lyrium potion, and then a second, and the healing dragged on. Aedan’s breathing caught, and then eased, and his complexion slowly returned to a pale normal instead of the sickly grey he’d been.

 The auras finally collapsed, and with collective breaths of relief, the three mages sagged. I looked to Wynne, who sank onto the bed on the opposite side from Zevran. “He will be fine, I think.” She sighed. “He’s going to need some time – his kidneys were damaged, and there are a lot of toxins to clear. When Anders recovers, we’ll need to do more healing. His spine…” She glanced up at my face, which must have looked completely panicked. _His spine? What if he’s broken it? What if he never walks again?_ Wynne put her hand out towards me. “He’ll be fine, Sierra. But his recovery will take a little while.”

 I nodded, tears of fear and relief slowly rolling down my face. I leaned down and kissed Aedan’s forehead, and then turned and did the same to a stricken-looking Zevran.

 Alistair cleared his throat. “We need to have a meeting.” He made eye contact with me, and then Zevran. “We need you there, Zev.”

 The assassin looked about to shake his head, but Wynne leaned across and touched his arm softly. “I will take care of him. He will not wake until you return, I promise.”

 He reluctantly nodded, stood, and faced Alistair. “As you say, your Majesty.” No one failed to notice he addressed this to Alistair, not Anora, and her pretty face flushed with anger. “If it pleases you, may I have ten minutes to wash up first?”

 Alistair didn’t comment about the honourific, but his lips twitched, trying to hide a smirk. “You have an hour, actually. Meet me in the library then.”

 Zevran nodded and slipped out, and Alistair turned to Anora. “Would you like some time to get cleaned up as well, your Majesty? Erlina has already prepared you a room.”

 She swept out of the room on Alistair’s arm, and I had to restrain myself from clawing that smug, self-satisfied expression off her stupid noble face. Alistair looked back once, his gaze understanding, and winked at me. Teagan and Theron followed. I sighed and sat across from Wynne.

 “So that was…bad,” I ventured. She looked like she was about to deny it, but I interrupted her. “Templar, remember? I could feel the magic. He doesn’t have my resistance, and you still almost weren’t successful, were you?”

 She shook her head. “You are too perceptive by half, sometimes, for someone usually so oblivious.” Her smile was fond, and I chuckled. “That would have been easier with Anders, undoubtedly, but yes – it was a close thing. He was very near death when they came through that door.”

 “I think I understand a little why he gets so uptight when I fight.” The healer and I shared grins, and then I sighed again. “At least he didn’t end up in Fort Drakon. Thank Go- the Maker that Cauthrien was busy at the palace.”

 “Would one woman really have made such a difference?”

 “She’s…well, in the game, she was one of the hardest enemies to fight. Not Archdemon-bad, obviously, but probably the worst before that point. And she had a bunch of friends with her, to boot. I heard rumours you could defeat her, if you were very clever and well-armed and exceptionally good, but I sure never managed.”

 “Then I’m glad the plan worked.”

 “Me too. Listen, should I go get some water and things? We should clean him up, don’t you think?”

 “I will do it, child. But if you could send a servant for water and soap I’d appreciate it. You should go change out of your armour before the meeting.”

 I sighed, squeezing Aedan’s hand before standing. “Send for us right away if anything changes?”

 “I promise, dear.”

 I walked around the bed and bent down to kiss Wynne’s cheek. “Thanks, mom.”

 An hour later, wearing a dress – one of my nicer ones, a grey silk Leliana had purchased somewhere along the way – I was waiting for everyone else in the library. Alistair was there, and I wanted so badly to crawl into his arms, but I restrained myself. Anora sat regally beside him, and Eamon and Teagan sat on his other side. Theron played guard at the door again. One after the other, our companions trickled in.

 Wulf came, with the elven woman, now clean and wearing some of the extra Warden armour, still clinging to his arm. She was beautiful, I realised, when she wasn’t covered in filth; she had short, pixie-cut auburn hair and startlingly green eyes. But she twitched any time any of the humans spoke, and nearly jumped out of her skin if anyone near her moved; I wondered who she was and what had happened to her. _Though considering she was obviously at Howe’s estate, maybe I don’t want to know._

 Solona and Anders came in, not quite touching but clearly together, and I wondered if the events had moved their budding reconciliation along. His arm was no longer bandaged, but his shirt covered the area so I couldn’t see a wound or a scar. He didn’t look quite as green, and I could feel his magic, weak but present – the magebane was wearing off. Jowan and Morrigan followed them, and the dwarves came in next, finding seats away from the nobles at the front. Sten glowered silently from the back of the room, one of the few still in armour, with Asala strapped to his back.

 Leliana and Zevran were the last two to arrive, escorting a pale, far-too-thin Nathaniel Howe. He’d been wearing baggy clothes earlier, I remembered, but he’d changed into some trousers and a shirt that I guessed might be Zevran’s; they were too short, but fit around far less tightly than they should for a man his size. _He’s been starved for a while._ It reminded me of nothing so much as Anders when we rescued him from the Circle. He’d shaved, however, leaving just his signature soul patch below his lip.

 I was surprised at the protectiveness shown towards Nathaniel by Leli and Zevran; clearly, this would be an interesting story. Zevran’s expression was dangerously mild as he locked gazes with Anora. The Queen gulped softly, but kept her countenance neutral, refusing to show the fear I knew she must be feeling. _At least, if she’s smart…_

 Once all of our companions – except Wynne, Aedan, and Duncan, for obvious reasons – were there, Alistair stood. He rubbed at his neck the way Theron always did, and I saw Anora flinch. “Alright, so, would _someone_ please explain what in the Void happened over there?”


	101. Accusation and Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Vague descriptions of torture and rape. No detailed descriptions.

Chapter One Hundred One: Accusation and Explanation

 

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of all of the Very Bad Things you fear would happen in a medieval dungeon. No detailed descriptions.*

 

Once all of our companions – except Wynne, Aedan, and Duncan, for obvious reasons – were there, Alistair stood. He rubbed at his neck the way Theron always did, and I saw Anora flinch. “Alright, so, would _someone_ please explain what in the Void happened over there?”

 Zevran was the first to speak. “We were betrayed, is what happened, isn’t it, your Majesty?” His gaze never left Anora’s face, and she flushed slightly. “You had the opportunity to stop it, to tell the truth, and you lied to save yourself.”

 She stood, pacing a couple of steps back and forth. “I told you that no one could know it was me. I told you I’d be taken back to the palace, perhaps even killed. The Warden spilled my identity to a room full of those who identified themselves as my father’s soldiers! What did you expect?”

 “I expected that the reigning monarch would have enough control over her own people to assure her own safety. I expected that she might consider the good of an entire nation over her personal well-being. Do you know there are only three Grey Wardens in the country who can end the Blight?” _That she was supposed to know of – Aedan, Alistair, and Riordan._ “And your selfish actions almost caused the death of one of them.”

 He stalked closer to her slowly during his tirade, and Anora stepped back again and again, until her back was against the bookshelves behind her. Finally Alistair put out his hand, and Leli stepped forward and tugged on Zevran’s arm.

 With a disgusted snort, he shrugged them off; the assassin turned and stepped back against the opposite wall, then brought out a dagger and began ostentatiously cleaning under his fingernails with the sharpened edge.

 Leliana offered a small curtsy to Anora. “I am Leliana, your Majesty. We didn’t have a chance for introductions earlier.” They exchanged nods and she turned back to Alistair. “Perhaps if I tell the story from the start?”

 Alistair nodded and gestured; he and Anora sank back into their chairs.

 “We infiltrated the estate through the ramparts, as we planned. We had poisoned the guards’ food, and so there were very few walking the halls. We worked our way toward where her Majesty was being detained. When we arrived at her door, we discovered her door had been sealed with magic. We went to find the mage responsible.

 “We found Nathaniel in one of the rooms, chained to the wall; he can perhaps tell us his own story after, yes?” The archer nodded, and Leliana continued, “He asked to come with us, and Aedan agreed. Kallian was with him, and after Anders healed her, she came as well.”

 I blinked. _Kallian? As in Tabris? As in, the city elf origin? I’d assumed Tabris had died in the assault on the Arl’s estate, after Vaughn interrupted the wedding in the Alienage…_

 I realised I was missing what Leliana was saying.

 “…stairway to the dungeon was in Howe’s actual bedroom! What sort of depraved person has private access to the dungeon from his bedroom?”

 Kallian had paled at the mention of it, and shrank back behind Wulf; I realised my worst imaginings probably didn’t do the truth any justice. I shuddered and shot the poor girl a sympathetic look, which she didn’t see, hiding as she was behind Wulf. I checked Nathaniel’s expression, but he was staring at the wall, not allowing any emotion to creep through.

 Leliana continued, “We went into the dungeon and fought our way through the guards – apparently they hadn’t eaten any of the poisoned food. We found a nobleman, Oswyn, the son of Bann Sighard, in a cell, having been tortured to within an inch of his life – all because he knew that one of his guards was in the army and had been ordered to leave the field at Ostagar before the King was over-run by darkspawn.”

 She paused, letting that sink in for everyone. “There was a templar, Alfstanna’s brother – the one who’d caught Jowan – in Lyrium withdrawal, being detained so he couldn’t tell anyone that Loghain had freed a blood mage and sent him to Redcliffe; Anders gave him some Lyrium, and we’ve already sent a message to his sister, who should be here soon. We also found Vaughn, the son of Arl Urien, the late Arl of Denerim, but he was…already dead.”

 I doubted most of the group would have noticed Leli’s brief pause before saying Vaughn was dead. I glanced back at Kallian to see her tensing, looking ready to flee.   _Vaughn might not have been dead when they arrived, but he didn’t last long after. And no one will miss him, either._ I wondered whether they’d managed to find his stash of gold before he died, not that we were in desperate need of the money. Wulf reached out and squeezed her hand softly, and she relaxed slightly when no one jumped up to accuse her of murder.

 “We freed some other prisoners, including Kallian’s cousin.” I was fascinated to learn there were others we didn’t see in the game; it made sense – it was a huge dungeon, there had to be other victims. “Then we finally found Howe. He must have heard the commotion in the rest of the dungeon, because they were waiting for us when we opened the door. We fought; Anders was injured, but we won. Nathaniel killed Rendon Howe, and we left to see if her Majesty was free.”

 I was rocked again. _Nathaniel killed Howe?_ There was more to that story, I knew, but clearly Leliana wasn’t going to give details. _I’m amazed Aedan let him live, never mind allowed him to be the one to kill Rendon. I’ll ask Zevran later, if Nathaniel doesn’t tell us._

 “She was, and so we left; as we tried to sneak back out the way we came, we were ambushed by a large group of Loghain’s soldiers. Aedan tried to tell them that we were rescuing the Queen, but she denied it and told them to arrest him and take him to Fort Drakon. We fought, and I assume her Majesty slipped out while the soldiers were occupied trying to capture us.” Anora nodded. “We won, but with Anders unable to heal…” She glanced in the direction of Aedan’s room, leaving the rest unsaid. “It was a long battle, and then getting back here took longer as well because we had to evade every guard on the streets, not knowing if they’d been alerted to look for us.”

 The mood in the room was ugly. Aedan was on the verge of death upstairs, and the one person who could have prevented the fight sat among us, posture rigid, expression neutral, hair perfect. It made me sick, and clearly I wasn’t the only one. Theron was shaking his head, and I could almost picture the sorrowful expression hidden behind his helmet. _What I wouldn’t give to see Anora’s face if Theron took off his helmet…_ The rest of the companions radiated rage, and Teagan was looking at Anora like she was a bug he’d accidentally crushed with his best shoes.

 “So would you like to wait until Aedan is awake, or would you prefer to start now with denying that it was you who drew us into a trap, your Majesty?” Zevran’s tone was deceptively calm, but the danger patent in the question was obvious. “Or are we supposed to ignore the similarity in tactics between yourself and your father at Ostagar?” In a way, I was glad he’d asked it; not being able to accuse Anora of exactly that in the game had infuriated me. Theron twitched, whether in shock or anger I couldn’t say.

 Anora stood, drawing herself up to her full height. “I will try not to hold your impertinent accusations against you; your friend is injured, and I will attempt to remember that you are not yourselves at the moment.” She turned to Eamon. “I wish to retire to my room to rest. I would like to be notified the moment the Warden is awake, Arl Eamon.”

 Eamon nodded silently, and Anora stalked out of the room, shoulders stiff. I took a big breath of relief when she made it through the door without one of Zevran’s daggers buried in her back. With her gone, we closed and locked the door.

 The mood wasn’t exactly brighter once Anora had left, but it certainly was a little less hostile. I wasted no time before crawling into Alistair’s lap; Zevran took my abandoned chair, and we all just relaxed for a moment, getting our bearings.

 Alistair sent a runner to get Duncan, who slipped in with his helmet on. We quickly filled him in on what Leliana had told us, and Zevran’s accusations.

 Leliana turned to Zevran. “We cannot be sure-“

 “Can’t we? That ambush was no accident, Leliana.” Zevran looked right and truly pissed. He turned to Nathaniel, practically spitting fire. “What of it, Howe? Was Anora conspiring with your father the whole time?”

 The dark-haired man sighed. “I don’t…know. I can’t be sure. My father bragged to me about the Queen being at the estate, but he didn’t say whether or not they were colluding. I just don’t know.”

 To my surprise, Zevran seemed to accept this, and despite his pinched lips, his objections subsided. I was shocked. _Zevran believes him, respects him enough not to question that?_ After a minute, attention turned back to Nathaniel and Kallian, who was still half-hidden behind Wulf. I wondered how much of that was because he was an elf, and how much because he was one of her rescuers.

 Alistair gestured to Nate. “Perhaps you’d care to fill us in on your story, then?”

 He nodded, a familiar broody expression reminiscent of the game on his face. “For those of you who don’t know me,” his gaze travelled around the room and paused noticeably on me, “I am Nathaniel Howe. My father was the man responsible for the deaths of the Couslands and, apparently, countless other atrocities over the past few months. I had been in the Free Marches for years, when I received a strange letter recommending I return and see what my father had been up to first hand. So I did, arriving in Denerim…a month ago or so? Only to learn that my father had indeed assumed the Teyrnir of Highever as well as the Arling of Denerim.

 “I went straight to the Arl of Denerim’s estate, where I’d heard he was living, to inform him of the rumours circulating about him…only to find all of them, and more, to be true.”

 He turned for a moment, apparently examining a shelf of books, but I guessed he was giving himself time to school his expression. “My father was surprised to see me – he never intended for me to return to Ferelden, I knew that long ago – but he took me in anyway. He bragged about his new titles, excited that the Howe family ‘had finally gotten what we deserved.’ He didn’t come right out and say that he betrayed the Couslands, but between what he did say and the rumours, even among his own men, it quickly became obvious.

 “I confronted him, and he didn’t deny it. And then…he showed me the basement.”

 “The dungeon.” Alistair’s expression was grim, and Nathaniel sighed.

 “Yes. I didn’t know…at first I didn’t know what was down there. Having figured out that I was unlikely to _approve_ of his methods, he tricked me into going down there saying he’d found something I needed to see. He gave me a tour, showing me all of his prisoners – in cages, being tortured, being raped by his soldiers – and then he locked me in a cell. Told me he’d give me some time to see if my attitude improved.”

 Kallian sobbed at the mention of rape, and Wulf turned and wrapped his arms around her, hiding her from us. Leli got up and went over to the two elves, whispered for a moment, and then Wulf led the poor girl out of the room. Kallian briefly made eye contact with Nathaniel, and nodded; he acknowledged it with a frown.

 He continued, once the door closed behind her. “He made sure I could hear what was happening…I had to listen while they…” He gulped. “He let my brother participate. In the rape and the torture. He corrupted my little brother, and Thomas took part in my father’s vile perversions.” The silence in the room was painful as we all contemplated that horror.

 “I wasn’t given food or water for three days. By the time they let me out, I was delirious, and too weak to stand. He locked me in a bedroom and gave me a day to recover. Then he came back and asked if I would join him in ruling the world – he implied he would marry me to Anora, and then he would be the power behind the throne – or if I would throw my life away.

 “I told him no. I called him a monster. He…had me tortured. While he watched. And then healed, and tortured again.”

 The impassivity on his face was quite possibly more horrifying than the story he was telling. _How bad do things have to be that someone can describe being tortured by their own father without flinching?_

 “I cracked. After enough time, he broke me. All in ways that wouldn’t permanently mark me, of course. But I finally agreed to do whatever he wanted, if only the torture would stop.” Now he looked ashamed, and I wanted to cry. _He was tortured, and the part that really bothered him was that it worked?_

 “He brought in Kallian. She was one of the ones I’d seen being…” He didn’t have to complete that sentence for us to catch on. I buried my face in Alistair’s shoulder, not sure how much more I could hear before I started going mad. “He made her nurse me back to health. Refused to have his mage heal me, refused to give me poultices or potions. She had to hand feed me, help me bathe and…things.” He flushed. _I bet they don’t make bed pans in Thedas._

 “She was kind. Far kinder than I deserved, being the son of the one who’d violated her. I know she’d been captured by Vaughn, and I assume raped, but nothing he did to her could match what my father had done. And despite that, she was kind. Over a couple of weeks, I slowly healed to the point that I could move, start rebuilding my strength. There was never enough food – he wanted to keep us both weak – but I was recovering.

 “And that’s when he came to me with his demands. He wanted me to prove my loyalty to him. Prove that I was capable enough, ruthless enough to do what he needed done. And to prove it…”

 He turned away again, practically whispering, as though saying it quietly could alleviate any of the pain. “I was to…to rape Kallian. To torture her and rape her. The kind woman who’d nursed me back to health. And he made his demand in front of her, no less. He’d refused me healing, made her take care of me, so I would have two weeks to get to know her, respect her…to make it that much worse when I was to rape her. And the alternative, if I refused…he would give her to Thomas. He said he would give me a day to make up my mind. That…was yesterday.”

 ****

We called a break after that, everyone eager to escape the terrible mental images brought on by Nathaniel’s story, but none more than Nate himself, I imagined. I wanted to go try to offer comfort to Kallian, but imagined she might not welcome the efforts of a human. Likewise I thought to offer sympathy to Nathaniel, but he held everyone at arm’s length with his glower alone. Instead, I invited him to go with Zevran, Alistair, and I to check on Aedan.

 Anders informed me he’d have a nap and when his mana had recovered sufficiently, he’d come to Aedan’s room. Solona dragged the blond mage off towards our room, and I wondered if he would get any rest at all, not that I’d blame them.

 Aedan was unchanged; Wynne took the opportunity to slip out and get something to eat while we were there. Zevran knelt by Aedan’s bedside, holding his limp hand; we decided to give him some space. I ended up back in the library with Alistair, Theron – still helmeted, Leliana, and Nathaniel. We locked the door so I could crawl back into Alistair’s lap, and he stroked my hair while holding me tightly.

 I turned to Nathaniel, the guilt so overwhelming I had to say something. “I’m sorry, Nathaniel. I wanted you to see what your father was doing, but I never thought…it’s my fault. Everything you went through. I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am.”

 “You sent me the letter?” His eyebrows crawled up his forehead in surprise. Leliana let out a gasp as well, and I realised I’d only told Aedan and Alistair about my letter. Leli had mailed it, but didn’t know what it said. _Duncan…is going to be furious._

 I nodded, holding out the rose necklace I’d used in lieu of a signet ring to seal the letter.

 “But, my Lady, I don’t understand. How do you know me? I’m certain we’ve never met. I don’t even know who you are.”

 “I’m Sierra, Aedan’s sister. We haven’t met, but I know of you.”

 His expression was incredulous. “I grew up with Fergus Cousland, my Lady. If he’d had a sister, I’d have known.”

 “I was raised…away from Highever.”

 He shot me a skeptical look. “Why would the Couslands send their only daughter away?”

 I sighed, trying to decide how to respond, when he flushed. “Did they know? That my father…?”

 “No, no. Nothing like that. It’s a long story, one I don’t have time to prove to you at the moment. But I knew that if Aedan killed your father, if you hadn’t seen it for yourself…I knew you’d be angry. You wouldn’t believe that your father had done…everything he has. That you might even try to kill Aedan thinking he’d murdered your father without reason. I wanted to avoid that.” I sighed, covering my face with my hands. “I never dreamed he’d do…that…to you.”

 “But how did you know what he was doing? He hid it extremely well – none of the rumours even mentioned the dungeons, or the Queen. They were all about the Couslands.”

 “That’s the long story. Let’s just say I…have my sources. For the same reasons I was sent away as a baby. Once Aedan is better…well, we can tell you about it then, okay? I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

 He stared at me for a minute, unblinking, and then looked away. “It’s not your fault. If he hadn’t had me here to distract him, he might have done something worse to someone else. This way…well, I got to see exactly who my father was. It’s better this way.”

 Abruptly he got up and fled; Leliana shot me a sympathetic look and went after him. I turned to bury my face in my favourite spot on Alistair’s shoulder and let out a few tears that had been threatening for a while. Theron slipped out of the library and closed the door behind himself, giving us some time alone.

 “I didn’t…Maker, I never thought about the consequences of the things I did. I never thought anything like this could happen because of me. What if…what if I’ve done something terrible? What if, because Duncan and Theron survived, or something…what if I’ve made everything worse?”

 He tilted my tear-stained face up and kissed the tears away from my cheeks. “All you can do is your best. No one can know the outcome of their actions, regardless of how much knowledge they have. You did what you thought – what we all thought – was right, and you have to believe in that. Even when things seem bad.”

 He kissed me then, a soft, warm, giving kiss, letting me take what I needed from him. I wanted to stay like that forever, but there were so many things to worry about. I sighed and pulled away, running my fingers through his hair and pressing my forehead against his.

 “I don’t know if I can do this.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, so I explained, “Pretending we’re not together. Everything is just too horrible, I can’t deal with it without you.” He rubbed his nose against mine, and my lips twitched in the barest of smiles. “It was a terrible idea,” I admitted. “I wanted Anora to look bad. I wanted to see if she was as horrible as I thought. And she is. But it wasn’t worth it.”

 He squeezed his arms around me. “Honestly, we’d have had to do it anyway – if I’m supposed to be the contender for the throne, I can’t already have a wife. The nobility wouldn’t be okay with that, according to Eamon. But I don’t see any reason we have to continue to pretend not to be together…I’m sure the servants already know anyway. Which means Anora can find out, if she cares to. And since the nobility seem convinced that political marriages are the way to go, I doubt she’d really even see it as an impediment if she decided she wanted to consider a marriage alliance. We can pretend you’re my mistress.”

 He looked profoundly uncomfortable with the word mistress, and I giggled. I smiled at him around a few more tears. “Does that mean we can share a room?”

 He grimaced. “We should probably keep up the fiction of separate rooms, but I have no intention of sleeping alone, my Lady.” He kissed me again. “Okay?”

 “Okay.” I kissed him again. “Have I told you I love you?”

 “Not in at least an hour,” he teased.

 We went back to his room to have a nap, only to discover Solona standing in the hallway with Leli, Wulf, and Kallian, having a discussion.

 “I know, but…”

 Leli interrupted herself when she saw us approach; Kallian shrank back behind Wulf again. Alistair stopped several feet back, leaving a respectful space between himself and the fearful elf, and she seemed to understand the courtesy, shooting him the briefest of smiles.

 “Sierra, please. You must help us.” Leliana held her hand out and pulled me closer.

 “Hello, Kallian. I’m Sierra.” I ignored Leli for the moment, speaking quietly to the elf. She nodded, and I turned to look at Leli. “What do you need?”

 “We are short of rooms. The only place for Kallian to sleep is the barracks.”

 “Oh, that’s not going to happen. We’re not making you sleep out there with all of those men.” Wulf winced, and Kallian gripped his hand. “Present company excluded.” Wulf snorted softly, and we exchanged quick grins. “I was actually wondering whether you’d like to go back to the Alienage and be with your family.”

 Without meeting my gaze, she shook her head. “I can’t go back. Not like this. There’s no place for me there anymore.”

 I was obviously missing something, as Wulf wrapped his arm tighter around her shoulders, and a tear trickled down her cheek.

 Leli looked at me. “Dear Kallian believes she has been…tainted, by her experiences, yes? That she is no longer pure, and therefore cannot go back.”

 “Not to mention I’d probably be arrested for attacking Vaughn and escaping prison.”

 I carefully reached out, placing my hand on her forearm gently. “No one will hurt you, Kallian. The guards will leave you alone – they owe us a lot. And I know your father and Valendrian will be eager to see you. But you don’t have to go now, and you don’t have to stay there. No one will hurt you here, I swear it.”

 “I’m just an elf. What’s to stop them? I’m no one’s servant, so I have no protection.”

 “I would stop them.” I squeezed her arm slightly, and she looked up. “We all would. We have a few elves travelling with us, you may have noticed, and they are not our servants. They are equals, as would you be. And you can ask the servants here – you won’t hear of any abuse from any of us.”

 I turned to Leliana. “Actually that gives me an idea. Until we figure something else out, being someone’s servant would protect her, right?” Leliana nodded, as did Kallian. “Well then, let’s give her a job title. I’m supposedly Lady Cousland,” I put scorn on the word lady, and Alistair laughed, “so why don’t I have a…lady’s maid?” I turned back to Kallian. “You wouldn’t need to do anything – I don’t need a lady’s maid – but you could sleep in our room,” I gestured to Solona and the mage nodded, “and if anyone gives you any trouble, you tell them I’ll have them drawn and quartered if they do anything to you.”

 Kallian looked skeptical, but Wulf turned her and spoke quietly into her ear. They talked for a moment, and then she turned back. “I suppose sleeping on the floor isn’t the worst thing that could happen.”

 “Nonsense. You can share the bed with Solona, if you’re okay with that? I’ll be sleeping… elsewhere.” I reached back and Alistair took my hand, and a knowing smile passed across Leli’s face.

 Kallian studied Solona for a moment, before glancing at Wulf; he nodded reassurance, and she relaxed. “That would be fine. And I can work, my Lady-“

 “Oh, don’t start that nonsense. I’m no more a lady than Wulf is.” He snickered, and I shot him a grin. “Just Sierra, and all I need for you to do is recover, okay? Eat, rest, get Wynne to check out your physical health. Train, if you like – there are weapons and sparring dummies in the barracks.”

 At that, interest flashed in her eyes, before she dropped them demurely. “Elves are not permitted to use weapons.”

 I giggled. “Someone should maybe have told Zev and Wulf that.”

 She glanced up at Wulf, taking in the sword on his back, the dagger sheathed at his hip, and the uncomfortable way he squirmed when I pinned him with a look.

 “How many?” I asked.

 He twitched, and looked at Kallian. “Seven. The sword, three daggers, and three throwing knives.” I looked at him again, and he sighed. “And a boot knife. But that’s it! I swear.”

 Kallian was even laughing by the end of his list.

 “Zevran’s worse. When we captured him, I went looking. I must have found about twenty knives strewn about.” Leliana chuckled. “And those were only the ones I found.”

 “Captured?” Kallian looked confused.

 We all laughed, and Leli threaded her arm through Kallian’s, leading her towards the dining room, explaining as they walked. Alistair and I watched them go, amused.

 “I never thought how weird it must sound when someone asks how we met all of our friends.”

 “Ah yes. ‘This one’s mother turned into a dragon and we had to kill it, this one murdered some farmers and was left for the darkspawn, this one dreamed the Maker spoke to her, this one tried to kill us…this one just popped into existence from a different world.” I snickered.

 “Then there’s the mage who tried to poison a noble, the other one who helped him escape, the dwarf we rescued from a different dungeon…yeah, our group sound like a really stable lot.”

 Smiling, he took my hand and we headed to the dining room as well for supper.


	102. Duty and Suffering

Chapter One Hundred Two: Duty and Suffering

 

We ate a late dinner, slightly subdued compared to our usual boisterousness, given those that were missing from the table – Aedan, Zevran, and Wynne. Kallian still looked a bit thunderstruck at the chatting and teasing, but she sat on a corner between Wulf and Solona, with Leli across from her, and she didn’t look like she was panicking too badly. Nathaniel sat across from me and just watched silently.

 Anders was feeling better, so when we were done, we brought up plates for Zev and Wynne, and Alistair, Morrigan, and I followed the healer up to the room where Aedan lay sleeping.

 I stopped Morrigan outside the room, giving her a hug and thanking her for her help; her expression was a humourous combination of pleased and irritated, and she sniffed. “He is our leader, and a Grey Warden. He will be needed, and that means he must be healed.”

 “I know. And I thank you for believing that, and for helping, regardless of your reasons.”

 Her lips twitched in a small smile, and I squeezed her one more time before entering Aedan’s room.

 Zevran looked exhausted, and I hugged him. Wynne smiled tiredly at us, and Anders joined her on that side of the bed. Morrigan went over there too, and the three mages got into a quiet discussion of magic that went completely over my head. Finally ready, their auras flared and weaved together, and the healing began.

 It was gentler than the last time, it felt like; more precision and less raw power, I assumed. None of them needed Lyrium, and they didn’t look completely exhausted when they were done. Wynne assured us that Aedan would be fine, and now was just sleeping. She put a sleeping spell on him that would last until morning, and we all left an anxious Zevran there, climbing onto the bed beside the rogue.

 Theron whispered that he would go fill Duncan in on everything that had happened, and we wished him goodnight. Alistair and I passed the library on our way to bed, and I saw Nathaniel sitting there, in the dark, a glass of some sort of brown liquor – _whiskey, perhaps?_ – in his hand. Gesturing to Alistair to go on to his room without me, I poked my head into the library cautiously.

 “Nathaniel? You okay?”

 “Not especially, no.” His words were slightly slurred, and I wondered how much of that brown liquor he’d had. He gestured to a chair across from him, and I perched uneasily on the edge.

 We sat silently for a minute, awkwardly, and I was about to stand up again and excuse myself when he finally spoke. “She begged me to, you know. To rape her. It would be better than letting Thomas have her, she said. Kinder. She begged me to ‘accidentally’ kill her instead of letting it drag on.”

 I closed my eyes, trying to force back the tears and the horror I knew he didn’t need from me. I was frantically trying to think of something – anything – to say, and coming up blank, when he spoke again.

 “And Maker help me, I was going to do it.”

 I sat, thinking about what I could say to that. “Nathaniel…if it had been me, I would have said the same thing. Some fates are worse than death, and sometimes mercy requires a friend’s help, no matter how painful.” I reached out and gripped his hand. “You wouldn’t have been wrong.” I stared into his eyes, hoping he could see my sincerity. “You are not your father, and you are not the monster he tried to make you into. You are a good person, who was trying to do the best you could in an unwinnable situation.”

 He watched me, mouth moving without sound, looking so lost I wished I could take all of it away. Suddenly, the hand holding his drink dropped, the glass falling from his fingers to shatter on the ground. His whole body slumped, and I looked up from the shards of glass to see his head loll back, eyes closed. I jumped to my feet, wondering if he’d been injured and somehow no one had noticed; I was ready to scream for help when he let out a sonorous snore.

 Leli stepped out of the shadows in a corner of the library, reaching out to touch my shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. He needed to say that to someone, and he wouldn’t talk to any of us who… saw him.”

 I looked at her suspiciously. “You drugged him.”

 She sighed. “He needs rest, yet he wouldn’t close his eyes. You coming along while he was…talkative…was pure coincidence. He probably won’t remember telling you in the morning, but he’ll feel better for it all the same, yes?”

 “Leli…” I remembered Aedan had done something similar to Alistair back at Soldier’s Peak; it seemed slipping sleeping draughts into people’s drinks was common practice in Thedas, but something about it felt wrong. They should have been left to deal with their feelings their own way. _But what if he hadn’t? What if he refused to deal with it?_ I shook my head. _It_ _’s too late now anyway._

 “I know, Sierra. And I’m sorry you were burdened with his guilt. But I…” She looked at the sleeping man, a slight grimace on her face. “I couldn’t let him just suffer like that anymore,” she finally continued. “He’ll sleep for twelve hours, and hopefully wake refreshed. Will you help me get him to the barracks?”

 I looked at the snoring, limp body in front of me and sighed. “You could have at least gotten him back to the barracks before you knocked him out.”

 Leli chuckled, and between the two of us we hoisted Nathaniel up and began walking him down the hallway. Even as emaciated as he was, he was heavy, and he was a good six inches taller than either of us; it was awkward. When we passed by Alistair’s room, I paused, shifting Nathaniel’s weight, and then turned and knocked. Alistair, wearing his soft sleeping trousers and a shirt he’d obviously just thrown on, answered, his expression confused until he saw the dead weight Leli and I were dragging.

 Without even asking, he stepped out, took Nate’s arm, and slung the man over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He made it look so easy, and Leli and I exchanged amused glances as we both ruefully rubbed at our sore backs. I followed Alistair and Leli to the barracks, helping to ease the poor man into a bed. Leli worked his boots off, and then tucked him in.

 “He looks so peaceful like this.” Leli’s expression was wistful.

 “Yeah. Like a baby,” I teased.

 “Or a puppy,” Alistair added.

 She grinned and waved us away. “Get off with you, then.”

 I gave her a quick hug. “Good night, Leli.”

 Theron was in his room in the barracks, one of the few rooms with an actual door, and we stopped to talk briefly. Blake was asleep, dead to the world on a little trundle bed at the end of Theron's bunk.

 “How are you doing?” I asked, noting the bags under Theron's eyes and the pale complexion.

 “This is harder than I thought. Watching, not being able to even say anything. Loghain…how did I never see what he’s become? He’s completely mad. And I could get Anora to tell the truth, I know I could.”

 “In the end, though, does it matter?” Alistair’s question surprised me, and he flushed when Theron and I both stared. “Whether she colluded in a trap or was caught in one herself, she had nothing to do with the torture, or the…other things, that Howe was doing. She wasn’t the one who called the retreat at Ostagar. And clearly Loghain is the one calling the shots at the palace.”

 “It matters to me,” Theron muttered. He looked from me to Alistair. “If something bad happened, and it was possible…just possible…that Sierra was involved, that she caused some of the suffering, wouldn’t you need to know, so you could make your decisions?”

 “Sierra would never.” I smiled at my husband and squeezed his hand. “I can’t imagine having to wonder about that. But…if you think it’s even possible, if you can’t be completely sure that it’s not… Doesn’t that answer your question?”

 Theron’s face was so crestfallen, I felt sick. I reached out to pull him into a hug, and felt Alistair wrap his arms around both of us from behind me.

 “We’re here for you, whatever you need, whatever you decide, okay?” I whispered.

 He nodded, then turned away. “I think I’d like to go to sleep now.”

 “One second.” I gestured to Alistair to stay, and slipped out of the room, finding Anders sitting on his bunk, expression somewhat…smug.

 “Anders, I want to talk more later – tomorrow, maybe – but can I have one of those sleeping potions?

 He rummaged in his pack and handed me a small vial. “Trouble sleeping?”

 “It’s not for me. Thanks.”

 He nodded knowingly and I headed back into Theron’s room. “Drink this.” He looked about to object, but I put my finger on his lips to stop him. “Drink it. You need rest, and I know you aren’t going to sleep, between worrying about Anora, Loghain, and the Landsmeet.”

 Alistair nodded encouragingly, and he sighed and took the vial, popping the cork with his teeth and tossing the entire contents back.

 We wished him a good night, and left him to get ready for bed before he passed out entirely. Alistair and I wandered back to his room hand in hand; I barely paused to check if we were being watched before following him inside. I assumed Kallian and Solona were in my room, but didn’t want to risk waking them up by checking.

 Alistair sat on the bed while I changed out of the dress I wore. “So what was that all about with Nathaniel?”

 “He was feeling guilty for his father’s actions. So Leli drugged him to sleep.”

 “What is with the people we know drugging someone to make them sleep?”

 I laughed; I hadn’t been sure if Alistair knew Aedan had done that to him. “I don’t know.”

 Once I was naked, before I could slip into a nightgown, Alistair tossed off his tunic and reached out, pulling me into his arms and laying us both back on the bed. “Are you okay?”

 “Not really.”

 “Still feeling guilty?” He tucked my head under his chin, stroking my hair softly.

 “Wouldn’t you?” I sighed.

 “Probably.” He chuckled when I pinched him. “But that doesn’t mean you should. You aren’t responsible for Rendon Howe just because you knew in advance that he was evil. It isn’t your fault that you can’t prevent every bad thing from happening. Just like it's not Nathaniel's fault because it was his father.”

 His calm voice and the slow beat of his heart soothed me, and I drifted to sleep, exhausted from the emotional day we’d had. I woke several times with nightmares – between darkspawn, Nathaniel, and Kallian, I slept poorly – but most of the time managed to avoid waking Alistair; I wasn’t the only one having bad dreams, though, based on the muffled shouts I could hear from across the hall. After my final nightmare, a horrifying vision of being Kallian and watching Nathaniel strangle me as I lay tied down, naked and helpless, I woke up struggling and accidentally smacked Alistair in the head.

 He sat up, gathering me into his arms, holding down my flailing limbs and shushing me until I relaxed. I sobbed into his shoulder and he held me until I cried myself out, then slowly, reverently made love to me until I shattered in his arms and afterwards, fell into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

 The next day everyone woke at varying times, so the dining room kept up a steady supply of bread, cheese, and fruit and everyone just grabbed plates and helped themselves whenever they got up. Eamon left early with a contingent of soldiers to accompany Connor and Isolde to the docks. We agreed to wait until he returned to have our talk.

 True to Leli’s word, Nathaniel’s expression was slightly less tortured when we finally met in the library, though he wouldn’t meet my eyes; Kallian had stopped flinching every time one of the men looked at her, though she still clung to Wulf. Anora, Eamon, Teagan, and Alistair were there, as well as Leliana and the two elves, with Theron playing door guard as usual.

 I jumped out of my chair when Aedan came through the door, and launched myself into his arms. He laughed and held me while I cried on his shoulder; Zevran stood behind him, looking relieved and happy, and I hoped that meant whatever problems the two of them had, they’d worked them out. Everyone else came up to offer handshakes or hugs, depending. Anora offered a nod, and Aedan responded with a brief bow – more than she deserved, certainly, but he seemed determined not to act like she’d betrayed him. He also greeted Nathaniel with a friendly smile, which made my heart soar.

 I pulled Aedan to a seat between me and Zevran; Zevran sat with Aedan’s hand possessively on his shoulder, while I held the opposite hand. Alistair, grinning at Aedan’s recovery, cleared his throat and started the meeting.

 Almost immediately, Anora requested a more private audience with Aedan, Alistair, and Eamon. Unable to come up with a good enough excuse, the rest of us, except Theron and Nathaniel, were forced to leave. Eamon insisted Alistair’s ‘bodyguard’ stay. Anora was highly offended, but couldn’t do much about it. Aedan asserted that Nathaniel was now the Arl of Amaranthine, and thus had a direct interest in the discussion – Nate started to argue until Aedan’s glare shut him up. I was startled, so used to assuming Nate would become a Grey Warden that I hadn’t thought about the implications. Being rescued from his father’s dungeon, helping to defeat the man… _he very well could take over the Arling._ Reluctantly, I left.

 I followed Zevran back to Aedan’s room, and he assured me he and Aedan were doing well.

 “Seeing him like that, carrying him back here, wondering if we’d make it in time... A petty misunderstanding about hurt feelings seems rather pointless, no?”

 I laughed. “Yeah, too bad Alistair didn’t almost die at Soldier’s Peak – maybe I’d have been able to forgive him sooner.”

 I told him what Nathaniel had said before passing out; he was sympathetic.

 “Even the Crows don’t give someone those sorts of choices during training. Kill a rival, someone you trained with, absolutely, but someone who’d nursed you to health after an injury? No. Although I suppose usually no one nursed any of us back to health; if we were too badly injured for a healing potion or two, we would die.”

 “Nate killed his father?”

 “Oh yes. Aedan was fighting him while the rest of us dealt with the guards and the mage; Howe was quite good for an old man.” He grinned, his expression feral. “Nathaniel was supposed to wait outside the door, but instead he followed us, picked up one of the dead guards’ swords, and ran his father through. Cut his throat, after, for good measure. Aedan told him he didn’t have to, that he shouldn’t have had to kill his own father…but hearing what he’s been through, I’m not sure if that’s true. I imagine it might provide Nathaniel some…”

 “Closure?”

 “Just so. Now, tell me about the palace?”

 I told him what I knew of the discussion, the assassination attempt, and Loghain’s responses.

 “I’m guessing this Cauthrien didn’t know about Loghain hiring the Crows, then, yes? How I’d love to be able to tell her.”

 “You’ll get your chance at the Landsmeet. She’ll be there with orders to keep us out. Even without all this, she’d let us through. She idolizes Loghain, but she’s not stupid. Just a little blind.”

 I spent a while going from room to room, checking in on my companions, while I waited for the meeting to be finished. I’d barely seen Duncan in a couple of days, and so I spent a while chatting with him, ensuring he was caught up on all the details of what had been happening.

 As I’d predicted, he wasn’t happy that I’d put myself at risk by writing to Nathaniel, and was even less pleased with my letter to Varric.

 “What if the Chantry hear about your skills as a _seer_?” he asked, after I paraphrased the one to Varric. “Bad enough Greagoir knows. You think it will matter to them that you have templar powers when you seem to be able to predict the future? Or when they learn you were sent to another realm by darkspawn magic? Never mind the Grey Wardens. I’m sure they’d love to study you and find out how you seem to nullify the taint somehow, and determine how much you know about the Architect. If they even dreamed of how many of their secrets you knew, they’d probably try to put you through the Joining again, which could very well kill you, given your…odd…reaction to the last Joining.”

 “I know, Duncan. I know, it’s a risk. But you think it’s better to allow Kirkwall to degenerate into chaos, to not prevent all-out war between mages and templars, given the chance? My life isn’t worth all of those who might be saved.”

 He sighed. “I thought you told Alistair you don’t have a hero complex.”

 I snorted a laugh and hugged him. “It’s not a hero complex. It’s a duty, and you, of all people, can’t blame me for that, right?”

 He chuckled and kissed my forehead. “Fair enough.”

 I checked in on the others in the barracks; Sten was impatient to get done with the politicking so we could get back to trying to kill the Archdemon, Jowan was anxious being in a city so near a very large, well-staffed Chantry, the dwarves were bored and wanted to find something to go kill, though Bel had been working on his voice training when Leli had time, and he barely stuttered at all any more. Anders was asleep, still recovering from the magebane.

 Blake was practicing his letters, between running errands for Theron, Duncan, or any of the others. He assured me he was doing well, and that no one had been unkind to him since Theron had taken him on. He'd probably put on ten pounds, since that day in the kitchens at Redcliffe, and he was going to need new clothes soon. I read with him for a while, just enjoying the simple pleasures of reading and watching a keen student learn.

 I knew Morrigan had taken to eavesdropping in bird form, but I found Wulf and the other women – Kallian, Solona, Wynne, and Leliana – in the dining room, mostly trying to help Kallian feel at ease, from what I could tell.   Wynne had checked her out and declared that Anders had done a good job at healing her, leaving her physically well, at any rate, and everyone just refrained from asking about her mental state.

 I sat down with them in the middle of a discussion about what Kallian wanted to do since she was free. She didn’t seem to know, just insisted she could not live in the Alienage anymore, though she did want to go visit her father. Happy to have something to do, we decided we would accompany her there right away. Faren was happy to come, as was Zevran, so we all went to change into armour and meet in the hall. Wulf, Solona, Leliana, Wynne, Zevran, Faren, and I all accompanied Kallian when we left Eamon’s. She seemed less nervous with fewer humans around, and so many women. Wearing armour, a borrowed bow on her back, with a handful of people following her, she seemed almost like what I imagined she’d been before Vaughn – confident, relaxed, competent.

 Until we were approached by a guard **.** I didn't recognise him, but he must have been one of Kylon's, since no one else should have been patrolling the Alienage gates. The poor sergeant hadn't been able to rid his ranks of all the idiots, apparently; this one was probably in his twenties, had tiny, piggy eyes and was significantly overweight. He had a sword at his hip, a heavy, impractical, ceremonial thing that looked like it had never been used, but no helmet and the straps on his armour strained against his bulk.

 He held an apple, biting into it noisily and then addressing Kallian with his mouth full, spittle and chunks of apple spraying from his lips. "Oy, you! Knife-ears!"

 Kallian tensed, and Wulf took her arm, dragging her halfway behind him. I stepped forward, blocking his line of sight to the fearful elf, crossing my arms over my chest.

 "Ser?" I inquired, voice flat but not disrespectful. "May I help you?"

 He looked me over, his gaze travelling over my tight-fitting armour with a leer. He tore his gaze from my chest to look back at my face. "I've got no quarrel with you, though I wouldn't mind getting to know you better, sweetheart." Zev stirred behind me, and I waved my hand in a gesture I hoped he'd understand. "But them knife-ears can't just parade around here with weapons. They're goin' to Fort Drakon."

 I drew myself up, trying to look as haughty as I could. "I am lady Sierra Cousland, and these are my guards and my lady's maid. You shall not interfere here, guardsman, or I can guarantee your superiors will not be pleased by my complaints."

 He looked at Kallian skeptically. "Body guards, I could almost let pass, my Lady, but that's no lady's maid." His tone was a little more respectful, but I still wanted to strangle him with my bare hands.

 I took a chance that he was a pervert, in addition to an idiot. "Oh, you know, hired body guards are all fine and dandy, but there's nothing quite like the protection of a _well-trained_ friend with unquestioning loyalty." I winked, and his eyes widened. I could hear Zevran chuckle at my back. “And she is _very_ well trained.”

 He looked at her again, apparently unconvinced, and I glanced back to see her standing firm, cheeks flushed, but refusing to back down. I tilted my head, gesturing to her bow, and with a nod she unslung it and nocked an arrow. I turned back, grabbed the apple from his hand, and tossed it into the air, hoping beyond hope that she knew what she was doing with that bow. _I probably should have asked her first._

 To my relief, she spun and fired so fast I barely registered the movement, and the apple was pierced neatly through the center and pinned to the side of the building an inch from the idiot’s right ear. The shaft vibrated with the force of the shot, and I doubted I’d be strong enough to pry the arrow free.

The guard gasped and jumped away, then turned to glower at the elf. He looked like he might try to make something of it, and I sighed.

 I fished through the coin pouch on my belt while I nodded my head at the group behind me. “Look, guardsman, the group you see behind me are all _that_ good.” I nodded at the arrow. “They’re not going to go quietly, and you’re here all alone. And your sergeant owes my family a really big favour. Take this,” I gave him a small handful of coin, “and go buy yourself a new apple. Forget you saw us. And next time you see Sergeant Kylon, ask him about my brother, Aedan Cousland, the Grey Warden. I think you’ll find he agrees that you should walk away.”

 Grumbling, shooting dirty looks at me and Kallian both, ser piggy finally turned and walked away, leaving the gate unguarded. I approached Kallian slowly, stopping a few feet away. “You okay?”

 She nodded. “Yes. Though I’m not sure whether to be flattered or irritated.” She chuckled, and I relaxed, releasing a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. I had been afraid she’d be offended – or traumatised – by my implication that she was a servant in more than just the traditional sense. It was sickening and racist, but it felt at the time like the best way to end the conflict before someone had gotten hurt.

 “Definitely flattered.”

 “I’m sorry that I cost you-“

 “Nothing I wasn’t more-than-willing to pay. I’m just sorry it was necessary. Nice shot, by the way.” I grinned.

 “Not that nice – I meant to nick his cheek.”


	103. Alien Nation

Chapter One Hundred Three: Alien Nation

 

“Nice shot, by the way,” I praised Kallian.

 “Not that nice – I meant to nick his cheek.”

 Zevran chortled, and I howled, bending over and propping my hands on my knees as I laughed. “Well thank you for erring in that direction! A guard with an apple pinned to his nose would not have helped our cause any.”

 Kallian flushed and looked away, but I saw a smirk before she turned.

 When we all finally got our giggles under control, we turned back to the Alienage gate. Kallian took a deep breath, steeling herself, and squared her shoulders. Then she marched through, and we followed her across the bridge.

 My first visit to the Alienage was a revelation, and not in a good way. Much of it was in worse shape than even the game had demonstrated; the buildings all sagged together, looking one stiff breeze from total collapse, and even those that were well-maintained were clearly old and worn out. There were half-dressed children running around and playing games, ribs visible from long-standing malnutrition, bare feet blue from the cold.

 The children gave us a wide berth, even as some of them tentatively waved at Kallian, staring at the group of us with wide, frightened eyes; within moments, they were gone. The further we walked, the more elves I noticed watching us – from balconies and alleyways, through doorways and from behind abandoned crates. _Word apparently spreads fast in the Alienage._ We were all very careful to keep our hands well away from our weapons, and we let Kallian lead.

 No one approached us until we reached the centre of the Alienage, and I got my first look at a Vhenadahl. It was beautiful, huge and green, and someone had decorated it with paper lanterns and other colourful, handmade ornaments. A grey-haired elf who I recognised as Valendrian was waiting for us, as we got closer to the massive tree, and when he saw Kallian, he let out a cry and held out his arms. With a sob, she ran into them, and he folded her into a protective hug. We stayed back, respectfully, to allow them to have their reunion. After a moment, he gestured to a nearby elf who was watching with an inscrutable expression, and I heard him say the name Cyrion. With a nod, the elf jogged off, presumably to go get Kallian’s family.

 A bunch of the elves who’d been watching us approached cautiously, greeting Kallian with enthusiasm even as they stared at us with barely concealed suspicion. It didn’t take long before a familiar red-headed elf came running – Shianni, Kallian’s cousin. The two women hugged, both crying, and then pulled a smiling Soris into the embrace when he showed up. They talked quickly, Shianni’s dirty looks morphing to begrudging appreciation, and I guessed Kallian was telling them that we had been responsible for her rescue from the dungeon. Soris nodded, pointing at Wulf and Leliana.

 The crowd of elves now surrounding us parted to allow a tall, tired-looking, salt-and-pepper haired elf to shuffle through. He stopped, shocked, when he saw Kallian, and dropped to his knees, reaching one hand out towards her. She cried out and dove to her knees at his side, wrapping her arms around him as he kissed her forehead, tears streaming down his face. Everyone turned away, giving them as much privacy as they could, given the public nature of the reunion.

 Valendrian addressed the crowd, shouting to be heard. “Go about your business. These people are no threat to us. They brought us the supplies for the plague and the warning about slavers, and now have brought Soris and Kallian home. Please, go home.”

 Slowly, with a lot of shoulder patting and handshaking and hugging, the crowd dispersed, leaving us alone with Kallian, her family, and Valendrian. The Hahren gestured to us, and we came closer; Kallian actually smiled at us, shifting to stand next to Wulf, as usual. I saw Cyrion raise his eyebrows at this, but it seemed both Kallian and Wulf were unaware of the connection they apparently shared. I hoped it wasn’t just gratitude, on Kallian’s part, or protectiveness on Wulf’s, or we were going to be seeing heartbreak down the road.

 We were all introduced to Valendrian, Cyrion, Soris, and Shianni, and they all thanked us profusely for our help, both with the rescue and the plague. The elves began talking amongst themselves, Kallian telling them what had happened to her, though she glossed over the abuse. Apparently Vaughn, after the unsuccessful rescue attempt by Soris and Nelaros, had kept her as a plaything, and a cautionary tale for other women who’d been kidnapped. Soris had had no idea she’d survived, and hadn’t seen any of the other victims either; it was assumed they were all dead. When Howe imprisoned Vaughn and declared himself Arl of Denerim, he’d passed Kallian over to his son, Thomas, and eventually, Nathaniel.

 She was very careful not to mention rape or torture, but the pity in the eyes of her family was obvious. And I couldn’t blame them – she’d been through hell. Somehow, though, talking to them about what happened, even the abridged version, and hearing them praise her strength and courage, she seemed to come alive. Her rigid posture relaxed some, and she smiled and laughed, not sardonically like I’d seen before, but actually mirthful. She was absolutely gorgeous when she smiled, which was not lost of Wulf, who watched her with longing eyes.

 After a bit, Kallian asked if we would wait while she went to the home she shared with Cyrion and now Soris, and we agreed, settling down in the grass near the Vhenadahl to wait. The children were back outside playing, and the elves walking around in the Alienage largely ignored us, though at least we weren’t the focus of so much rage anymore. I did notice that many of them, male and female both, had poorly concealed weapons – I could see bulges under sweaters, in waistbands, and several ‘walking sticks’ that I was quite sure were actually disguised spears. And there were rakes, hoes, and shovels laying around, apparently abandoned, in places where they could be easily grabbed and used as weapons. I wondered if several of them had actually even been sharpened.

 Zevran had obviously noticed the same, and he frowned when our eyes met. Nothing good could come out of this. I stood and walked towards Hahren Valendrian, who was standing nearby talking with passing elves.

 “Hahren?”

 “Yes, my Lady?”

 I scowled. “Please call me Sierra? I really hate the ‘lady’ thing.”

 He chuckled. “Ah, you _are_ Warden Aedan’s sister. He said something similar.”

 I laughed. “I’m very happy to see everyone here safe, and Kallian and Soris back home. But, Hahren…”

 “Yes, Sierra?” he prompted.

 “These people…they need to hide their weapons. There will be a purge if any guards come through here and see so many armed elves.”

 He glanced around, assessing each of the people within sight. “I don’t see any weapons.”

 I shook my head. Looking around, I pointed at one. “There. That man has a dagger sheathed in his armpit. That one’s got a sword down his pant leg. And no one makes walking sticks that long. It’s a spear. I’m not even all that well trained, and I can tell. Someone from the army, or a guard…they’ll know instantly.”

 Zevran approached. “Yes, cara mia, you are correct. This will bring a world of trouble onto the Alienage, no?”

 Valendrian paused, thinking. “What would you have me do? I have already tried – and failed – to convince the people not to arm themselves.”

 “I think that ship has sailed,” I muttered, and Valendrian grimaced. “Maybe…Zev? Could you at least teach them to hide them better?”

 “We’d need different weapons. Swords and traditional daggers aren’t easy to conceal, yes?”

 “Hmm.” I pouted. Zevran laughed, and Valendrian chuckled.

 After a while, Kallian emerged from her house, exchanging hugs with her father, Soris, and Shianni. She walked over, expression sad but determined. There were tear tracks on her cheeks. “I am ready to go now.”

 Valendrian twitched. “You aren’t staying? Kallian-“

 “I cannot, Hahren. Surely you must understand. Nelaros is dead.” She choked back a sob. “I may not have wanted to marry him, but he died because of me. My father cannot afford another wedding contract, and even if he could, who would marry me now?” She gestured down at herself, and we all flinched. “The guards may still come after me, if they see me. I will bring nothing but trouble if I stay here.”

 “But, my dear, where will you stay? What will you do?”

 “You can stay with us, for now, until you figure it out,” I offered. “No one will bother you at the estate. I’m sure Duncan won’t mind, and the Arl won’t even notice.”

 Valendrian looked at me, a strange expression I couldn’t interpret on his face. “Duncan?”

 I nodded, incredibly glad that the world knew about Duncan so I was free to tell the elderly elf. “Yes, that Duncan. He’s staying at the Arl of Redclffe’s estate with us.”

 “We will make sure she’s safe, ser. I promise.” Wulf stood behind Kallian, close but not touching.

 Finally, sadly, the Hahren nodded. “Your mother would be so proud of you, Kallian. Please come to visit as often as you can.”

 Kallian closed her eyes as he kissed her forehead, then threw her arms around the elder’s neck. “I promise.”

 With that, she turned and marched out of the Alienage, and we all shuffled along behind her.

 Once out in the Market District, I had an idea. “Hey, can we stop by Gorim’s on the way back? I want to see how he’s doing.”

 No one disagreed, so I veered towards the little house he shared with his wife and her family. One of the mercenaries Aedan had hired stood outside, leaning against the wall. He nodded to me, and I replied in kind. I knocked on the door, and Riana answered, her belly now bulging past what should have been physically possible even at this late stage of pregnancy.

 “Oh!” she exclaimed when she saw us, and I couldn’t tell if she was pleased or irritated by our presence. “You’ll be looking for Gorim, I imagine. He’s out back with father. Let me just get him.” She looked nervous.

 “Please,” I stopped her, putting my hand on her shoulder, “let me. I’m not here to take him, I promise. We just want to talk. Don’t trouble yourself.”

 She smiled, patting her belly fondly. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m still capable of walking a few steps.”

 “Still. Please. I just have a quick question anyway.”

 She nodded towards the back of the house, and I left her there chatting with Leli and Wynne, being introduced to the others. I found Gorim in the shed that doubled as a smithy, bundling up weapons while Riana’s father hammered on a lump of white-hot metal. He smiled at me, and gestured outside; he didn’t try to talk, as it would have been impossible to hear over the forge anyway.

 We stepped outside and closed the door, and he turned to me with a grin. “I wanted to help Sal get caught up, but I was going to come back to the estate tomorrow, honest-“

 “No, no. I’m not here to collect you, Gorim. No reason for you to sit around staring at the estate’s walls with the rest of us. The politics here don’t involve you, and you and Riana need some time, anyway. I actually have a business proposition for you.”

 I told him what I had in mind, and he gave me a price. Once agreed, he walked me into the house, putting his arm around Riana’s shoulders when we reached the front door. He greeted the others, nodded at Kallian, and then excused himself to go check on Revan in response to wailing coming from the back hall. Riana watched him go with a fond smile, and then turned back to me, grabbing my arm.

 “Thank you,” she whispered. “For bringing him back. I never thought I would see him again.”

 “I didn’t do anything, I assure you, but you’re welcome, anyway.” I squeezed her hand.

 “Is he…did you find her?”

 I raised my eyebrows, surprised. “He didn’t tell you?” She shook her head, lip trembling. “We did. She’s the Queen of Orzammar. Bhelen joined the Legion of the Dead.”

 “Why didn’t he stay?”

 I looked at her for a moment, thinking. _I am not going to be the one to tell her he slept with Sereda and then left because he couldn’t be her consort._ “Do you really want to know? Does it matter? He had a chance to stay, and he didn’t. He’s here. Given that you sent him to another woman, do you really want to know the details?”

 A single tear trickled down her cheek. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

 I squeezed her hand again. “He’s here, and he’s not going to leave you again. Your baby will have a father, and so will Revan. He loves you, and there won’t be anything hanging over his head. And if he wants, he could get a job with the Palace Guard or the army without any trouble. You both have the gratitude of the entire Dwarven nation, and you’re together. Just… be happy, and don’t think about the rest, okay?

 She nodded, wiping away the tear and taking a deep breath. “You’re right. And I am grateful. It doesn’t matter.” She smiled tentatively. “Thank you again.”

 “Tell Gorim I’ll be back to visit in a few days?”

 She nodded, and we headed out. We took another quick detour to meet with the messengers who we knew waited just outside the city once a day from the camp we’d left outside Denerim. Dariel, Mithra and a Circle mage from the camp waited just outside the gates. We filled them in on what had been happening; they had no real news.

 We headed back to the estate after a few minutes of idle chit chat; I was pleased to see Dariel less afraid of me, and starting to come out of his shell a little. The trip was thankfully uneventful, and we trooped inside to find Aedan and Alistair waiting for us in the hall.

 Alistair grabbed me in a hug, then held me at arm’s length to inspect me. Aedan looked us all over, a deep frown on his face.

 “Where were you?” His tone was trying to be scathing, but ended up just sounding anxious.

 Holding Alistair’s hand with one of my own, I turned to Aedan with a chuckle. “You’re just jealous we weren’t stuck in a meeting all afternoon.” He growled, and I sighed. “We escorted Kallian to see her family. You didn’t ask any of the servants? I told them where we were going.”

 Alistair rubbed his neck sheepishly. “It didn’t occur to us.”

 I laughed. “Anyway, we’re back. How did the meeting go?”

 “Oh, you’re going to love this.” Alistair actually giggled.

 Aedan rolled his eyes. “Let’s go talk.”

 Zevran and I followed, leaving Kallian and the others to their own devices. Aedan led us into the library, turning and closing the door with a thump. Alistair sat on a chair and tugged me into his lap, and Aedan and Zev sat together opposite.

 The two took turns telling us about the meeting. Apparently, Anora had not only said some rather rude things about Cailan’s intelligence and competence, apparently implying that Ferelden was better off without him, she’d also attacked me and my relationship to Alistair.

 “Theron was furious. It was a good thing she was sitting with her back to him, because if she’d seen him the secret would have been out.” Alistair laughed. “I thought we might not have to worry about competing for the throne – it looked for a minute like he was going to strangle her right there.”

 “Speaking of, where is Theron?”

 “In the barracks, murdering a sparring dummy.” Aedan rubbed his eyes irritably. “We asked about the regency, why she had supported her father against the charges; why, if she was so capable, she needed a regent at all, and she just kept changing the subject. Like I was too stupid to notice that she never answered the question.”

“She accused Aedan of trying to put a Cousland on the throne surreptitiously, saying I’d be a puppet King.” Alistair’s face was positively gleeful.

 I looked at Aedan, who flushed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I might have lost my temper a little.”

 “But Eamon jumped in and assured her that there were no plans for you to be Queen,” Alistair assured me.

 “Of course he did. You know,” I giggled, “one of these days she’s going to notice how we all keep dancing around actually calling Alistair the King. We say ‘the son of Maric’ or ‘the future King’, stuff like that. It’s kind of hilarious. I can’t wait until she sees Theron’s face.”

 Aedan sighed. “She invited me for a private discussion afterwards, asking me to support her bid for the throne. She called Alistair-“

 “Let me guess – charming but stupid.” Alistair frowned at me. “Her words, love. Not mine.” I kissed his nose and he stuck his tongue out at me.

 “Essentially, yes. But then she starting nosing around a marriage alliance.” I stiffened, and Aedan snorted. “Not to him. To me. She asked me if I really wanted a Cousland near the throne so badly, and if I thought you were the right person for the job.”

 I laughed out loud. “She actually propositioned you?”

 “Well, not in so many words. She even implied that my ‘friendship’ with a particular Antivan wouldn’t be a major problem as long as we were discreet.”

 Zevran sat forward, eyes flashing mischievously. “I rather think I’d enjoy being the paramour to the King.” Aedan punched him, and I giggled.

 “She also hinted that duties in the bedroom would not be required.”

 “Yeah, well, she’s barren anyway – what would be the point?”

 “She said that the infertility was Cailan’s.”

 “That’s not true.” They all stared at me. “Not my secret, okay? Let’s just say that before he married Anora, he certainly wasn’t infertile.”

 “I’m an uncle?” Alistair looked…enthused.

 “Not anymore.” I sighed. “She died.”

 They all contemplated that for a minute. “Before he got married? So his child died, then Maric, and he was left alone and grieving and married to _her_?” Alistair looked horrified.

 “Yeah.” I sat silently for a minute. “Turns out he had a hell of an excuse for not being the best King, at least at first. And then Anora and Loghain had taken over and wouldn’t even let him help.” I sighed. “So what did you say to Anora?”

 “No, of course. I told her the Couslands would have enough to do between the Grey Wardens and Highever and we wanted nothing to do with the throne. I also said I thought it was important that a Theirin was King. She wasn’t happy.”

 “I’ll bet.”

 “And I’ll be watching her and Erlina, to see what she does next?” Zevran grinned. “Perhaps I should try seduction of the lovely Orlesian handmaiden, yes?

 “No.” Aedan took Zevran’s face between his hands. “Not a chance. Mine.” He kissed Zevran, and I giggled, remembering my own possessive spouse back in Redcliffe.  


	104. Helping or Hurting

Chapter One Hundred Four: Helping or Hurting

 

“So what are the next steps?” I asked Aedan.

 “Well, Anora didn’t tell us about the Alienage, so either she didn’t know about the slavers beforehand or she figured out that they weren’t successful.”

 “Maker, I wish we knew whether she really was involved in all this.  At the end of the day, she’s still his wife.  I don’t envy him the choices he will have to make.”  I’d never wanted to be involved in politics less.

 “So now we just wait for the Landsmeet.”

 “Which is when?”

 “A week today, Eamon said.”

 A week of waiting did not appeal.  I turned to Aedan.  “Okay, in the meantime, I have a plan.”

 “This has to do with our side trip on the way back from the Alienage?” Zevran asked.

 I nodded.  “I want to help the elves.”

 I went on to tell Aedan and Alistair about the elves carrying poorly concealed weapons, and how it put them at risk if a guard noticed.  “And they’ll notice, believe me.  If I could figure it out, so could a guard.”

 “So what’s your plan?  You think you can talk them out of carrying weapons?”  Aedan looked skeptical.

 “Nope.  I propose a trade-in program.”  At their confused looks, I elaborated.  “Gorim’s father-in-law can make knives like the ones Zev has hidden all over the place.  Thinner, smaller, easier to conceal.  We have a bunch made, and then tell folks in the Alienage we need their thicker, larger weapons for the army, and offer a trade.  One small, concealable blade for one clunky weapon.  I think Kallian, Zev, and Wulf will have to do it – no doubt they’ll think it’s a trick if a human offers them a weapon – but Gorim said he would get us a discount for quantity, and also if any of the weapons turned in have decent, useable metal they can reforge.”

 Aedan looked like he’d accidentally bitten into a raw onion. 

 “What?”

 “Sierra…”  He looked at Zevran helplessly.  “Look, I appreciate that you want to help, but…we can’t get involved with arming the elves.  Duncan’s already going to skin me for giving them the coin to do it themselves.”

 I stood abruptly, pacing to the bookshelves and back.  “So we just, what?  Let them get arrested?  Imprisoned, maybe tortured?  Killed?  All because they want to protect themselves and their homes?  It might be one thing if the guards actually patrolled properly and defended them, instead of just making sure they don’t ‘get out’ and cause any problems for the humans.  Just look at what happened to Kallian!  You can’t blame them for wanting weapons.  But they’re going to get themselves killed.  Alistair?”

 I turned to my husband, who sat there looking like he was trying to get swallowed by the floor.  “Uh…”

 “Really?”  I kicked the base of a bookshelf irritably, and a book tumbled out into my arms.  I caught it, holding it uselessly, tears spilling over to trickle down my cheeks.  “Zev?”

 The elf stood, coming over to me and taking the book away, dropping it on a table.  He reached out and put one hand on my shoulder, the other cupping my chin.  “Cara mia, these things take time, yes?  We can’t just give them new weapons and expect the problems to be solved, even if we could get away with it.  You know Theron is sympathetic – just wait, bella donna.  Now isn’t the time.”

 “Would you say that if it was me who’d been serially raped for months, and we weren’t allowed to fight back?”  I shrugged out of Zevran’s grip, shot a dirty look at both Aedan and Alistair, and ran out of the room in tears.

It was Kallian who found me, later, huddled in the room I supposedly shared with her and Solona.  I’d missed supper, and she brought me a plate of food; for once, I had no appetite.  I picked at it listlessly.  She sat down cross-legged on the floor across from me.

 “Aedan told me your plan.”

 I sniffled and looked away.

 “I appreciate the thought, Sierra, but…that’s not the way to make things better, you know that, right?”

 I sniffed again.  “I just want to help.  I wasn’t…wasn’t raised to just be able to accept this sort of thing.  Treating someone else like that just because their ears are different.  No one should have to go through what you have, and those people in the Alienage…there’s no one to protect them from it happening again and again.”

 “I know.  But handing a bunch of half-trained children knives will only make things worse.  My father told me that already a handful have been arrested – fighting on the docks and pulling a dagger, that sort of thing.”

 “If a human did that, no one would even notice, unless it was someone important that they killed.”

 “That doesn’t make it okay.  Perhaps the focus should be on disarming the rest of the world, not arming the elves?”

 I thought about Earth – about the NRA and other conservative gun-nuts.  “Good luck with that.”

 She laughed.  “Listen, I do appreciate the thought.  And after the Blight…well, there will be some changes, I hear, and I hope we can make things better.  But for now, let’s just get through the human politics, and then the Blight, okay?”

 I nodded, dejected.  “Is there anything we can do?  Those children…”

 “Need more than any one person can offer.  I was lucky – my father was well-off, as elves go.  We always tried to feed the little ones, but…”

 “But they wouldn’t take food from us if we brought it to them, would they.”

 “Probably not.  And even if they did – are you going to feed them all forever?”

 I sighed.  “I intended to talk to Mother Boann and encourage her to set up a school.  Give her some coin for supplies.  Do you think the kids would go?”

 She thought about it.  “Some of them.  And I can ask my father and Valendrian to encourage more.”

 “What about buying the weapons for coin?  Think they’d sell?”

 “Probably not.  But if you’re actually offering, I can put out the word that the Grey Wardens are looking for spare weapons and willing to pay.”

 “I have some coin.  Aedan won’t even notice – he’s probably forgotten I have it in the first place.  How much do you think we should pay?”

 “They’ll be poor quality weapons.  More than twenty-five silvers each would just make them suspicious.”

 I considered.  Four weapons for a sovereign, then…I fished in my coin purse and handed Kallian ten sovereigns.  “If you need more, let me know.”

 “Why are you doing this?”

 “Like I said, I wasn’t raised to accept blind racism.  Elves should have the same rights as humans.  So should mages, for that matter.  And someone has to be the first to try to change everyone else’s mind.”

 “But, I mean, why me?  I could just take your coin and leave.”

 I thought about it.  “What you’ve been through…you are an incredibly strong person.  You helped Nathaniel even when he was too weak to make you.  I’d say you earned it.  Besides, Duncan knew your mother.  I think he’d approve.”

 She smiled.  “My mother?  Who is Duncan, anyway?  You mentioned him to Hahren Valendrian.”

 “Oh, uh, he’s the Warden Commander.  He’s been mostly hiding in the barracks since you got here, I suppose.  As I recall, he wanted to recruit your mom, but she wanted to stay and have a family with your father.”

 “I bet he has stories about her before I was born, then.”

 “I imagine, yes.  You should ask him.”

 “Would you mind if I came with you when you speak to Mother Boann?  I should thank her.  She tried to stop us from being kidnapped, even if she wasn’t successful.”

 “Of course.”

 My appetite returning, I reached over and grabbed a bun and a piece of cheese off the platter Kallian had brought me.  “I suppose I should go apologise to Aedan and Alistair.”

 “They’re not mad, as best I can tell.”

 “Doesn’t mean I don’t feel like a bitch.”

 She laughed.  “I think they’re in the library.”

 I grabbed another bun, gathered myself up off the floor ungracefully, and went to find them.  On my way, I ran into Nathaniel, who avoided making eye contact. 

 I rolled my eyes.  “Good evening, your Grace.”

 He looked up, startled, and I smiled.  He scowled at me, and then snorted a brief laugh.  “I’ve heard you don’t like being called a lady.  Given that you outrank me…”

 I grinned.  “That’s fair.  But I made you laugh.”  He smirked and I giggled.  “How are you doing, then, Nathaniel?”

 “Better than yesterday.”  He flushed and looked away.  “About that…”

 “No need.  You’d been sedated.  And you needed someone to talk to.  I didn’t mind.”

 “Thanks.”  He rubbed his forehead.  “And thanks for taking Kallian home.  Not that I understand how you know me, or her, and where exactly you come from…?”

 I considered.  “I think…maybe now’s a good time to tell you my, uh, history, as it were.  If you’re interested?”

 He nodded.

 “Alright.  I think my brother is in the library – I need to get something, and then I can meet you there?”

 He agreed and headed to the library; I quickly ran back the way I’d come, ducking into Alistair’s room to rifle through some of my belongings.  Finding what I was looking for, I headed back to the library.

 Aedan, Alistair, Zevran, and Nathaniel all sat chatting quietly when I arrived, and it was nice to see them all getting along – I’d been a bit worried that Aedan would hate Nathaniel no matter what, but Nathaniel’s misfortune at his father’s hands seemed to have made an impact.  The two were laughing together, reminiscing about times when the families had visited, joking about pranks played on poor Delilah, the only girl.  Theron stood by the door, silently watching as usual.

 The talk stopped suddenly when I came in, and I paused, blushing.  Alistair smiled tentatively at me, and I beamed at him.  He tilted his head towards Aedan, and I nodded.  Aedan wouldn’t meet my eyes, and I walked up to him feeling awkward.

 “I’m sorry,” I blurted, and he looked at me, deep blue eyes startled.  “I wasn’t trying to imply you didn’t care.  I just…”  I looked down.  He reached out and grabbed me in a hug, and I relaxed into it, relieved.  I put my arm out to Zevran and Alistair, and then we were having a group hug.  Until Zevran made a dirty joke, and we sprang apart like we’d been electrocuted.  Zev laughed uproariously, Alistair chuckled, and even Nathaniel smirked.  Aedan just groaned theatrically and punched the elf’s shoulder.

 I settled into Alistair’s lap, kissing his neck and murmuring apologies while everyone else was seated; he squeezed me and told me not to worry about it.

 I turned to Aedan.  “I was thinking we should tell Nathaniel about…me.”

 He nodded.  “I agree.  Especially given what you know about…”

 He didn’t complete that sentence, but I knew what he meant.  _Amaranthine.  Where the Architect and the Mother will go to war._   I grimaced, and then took a deep breath.

 “When I was born, somehow my mind, my consciousness, was sent to another world by a mage.  We don’t exactly know why, or how, but to my parents, I just never woke up after birth.  Apparently I was breathing, but didn’t respond.  They took me to healers and mages, but no one could figure out what was wrong.  We don’t know what happened after that, but they never told Aedan he had a sister.”

 Aedan nodded in agreement, while a wide-eyed Nathanial looked at him skeptically.

 “Meanwhile, I was living in another world, called Earth.  I was found abandoned, and raised as an orphan.  There was no magic, on Earth, no elves or dwarves, no darkspawn.  They have only people, and the things that humans can build, and a bit of herbalism.  Because of that, I guess, they’ve learned how to build some amazing things.  Like this.”

 I lifted my iPhone, which had been sitting in my lap, turning it on; Nathaniel gasped.  I took a picture, and then a video, played some music, and then handed it to him to hold.  He looked like it was a snake just waiting to bite, and we laughed.

 “It is quite safe.  Anyway, one of the things they built, sort of like that, was a way to interact with a pretend version of Thedas.  Somehow, someone over there knew a lot about Thedas.  There were books, and a game.  You watched it on a bigger version of that screen, and could influence events in certain ways.  So what is happening now, with the Blight…a lot of people on Earth actually know Thedas’ future. 

 “I was one of those people…and then, one day, I woke up here.  At first I assumed it was a dream, but I’m pretty sure it’s not.”

 Alistair chuckled.  “Only pretty sure?”  He made the words sound like an innuendo of some sort, and I elbowed him in the chest while he laughed.

 “So I knew what your father was doing.  Not the details, but…anyway.  I knew about the Blight, knew Loghain would abandon the Grey Wardens at Ostagar.  So, since I was stuck here, I decided to help, to try to…improve things, somehow.  In the game…well, after the Blight, you returned from the Free Marches, angry with Aedan for killing your father because you didn’t know what he’d been doing.  You ended up being recruited into the Grey Wardens.  I knew you were a good person, and I wanted you to know the truth so you wouldn’t blame Aedan.  That’s why I wrote to you.  I didn’t even know if my letter would find you, because they never said where in the Free Marches you were, but I had to try.  And I never dreamed your father would…” I swallowed, whispering the next words, “torture you.”

 I hadn’t given him time to respond, so I stopped, waiting to see what he would say.  He seemed speechless, staring at my phone like it held some sort of answers.

 “I know a little bit about you, if you’d like me to tell you?”  I prompted, racking my brain for what I’d learned in Awakenings. 

 He nodded, not really paying attention, but I decided to take him at his word.

 “Well, let’s see.  You grew up at Vigil’s Keep.  Your father hated your mother, but I think her family were rich so he needed them.  There was a portrait of your mother at the Keep that was only brought out when your grandmother came over.  You would be paraded in front of the old lady while she’d point out every fault she could find, so you always felt you weren’t good enough.  You had a groundskeeper, an elf named Samuel, who used to call you ‘Little Nate,’ and a servant – a nanny maybe? – named Adraia, who was the only real mother you ever had. 

 “Your brother Thomas liked to drink too much and throw up on your shoes, and your sister, Delilah, had a crush on a merchant in Amaranthine, and hated Aedan for ruining a dress when you were little.  Your grandfather joined the Grey Wardens, and you never saw him again; he had a bow that you used to admire, but your father hid it away.  And you weren’t allowed to explore the basements and cellars in the Keep – for good reason, because there’s a Deep Roads entrance down there, as well as an Avvar tomb full of demons and undead.”

 His eyes got progressively wider as my list went on.  When I finished, he stared at me in complete silence for at least a couple of minutes.

 When he finally spoke, his voice was somewhat amused, but still a little skeptical.  _Who could blame him?_   “That’s quite the trick.  Do you do parties or salons as well?”  He grinned to take the bite out of the words, but it was obvious they weren’t entirely joking.  “And now you’re going to be the Queen?”

 It hadn’t occurred to me how it would look to Nathaniel, and with a deep blush I stuttered, climbing out of Alistair’s lap.  “No, believe me, I have no plans to be Queen.”  I sat beside Alistair, who claimed my hand, lacing his fingers between mine.

 I glanced at Theron, who seemed to understand my question; he inclined his head slightly.  Another quick glance at Aedan showed my brother nodding thoughtfully.  I turned back to Nathaniel.

 “There’s something else you should know, but you must keep it a secret at all costs.  No one can know.  Will you promise?”

 He looked from Alistair to Aedan and back to me, all of our expressions deadly serious.  I turned to Theron, who had double-checked the lock on the library door and was reaching up to pull off his helmet.  Alistair gestured, and Nathaniel turned to look just as Theron swiped his golden hair off his face and smiled at Nathaniel.

 Nate paled, leaping to his feet and taking a step forward, only to stumble to his knees, one hand covering his mouth, the other reached out in supplication.

 "You...you...?"

 "Yes, me."  Theron grinned, stepping forward and using Nathaniel's outstretched hand to haul him to his feet.  "It's good to have you with us, Arl Howe.  But please, until after the Landsmeet, call me Theron."

 "Theron?"  He nodded, looking dazed, and Theron grinned.  "But you were killed.  By darkspawn, I was told."

 Theron chuckled.  "I get that a lot."

 I giggled.  "Rumours of his demise have been greatly exaggerated."

 "But how?"

 "Sierra."  Theron nodded at me.  "She saved my life at Ostagar.  Duncan, the Warden Commander also survived because of her."

 "Your Maj-" Theron frowned, and Nathaniel cleared his throat and restarted.  "Theron - why haven't you taken your throne back?  Why are you hiding?"

 Aedan answered, "If he'd known Theron was alive, Loghain would have made sure he didn't survive to reach Denerim.  He'd already hired assassins to kill the Grey Wardens; we couldn't take the chance he'd be successful in a second attempt to gain the throne through murder."

 "Not to mention, I sort of needed to know if my wife was involved.  Which it seems, more and more, she likely was."

 Zevran nodded, though Aedan's frown didn't indicate total agreement.  I wasn't sure what to think.  The fact that Anora had stomped out of the room and refused to talk to anyone except Aedan and Eamon if she could get away with it wasn't helping.  Theron's expression was pained, and Nathaniel winced in sympathy.

 "Wait.  You called me Arl Howe."

 "Yes?"  Theron smiled.

 "Don't be disingenuous.  My father certainly lost any rights he had to the Arling, never mind the other titles he claimed."

 "Tell me, Nathaniel: if you had known what your father was doing, would you have gone along with it?"

 "Never."

 "And if you had been here?"

 "I'd have tried to stop him.  Probably been killed before he even took over Highever."

 "So remind me, then, why you should pay for the crimes of your father?"  Theron patted Nate's shoulder, then turned to pace.  "I've been reminded," he glanced at me and I smirked, "that I cannot live my life comparing myself to my father and his legacy.  Why should that be any different for you?  The Arling was yours by rights when Rendon died.  He's dead.  The Arling is yours, if you want it."

 "But..."

 "Prove me right, Nathaniel.  Prove you aren't your father, if you feel the need to, by fixing his mistakes."  Theron turned back to look at Nathaniel.  "You'll have a few houseguests, though.  At least at first."

 Nathaniel frowned, confused.  "Houseguests?"  _I don’t even think he noticed his agreement is being assumed.  Theron isn’t terrible at this manipulation thing._

 "The Grey Wardens.  After the Blight, we have reason to believe they'll be needed in Amaranthine."

 Nathaniel looked at me, then glanced to Aedan and Alistair.  We all nodded encouragingly.

 "Thank you."  He took a knee in front of Theron again, a lot more gracefully.  "I, Arl Nathaniel Howe, do hereby swear my fealty and loyalty to you, Cailan Theirin, and to your heirs, and pledge myself to live honourably and prove your faith in me was not misplaced."  Theron pulled Nate up, and the two men shared a brief, manly hug.  "I will gladly host the Grey Wardens for as long as they choose to stay in Amaranthine."  He turned to me.  "I hope that, at some point, you can help me to understand why they will be needed there?"

 I nodded.  "Does that mean you believe me?"

 "Hard not to," he gestured to my phone, "especially when my King vouches for you, my Lady."  I wrinkled my nose in distaste, and he chuckled.  "Sierra.  Will you be accompanying the Wardens to Amaranthine?"

 Alistair wrapped his arm around my waist possessively, sliding me back into his lap, and I laughed.  "I go where my husband goes."  I tilted my head towards Alistair.  "Literally, whether I want to or not.  So, probably.  I assume."

 "Husband?"

 Theron chuckled.  "Yet another secret.  Please, Nathaniel, we must ask that you keep this - all of this - to yourself.  No one else can know about Sierra, and I must remain anonymous until the Landsmeet."

 "I swear, no one will learn of this from me."  He muttered, "Honestly, who'd believe me anyway?" and we all laughed.


	105. Waiting Game

Chapter One Hundred Five: Waiting Game

 

After a bit more discussion, Theron put his helmet back on and disappeared back into the Barracks.  Nathaniel followed him because, despite his status as an Arl, he wasn't willing to evict any of the current occupants from their rooms, especially the women.  I suspected he was trying to avoid Kallian entirely, and while I couldn’t blame him, it was going to be awkward eventually _.  Might as well get it over with now._

 After that, waiting several days for the Landsmeet was…really, epically, boring.  We went out to the taverns and estates of sympathetic nobles so Aedan and Alistair could meet with them again, with several of us posing as guards.  Alistair, Aedan, Duncan, Theron, Nathaniel, and Eamon met several times to iron out their plans.  In contrast to their first official tavern visit, Alistair remained largely sober, to my relief. 

 Oghren, Bel, and Faren asked permission to leave Denerim and head to the Calenhad docks; I was surprised the ginger dwarf had convinced his fellows to go along with it, but perhaps they were just bored, or being supportive friends.  Despite their initial dislike for the Casteless dwarf, Bel and Gorim had actually become friends with him; Faren was such a good-natured guy, it was hard not to like him.  And Oghren had never cared about Faren’s social status, only whether he could swing a sword.  Once Faren understood he’d been accepted, his bitterness receded and a solid friendship developed.

 I contemplated warning Oghren off of Felsi, but wondered if having a child wouldn’t actually be good for him.  His drinking had moderated to some extent, so he wasn’t so often passing-out-drunk, but I still doubted he was stable emotionally.  I did, however, threaten him to within an inch of his life before he left.

 “Listen, Oghren.  You go and impregnate that girl and then leave her, I’ll personally kick your short ass from here to Orzammar and back.  If I hear about a little dwarven baby with no father near Lake Calenhad, you’d better hope you can run faster scared than I can mad.”

 He laughed loudly and belched in my general direction, but I saw Zevran hand him a suspiciously familiar little vial of contraceptive powder before he left, and I hoped that meant he’d at least thought about it.

 Anora stayed stubbornly in her room, apparently angry with Aedan and unwilling to face us, the unwashed masses.  Zevran tailed Erlina, and was quite convinced that she was using a drop site to pass messages, but he wasn’t able to intercept any of them.

 “She’s good,” he stated, almost looking impressed.  “I can’t be sure exactly where the drop happens, and all of the possible locations are protected from snooping.”

 “She’s a bard,” Leliana agreed. “Well-trained.  The thing I don’t know is whether she is working for Anora, or against her.”

 “I’d hope Anora would vet her inner circle well enough at least to be sure she isn’t working for Orlais,” Aedan mused. 

 Theron just glowered.

 She did call me in to talk to her a couple of days into the wait.  I went in determined to act the meek, unassuming, stupid noblewoman, while simultaneously sidestepping any direct questions and avoiding anything resembling the truth.  The invitation was for me alone, so I wouldn’t even have Aedan there to help out.  Eamon was positively piddling in his drawers, convinced I’d mess up and give away everything. 

 Leliana helped me dress up as a proper noblewoman, in a dress with a corset – which I hated – and my hair braided in an ornate style.  I took Kallian with me as my ‘handmaiden’, after double-checking with her that she didn’t mind the ruse; I hoped she could help me if I ended up in too much trouble.  Just having a friendly face around would hopefully help, and Kallian seemed to hold no deep respect for the Queen after her experience with Fereldan nobility, which couldn’t hurt.

 It was with significant trepidation that I knocked on the door to Anora’s room.  Erlina answered and ushered us in, and I stepped inside and then curtseyed to the best of my ability – which admittedly wasn’t much.  Erlina frowned, but Anora seemed to ignore my fumbling attempt at courtesy.  She held out her hand, which I briefly touched without squeezing, as Leliana had shown me.

 “Lady Cousland,” Anora murmured.  “Thank you for joining me.”

 “Your Majesty.  It is my honour.  Please, call me Sierra.  Lady Cousland is how I think of my mother.”

 I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact, instead glancing around the room.  Anora’s room was larger than the one I theoretically shared with Solona, even bigger than Alistair’s.  Somewhere she’d found two small tables and some chairs, and there was tea set up at both – a fancy set at one table, which also boasted a silk tablecloth with a beautiful floral centerpiece, and a plainer set at the smaller table clearly meant for ‘the help’.  I stifled my grimace and turned my attention back to Anora, who was watching me closely.

 “Yes, your mother.  Dear Eleanor.  She and I were friends, did you know that?  She helped me greatly after I came to Denerim as a girl.  I was very sad to learn about her…”

 “Murder?”  Anora flinched, and I winced.  “Sorry.  It’s a touchy subject, your Majesty.  I never got to meet my parents before they died.”

 “So you said.”  She gestured to the table, and we both sat down while Erlina and Kallian fussed with our dresses and poured us tea.  “I admit, I’m curious how that came to be?”

 “I don’t honestly know, your Majesty.  The people who raised me either didn’t know, or never said.  I only knew I was the Cousland’s daughter and that I had a twin brother.”  I took a small sip of tea as an excuse to keep avoiding eye contact.

 “And do you have proof of this bloodline?”

 “No.  Not that it matters for Aedan or me.”

 She gave me a strange look, but changed the subject anyway.  “And where were you raised, did you say?”

 I wasn’t fooled; Anora knew I hadn’t said, but was hoping to catch me in a lie.  “I didn’t say.  Far away from here.  I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say exactly where.”

 “Not at liberty to say?  Why ever not?”

 “The people who raised me would prefer to remain unknown.  It could be dangerous for them if someone sought to use them – or me – against my brother or, since he joined, the Grey Wardens _.”  I wonder if she has any idea that I’m lying through my teeth?  Hopefully she puts it down to evading her questions._

 “Or Alistair.”

 I glanced up, surprised she was so forward, but looked away quickly.  “Yes, your Majesty.”  I cursed internally as I felt my cheeks flush.

 “Theirin men can be charming, no?  So handsome, so sweet.”

 I looked up again to see Anora watching me with a hint of amusement behind a predatory smile.  “As you say, your Majesty.”

 “My Cailan was like that, as was Maric.  They could charm the birds from the trees when they put their minds to it.  Though Cailan preferred charming the smalls from young, vulnerable women instead.  A trait it seems he and Alistair share?”

 I opened my mouth to deliver a scorching reply, but stopped at a panicked look from Kallian.  I closed my mouth again and hummed noncommittally. 

 Anora chuckled.  “Oh, ho, it seems he was more successful than I assumed!  Could it be you actually care for him?”

 “I do, yes.”  It wasn’t like she couldn’t tell; admitting it didn’t really hurt me.

 “And yet, Aedan insists you have no interest in being his Queen.”

 “I would be terrifically unsuited to it, your Majesty.”

 “Interesting.  Some may not believe that to be true – if you are, as you say, the only daughter of the Teyrn of Highever, some may think just your bloodline would make you quite suitable.”

 “I’m not much for believing in the power of blood.  I think we should earn positions of power by proving our ability.”

 “And glad I am to hear that!  As such, I’m sure you can see the benefit to supporting me.  My bloodline may not be what traditionalists such as Eamon believe to be necessary, but clearly it would be a better bet than placing poor Alistair on the throne, unprepared and untried?”

 I was taken aback by her blatant campaigning for my support.  She’d been blunt in game, of course, but I thought they couldn’t possibly have portrayed her right.  It was almost laughable.  “I don’t-“

 She cut me off.  “And there are benefits for yourself, as well, of course.  If he were safely removed from the succession, Alistair would be free to be with you, instead of giving you up for the Crown.  Surely you can see I am the better option.”

 I tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to hide my grin.  Kallian, worried that I would give myself away, ostentatiously spilled her tea, causing Erlina to cry out and scurry for towels to soak up the hot liquid.  By the time that was cleaned up, I’d managed to control my expression.

 “I could not oppose my brother, your Majesty.  I believe he knows what is best.  If he thinks a Theirin should be King, I’ll not disagree with him.”

 “Even to your own detriment?  Even given a better alternative?  You seem an educated woman, Sierra.  Do you truly believe it takes a man to rule a country?  That some mythical connection to Calenhad and dragon blood makes a good leader?  My husband had the same bloodline, but he was a well-meaning fool.  This country does not need more well-meaning fools.  Platitudes will not drive Ferelden to recover.”

 I was getting angry at her constant disparaging of Cailan and Alistair.  I shouldn’t have been surprised – I recalled her in game saying something about Alistair being ‘biddable’ but essentially useless – but the audacity of saying so in front of someone who’d already admitted to having genuine feelings for the man was more than stupid.  And I really, really couldn’t leave her with the delusion that I thought she was unsuitable because she was female.

 “I think you didn’t hear my entire statement from earlier, your Majesty.  I do not believe men are better suited than women.  I do not believe an accident of parenting defines who will be good at a job.  I judge people based on their own merits – their accomplishments, and their abilities.”

 She opened her mouth to interject, and I held up one finger to forestall her.  “Please, let me finish.  I cannot judge Cailan’s actions, given that I wasn’t present to see them for myself.  I have, however, seen both your actions and Alistair’s.  In the few months I’ve known him, Alistair has distinguished himself in battle, helped gather the armies that will defeat the darkspawn threatening this country, has befriended the Queen of Orzammar, and earned the friendship and loyalty of all of those around him.  He has proven himself a man of action, someone who will suffer great personal risk and loss for his loved ones and his country.”

 I stood, stepping away from the table slightly, putting my cup down gently on the saucer.  “During that same period of time, with many times more power and influence than the ‘unprepared, untried bastard’ you’ve been complaining about, you have allowed Rendon Howe to slaughter my parents in their home and then take over the Arling of Denerim, not only tacitly allowing his treason but rewarding him for it.  You allowed the son of the former Arl of Denerim to kidnap, rape, torture, and kill dozens of citizens from your city, and then allowed him to be captured in turn and killed in his own dungeon. 

 “You watched as your father abandoned your husband on the battle field, watched again as he began a civil war to grab for power, weakening Ferelden's defenses against the Blight, watched as he hunted and tried to kill the last remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden.  You watched him close the borders to the other Wardens, poison any political figures who could challenge his power, and in the end, you betrayed those who tried to rescue you when your inaction failed to keep you safe from either Howe or your father.

 “In what way have any of your actions shown any ability, whatsoever, to lead?  To be the Queen this country needs?  You have no accomplishments to boast of, beyond that the administrative functions of the government ran well during Cailan’s reign.  This country does not need an administrator, your Majesty.  You say you could stop none of what happened – but with your power, your influence, how could you not?  Ferelden will need a strong hand, some serious reforms, and a leader willing not only to get her hands dirty, but also to stand up for her citizens and protect them from within and without.  And I’m afraid you just don’t have a record of proving you’re capable of or willing to do any of that.”

 Anora stood, face flushed with anger, eyes flashing.  Her voice was surprisingly level when she replied; I almost expected her to screech in her rage.

 “And you think you are capable of doing what you believe I have not?”

 “No, your Majesty.  I told you.  I know I’m not.  Which is why I will never be the Queen of Ferelden.  This isn’t about power, not for me.  I grew up without any, and I don’t want it now.  The only thing I want is for the country I have come to love to be free from the Blight.  For its citizens to be protected from anyone who wishes to harm them, be they Orlesians, darkspawn, or entitled nobility who see them only as pawns to be used for personal gain.  Power isn’t what’s important.”

 “Power is always what is important.”

 “And that’s why you don’t deserve it.”  I turned away, and then turned back, repeating my awkward curtsey from earlier.  “Your Majesty, with your permission, I find myself feeling quite tired.  I believe I shall go have a rest.”

 She nodded stiffly, and I turned and walked out the door, Kallian at my heels.  Before I got two steps down the hallway, she hurled an insult at my back.  “Enjoy that ‘nap’ with your bastard while you can.  Even without the throne getting between you, it’s only a matter of time before he tires of you anyway.”

 I paused, briefly, before resuming my walk.  The door slammed behind me, and I heard a muffled scream, followed by the crashing sound of china being thrown.  I heard a chuckle from behind me, and whirled to see Zevran emerge from the shadows in a corner.

 “Ah, cara mia, I’m not sure Eamon will be so thrilled with your little monologue to our illustrious Queen, but I found it enjoyable.  It seems the tea set may have taken it personally, however.”

 I laughed.  “I hope she threw the cheap one, not the fancy one.  Isolde isn’t going to be happy if Anora wrecked her favourite tea pot.”  Kallian snickered, and then excused herself and walked away, leaving me with the Antivan.

 “Are you all right?”

 I sighed.  “I should have known better than to lose my temper.  You have to give me credit, though, for not spilling too much truth about my origin or what I know…she just really pushed my buttons.”

 “Your…what?”

 “I mean she just poked at me until I was so angry I lost it.  Do you really think she believed I would side with her?”

 “I don’t think she discounted the possibility, Bellissima, but no, I don’t think that was her goal.”

 “Then what?  What would she gain from pissing me off?”

 “People who are angry often reveal more than they intend.  I suspect she hoped to learn more about you, as well as Eamon’s – or Aedan’s – strategy for the Landsmeet.”

 “All she had to do was ask for that.  I’d have told her – totally discredit Loghain, and her, if she betrays us.  It’s not rocket science.”

 “Rocket…?”

 “Apparently when I’m upset I revert to Earth jargon.  I mean that it isn’t complicated.”

 “Everything is complicated for a politician, my dear.”

 I sighed.  “I suppose.  Now I’m going to go take a bath.  I feel icky after that conversation.”

 “You certain you don’t need someone to wash your back, bella donna?”  He winked at me.

 I giggled.  “I sure do.  Have you seen Alistair anywhere?”

 Zevran groaned and theatrically clutched his chest in mock pain, and I chuckled all the way to the dining room, where I found Alistair and dragged him away from his card game amidst good-natured ribbing.

 When Aedan and Eamon questioned me later about our meeting, with Theron in the room, I thought Theron would choke, he was so angry.  “A well-meaning fool?”  He paced back and forth, running his hands through his long blond locks in agitation.  “I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose, because it’s what she needs everyone to believe in order to take the throne alone.  But isn’t there supposed to be some sort of prohibition about speaking ill of the dead?”

 None of us had any answer for that.

 Eamon was unimpressed about my rant, as predicted, but Aedan brushed it off.  “Anora knew I had no intention of supporting her at the Landsmeet.  She may not know our true plans, but that doesn’t change anything.  If Sierra’s correct, she was going to betray us from the moment I refused to support her.  Nothing that Sierra said will affect any of that.”

 I was relieved he wasn’t angry, even if Eamon still hadn’t said anything pleasant or looked at me with anything more than a disdainful frown on his face since my wedding.

 No one but the servants saw Anora again until just before the Landsmeet

 Two days before the Landsmeet, Riordan, Dougal, and Conrad returned from scouting.  They thought they had located two Deep Roads exits the darkspawn were using in the Korcari Wilds, and had seen some of the horde massing south of Lothering.  The town had been razed and then abandoned, and while there were roving raiding parties into the bannorn – presumably stealing women to turn into broodmothers – most of the horde had spread out in the Wilds and to the southwest of Redcliffe.  There had been no sign of the Archdemon.

 With Duncan, the Wardens had chosen an area in the Southern Bannorn to face the might of the horde as it marched on Denerim.  A contingent would be left outside of Redcliffe to defend the town and castle from the feint, but the rest of the combined armies would amass on the plains, completely blocking the main Imperial Highway – the only decent pass leading to Denerim that wouldn’t require several days extra travel to go through the Brecilian Forest.  A group of Dalish would scout to the East, however, to send for reinforcements in case the Brecilian was targeted.  And Theron planned to evacuate Denerim anyway, just in case the horde broke through.

 The three men blended quite seamlessly with our group, settling into bunks in the barracks without complaint and spending most of their time training, sparring with each other or Eamon’s soldiers, or playing guard like the rest of us.  Dougal, by far the oldest in the group even including Eamon and Duncan, became the unofficial grandfather, good-naturedly teasing everyone and sitting with Wynne to talk about ‘the old days’ and complain about the young’uns.  Conrad picked up where he’d left off flirting with Morrigan, Leliana, Solona, Erlina, and anyone else who caught his eye, though I noticed he left both Kallian and me strictly alone.  I was grateful, not wanting to have to deal with a jealous Alistair, and I wondered whether he was clever enough to realise any advances towards Kallian would be unwelcome, or if someone had warned him off.  Either way, I was pleased, though Anders was less so when he caught the red-headed Warden hitting on Solona.

 Anders and Solona seemed to have worked something out between them; I didn’t think they were sleeping together, but the two were inseparable during the day.  Anders’ hovering had become actual interaction, and the two were sickeningly cute, staring at each other all day long, all moon-eyes and sighs.  _Apparently almost getting killed really is the key to forgiveness_.  I thought of Aedan and Zevran, who were equally besotted, and smiled.

 Kallian tried hard to seem unobtrusive as much as possible at the estate, constantly around Wulf or at least one of the women.  She acted subservient when anyone else was around, but came out of her shell in small groups of familiar people, and I thought she might eventually be okay.  She avoided spending time with any of the human men, though Theron did manage to pull her into a long discussion about the conditions in the Alienage and what could be done to improve the lives of its residents.  I was happy to see her animated responses as she made suggestions, gesturing widely as she made a point.  _I wonder if she knows who she’s talking to like they’re equals._   I certainly wasn’t going to tell her.

 Wulf spent all his time broodily watching Kallian with his startling, mismatched eyes.  _I hope that doesn’t end badly._

 I went to the Chantry, taking Leliana and Kallian with me, and met with Mother Boann.  She was younger than I thought she'd be, and refreshingly forward, asking straight up what we wanted with her, specifically.  Kallian thanked her for trying to intervene during her kidnapping in the Alienage, and then I explained that from what I'd heard, she was one of a very few in the Chantry who cared for the well-being of the elves, even if she was limited in what she could do for them.

 I asked if she would consider establishing a school for the children of the elves.  My plan was for her to accept those of any age and begin with learning to read, then basic math, and perhaps a little bit of history and culture.  And possibly even provide a meal each day to ensure the children were at least occasionally well-fed.

 “If you didn’t want to do it, you could hire someone to teach,” I told her.  “I am willing to cover expenses for supplies for a while, and would consider paying someone to teach.  And I think at least the Hahren, and maybe some of the better educated elves, should be encouraged to be involved, teaching their own histories.”

 Mother Boann was taken aback, but flattered that we had come to her; she felt she could probably teach the basics, though she may need help later on, but was unsure if she could convince the Grand Cleric of the importance of the project.  I encouraged her to remind the Grand Cleric that she could teach some of the Chantry’s history as well, encouraging the elves to be more devout – and to tell her that I would offer the Chantry a ‘donation’ for the running of the school.

 The Mother told me she would discuss it with the Grand Cleric and let me know after the Blight was ended.

 Blake became Theron’s eyes and ears, for the most part.   He would have been a formidable spy; everyone ignored him when he was in the room.  He openly eavesdropped on Eamon, Teagan, and Anora, and while he hadn’t overheard anything too startling, he certainly had unfettered access to the entire estate.  I spent a bit of time with him making sure he was settled, and he was still having reading lessons with Theron daily.  He’d taken to everything – the reading, his responsibilities helping Theron, the spying (and certainly the food) – with alacrity.  I was impressed at how quickly he learned, once he no longer lived in constant fear.  The job as Theron’s manservant, which started out as only a way to get him out of Redcliffe, became an enjoyable challenge, and I wondered in the end which of Blake and Theron would end up having helped the other more.

 Morrigan spent most of her time flying outside of the city; she had agreed, with some encouragement from me and Aedan, to teach Dariel to shapeshift into a bird – we all knew we could use one more aerial scout.

 As the Landsmeet loomed, Alistair and I made love every night, and not infrequently even more often than that.  I couldn’t have said why we were both nervous – he was not to be King, and I knew at least roughly how things would end – but the closer we got to the day, the more desperate and insatiable we both were.

 I justified it to myself that Anora would see it as normal, at least – the two of us clinging together before we had to be separated by duty.

 The day of the Landsmeet, we got up early, everyone bathing and getting cleaned up, dressing up in our most formal armour.  The Wardens wore their tabards, except for Alistair; his dragonbone had been polished to a shine, his hair freshly trimmed by Leliana, his face freshly shaved.  The rest of us wore our own tabards over our armour, the ones that identified us as companions.  Theron wore plain but good quality armour, and Leliana also freshened up his haircut.

 Zevran came to inform us that Anora and Erlina were already gone.  They’d left earlier, or possibly even in the night.  Everyone else was uptight at the revelation; I couldn’t even be surprised.  _She had to find herself someplace to hide, after all, so she could make her grand entrance._   I snorted in disgust and encouraged everyone else not to worry about it.

 The dwarves had not yet returned, and we planned to leave Sten, Shale, and the mages outside of the Landsmeet chamber, and Wulf and Kallian at Eamon’s; that left thirteen of us actually attending the Landsmeet.  Zevran, Leliana, Riordan, Conrad, Dougal, Duncan, and I were to spread out throughout the chamber, alert and armed but not part of the proceedings; Eamon and Teagan would leave early to take their places among the other nobles.  The rest: Alistair, Aedan, Nathaniel, and Theron, would enter together and stay on the floor, the likely centre of attention.  Theron would keep his helmet on, as would the Orlesian Wardens, Zev, Leli, and I, so as to make it less conspicuous.

 Before we left, I covered the process again with the group, reminding them that we would likely face Cauthrien on our way in, but trusting Aedan to talk her down; once inside, we needed to let Anora and Loghain talk long enough to hang themselves before we intervened.  The only one I was truly concerned about was Theron; I hoped he’d learned the control that would be necessary to listen to the things Anora and Loghain said without revealing himself. 

  _He isn’t the man he was before the Blight, right?  He can keep it together for the sake of Ferelden.  I hope…_

 With one last deep breath, and one last sweet kiss from Alistair, I jammed my helmet on my head and set out, with the others, for the Landsmeet.


	106. Landsmeet

Chapter One Hundred Six: Landsmeet

 

It was a long walk across the city to the Landsmeet, and we’d had to get up way too early.  I cursed the lack of technology again. _I miss cars.  And traffic lights.  Who’d ever have thought I’d miss traffic lights?_   Denerim could definitely use them, with people, wagons, carriages, and beasts of burden everywhere, as there were.  While we could have taken a carriage, given the crowded, narrow streets of Denerim, it wouldn’t have been much faster.   

 I was used to the walking – spending months on foot traversing Ferelden ensured my level of fitness could take it – but trying to get anywhere quickly was nigh-impossible.  I sighed and just kept going.

 The Landsmeet chamber was attached to, but separate from, the Palace.  Everyone had to enter through the main doors – there was no favouritism for the reigning monarch, so no special entrances, and every noble house held a vote in the Landsmeet, though as I understood it, the minor nobility and non-landowners usually gave their proxy to their respective liege lords.  Still, there were always expected to be dozens of nobles present, more for such an unusual circumstance as a debate over who would take the throne. 

 Teagan and Eamon separated from us, leaving their guards outside with the other nobles’ guards in a post designed just for that purpose.  The rest of us waited a few minutes, until it began to sleet, the late winter weather unpredictable and uncomfortable, and as a group we surged toward the doors.  Once inside, those who were to remain outside of the chamber in case we needed backup peeled off and found themselves an alcove in the foyer.  The rest of us, shaking off the water, headed toward the ornate doors leading to the Landsmeet chamber itself.  Aedan, Alistair, and Nathaniel led the way; I stood at the back of our group, and could not hear the conversation when Cauthrien stepped out of her own alcove and confronted us.  She spoke with Aedan for a while, finally bowing formally and stepping back to let us pass.

 I felt sorry for her; whether Loghain was her father or not, he was her liege, her hero, and in less than a year she’d watched him fall from a man to be respected, even revered, to a treasonous, obsessive, insane reflection of who he had been.  It couldn’t have been easy.

 Finally the doors opened, and we filed in.  As we’d agreed, most of us spread out and headed into the crowd of lower nobility on the floor, those without the standing to have a dais or alcove for themselves.  The remaining four – Alistair, Aedan, Nathaniel, and Theron – walked through the crowd, which slowly parted in curiosity to let them through.

 I headed left, leaning against the wall below the empty alcove that had evidently belonged to my parents.  It gave me a good view of Eamon and Teagan, the Grand Cleric – a wrinkled prune of a woman I immediately was sure I’d hate – Elemena, Arl Bryland, Bann Alfstanna, and the others who would be critical in the upcoming discussion.  Duncan was opposite me, below Eamon’s balcony; the others were scattered throughout the room as well. The floor was far more crowded than it had been in game, and I wondered if it was more to do with the game’s details being vague, or whether it was because of the number of nobles who’d survived, that hadn’t in game.  It was clear, based on the many derisive looks being shot at Loghain, that there was far more enmity towards him than the game would have led me to believe.

 Eamon was saying the line I expected from the game – disparaging Loghain, of course – his impassioned speech drawing some cheers and a bunch of chatter on the floor.  Loghain had the temerity to be standing in Cailan’s spot right in front of the throne up on the royal dais.  Hardly surprising, but I wasn’t the only person who noticed the placement – I saw several nobles gesturing to him and whispering amongst themselves, overhearing a few words, like ‘King Loghain’ said in a scornful voice.  He stepped down, perhaps in response, responding sarcastically to Eamon’s accusations, when he noticed Aedan, Alistair, Nathaniel, and Theron pushing their way to the front of the crowd.

 When he hit the bottom of the stairs, Loghain called out, “Ah!  And here, we have the puppeteer.  Tell us, Warden, how will the Orlesians take our nation from us?  Will they deign to send their troops, or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince?  What did they offer you?  How much is the price of Ferelden honour now?”

 Alistair stepped forward before Aedan could, and responded, “The Blight is the real threat here, _Teyrn_ Loghain, not Orlais.”  The scorn placed on Loghain’s title was obvious, but he kept a straight face.  I was immensely proud, and for one minute, a stupid grin plastered itself to my face.

 Alfstanna and Wulff jumped in, agreeing vehemently, and then Loghain began to reply, confirming the Blight but questioning whether Wardens were needed to end it.

Aedan interrupted him, going completely off script, which amused me for some dark reason – I’d always wanted free reign to shout at Loghain in game, and finally Aedan had it.

 My brother knew how to speak in public, his education as a noble’s son obvious; he stepped forward, pitching his voice loud so it practically reverberated through the room; for the first time since we’d entered, all of the nobles stopped whispering amongst themselves and listened.

 “You don’t know the answer to that question, Loghain, because you never bothered to ask, or to listen.  The truth is, Lords and Ladies, that Grey Wardens are the only ones who can kill the Archdemon.  Cailan knew that.”  A little white lie, I supposed, that wouldn’t hurt.  “So in effect, Loghain sending the Wardens to their deaths at Ostagar, and sending assassins after the remaining two who survived his betrayal, almost ended any chance Ferelden had at defeating the Blight.

 “And all this so he could try to seize power before anyone could oppose him; he even sent his men around the country, declaring him King Loghain to anyone who would listen.”

 Loghain tried to respond, but angry muttering which started out quietly soon became a roar of furious shouting.  Aedan was able to raise his voice further, booming out over the noise, and they quieted again.

 “And we know you were working with Rendon Howe, Loghain.  He was many things, but he was not stupid; unless he knew in advance that King Cailan would not be coming home, he would not have felt secure in attacking Highever, massacring my family, or in taking over the Arling of Denerim and killing Vaughn Kendalls, the rightful heir, never mind torturing nobles and templars in his dungeon.”

 Bann Sighard shouted out, confirming that his son had been tortured; the angry muttering increased in volume again, and Loghain actually took a nervous step back from the seething crowd.

 Loghain, trying to regain control, replied, “Howe was responsible for himself.  He will answer to the Maker for any wrongs committed in this life, as must we all.  But you know that – you were the one who murdered him.  Whatever Howe may have done, he should have been brought before the Seneschal.  There is no justice in butchering a man in his home.”

 Nathaniel stepped forward, and as one, the crowd fell silent.  “Actually, I killed him, Loghain.”  Nate turned and faced the crowd.  “I am Nathaniel Howe.  I was warned that my father had gone mad, and I returned from the Free Marches to see the truth for myself.  When my father realised that I opposed his actions, he captured me, torturing me just as he did Oswyn.”  He nodded to Bann Sighard.  “I am sorry for his actions with your son, my Lord. 

 “I was forced to endure, while my father gloated how he had Loghain in his pocket, how once he had broken me, he would force Anora to marry me and then a Howe would be King.  When the Grey Wardens rescued me from captivity, I accompanied them to the dungeon, and it was I who put him down like the rabid dog he had become.

 “Justice would not have been served by bringing him to your Seneschal, when he was undoubtedly in on the whole thing.  When an animal develops a taste for human flesh, it must be killed, and my father was just such an animal, at the end.  He deserved no other outcome, and neither do you.”

 There were assorted indignant cries at the revealed information, and someone at the back actually threw something at Loghain – I thought it might be a prune, or perhaps a small plum – he dodged, and it landed wetly on the floor behind him.  The crowd surged forward, and it seemed they might actually be angry enough to rip the man apart with their bare hands.  I caught Zevran’s eye – he was fingering his daggers, working his way towards a scowling, pock-faced man who had gripped his sword and looked to be debating pulling it to defend Loghain.

 Aedan shouted out again and the crowd paused to listen once more.  “Besides, Loghain, you would speak of justice?  What justice was there in sending a blood mage to poison Arl Eamon, the one noble other than my father most likely to stand up against you?  Are we expected to believe it was a happy accident for you that both of the families who could oppose you were conveniently out of the way? What justice was there in trying to have the Grey Wardens assassinated?  In fomenting rebellion within the Circle?”

 Loghain sneered and replied, “I assure you Warden, if I were going to send someone to poison a noble, it would be my own soldiers.  I would not trust to the discretion of an apostate.  Nor would I consort with hired assassins or Circle Mages.”

 Alfstanna stepped forward again.  “Indeed?  My brother tells a very different tale.  He says you snatched a blood mage from the Chantry’s justice.  Coincidence?”

 “Do not think the Chantry will overlook this, Teyrn Loghain.  Interference in a Templar’s sacred duties is an offense against the Maker,” the wrinkled prune shouted, and there was more unhappy murmuring from the crowd.

 Aedan followed that up with his own reply.  “I have the maleficar you hired, as well as the assassin; They can testify, if the Landsmeet feels that to be necessary.”

 One again, people started arguing amongst themselves, the noise rising to almost unbearable levels, when Loghain let out a wordless roar.  “Enough!” he shouted, when everyone stopped to look at him.  “Whatever I have done, I will answer for later.  At the moment, however, I wish to know what this Warden has done with my daughter?”

 Alistair actually laughed.  “What have _we_ done?  We protected her from you, from torture at Rendon Howe’s hands, from a forced sham marriage that would have given Rendon Howe complete control over the throne.  She hadn’t been seen since long before we came to town, Loghain.”

 “You took my daughter, our Queen, by force, killing her guards in the process.  What arts have you employed to keep her?  Does she even still live?”

 “I believe I can speak for myself.  Lords and Ladies of Ferelden, hear me.  This Warden has slandered and defamed Ferelden’s greatest hero in a bid to put an imposter on Maric’s throne.”

 Theron stiffened, then I saw him irritably rub at his helmet with his hand, the closest to a face-palm he could manage through the metal face shield.  Aedan looked at Anora, where she emerged from her hiding place, his excellent acting skills evident as he stared open-mouthed in disbelief.  Alistair’s lips moved, and I knew he’d be muttering something about not being surprised she’d betrayed us again.  The entire Landsmeet seemed to gasp in shock…or, looking at the outrage on the faces of many of the nobles, perhaps it was disbelief.

 Aedan scoffed.  “Perhaps, instead of being rescued, you’d have preferred being killed by your father’s lackey or forced into a marriage allowing Rendon Howe to be the real power behind the throne?”

 “I know my father.  He would never do less than his utmost for the sake of his country, but I needed to know your mind, Warden.  You could have proven yourself an ally of Ferelden.  It is unfortunate for all of us that you did not.”

 “And here I thought you might have some dedication to preserving Cailan’s legacy, Anora,” Alistair drawled, a sneer on his face.  “All we have done is to protect my brother’s country from your father’s madness!”

 “Cailan was nothing but a fool, a man-sized child.  Just because someone means well, does not make him fit to lead, any more than you are!” 

 Angry muttering was the result of her poorly thought-out comment; I face-palmed as Theron twitched again.  _Stupid move, Anora.  How many times will it take before you realise that bad-mouthing Cailan won’t benefit you?_  

 I knew this farce wouldn’t continue much longer.

 Loghain shouted over the grumbling.  “Who here can say that Anora is not fit to rule this land?  And who can say that this Alistair is?  We know nothing of him, save that he may have royal blood.  For five years, Anora has been queen...”

 Theron finally stepped forward, interrupting Loghain with an outstretched hand.  He reached up to remove his helmet even as he began to speak.

 “I believe I can answer that question.”  He shook his hair out, golden strands falling into place in his signature style; he handed his helmet to Alistair, who took it without hesitation, and immediately knelt.  Aedan and Nathaniel also knelt; the rest of us watched, seeing if anyone would make a move towards Cailan.  “I am, after all, the king.”

 I almost cheered as Anora’s mouth fell open, her face blanching in shock – or horror.  Loghain just looked sour, like he smelled something bad.  Both continued staring at Cailan, apparently too surprised to react in any other way.

 “Lords and Ladies of the Landsmeet.  I was rescued at Ostagar by a loyal Fereldan who witnessed Loghain’s withdrawal and came to my aid.  I have hidden, ever since, at first to recover from my injuries, and then because I feared for Ferelden should Teyrn Loghain learn of my survival and make another attempt on my life.  Alistair, who is indeed Maric’s son and my half-brother, permitted this deception of trying to take the throne to allow me to hide and survive long enough to reach here and speak to you now.”

 Slowly at first, but then faster and faster, nobles standing in the Landsmeet began falling to their knees, kneeling to welcome home their reigning monarch.  A few, with angry scowls on their faces, looked to Loghain for direction, before reluctantly kneeling.  Even the soldiers scattered throughout the crowd, clearly on Loghain’s payroll, slowly took their hands off their weapon hilts before kneeling; finally, relieved, the rest of our party followed suit.

 Cailan stepped up beside Anora, shooting her a sardonic smile.  “Please stand.  I thank you for your welcome home!”  The crowd chuckled, and Cailan smiled.  “As Loghain said, for five years, Anora has been queen, and a capable administrator she appeared to be.  But at the first sign of trouble, before the impact of our loss at Ostagar could even be evaluated, she required a regent to ensure the country remained functional, a regent who immediately began a civil war.  A regent who attempted to seize the throne for himself, while Anora did nothing.” 

 He turned to Anora sadly.  “Once, I trusted you.  Once, I believed you were infinitely more capable, more deserving of the throne than I ever could be.  I’m sorry that you proved me wrong.”

 Anora’s face paled even further, if that was possible, and I wondered if she was replaying everything she had said in front of ‘Theron’ back at Eamon’s estate. 

 She reached her hand out toward him, voice shaky.  “Cailan, I-“ 

 He shrugged her hand off his arm, effectively silencing her.  He turned back to the crowd.  “I am back to regain my Father’s throne, and to rectify the mistakes that have been made in my absence.  Do I have the support of the Landsmeet to begin again, to fight for Ferelden?” 

 There was an overwhelming roar of approval from the Landsmeet, and no one thought to call a proper vote given how clear the support for Cailan was.  I wondered how much of that enthusiasm was simple relief that anyone other than Loghain would be in power; it didn’t matter, as long as they’d follow him.

 When the noise died down, Cailan turned back to his father-in-law.  “Teyrn Loghain, I may have been able to rationalise your withdrawal at Ostagar – losing the entire army to save the King, as I recall, was something my father explicitly forbade you from repeating – though as one woman proved, all was not nearly as hopeless at Ostagar as you seemed to believe.  I can overlook that mistake.  However, the other things you have done, before and since – allowing Rendon Howe to perpetrate his atrocities, rewarding him for them, poisoning Eamon Guerrin, fomenting rebellion in the Circle of Magi, beginning a civil war, trying to have the remaining Wardens assassinated – those I cannot conscience.

 “My Lords and Ladies, the Teyrn has perpetrated treason against the entirety of Ferelden.  In light of my prolonged absence, I would ask your support in declaring him guilty, and sentencing him to be hung by the neck until dead at dawn tomorrow.”

 Anora gasped and recoiled, while Loghain, mouth still agape at Cailan’s unveiling, looked around the room for support, and, not seeing any, slowly slumped to his knees in defeat.  The Landsmeet, now all back on their feet, muttered amongst themselves, but it was easy to see that, at least in this matter, Cailan would not lack support.  Alfstanna was the first to speak.

 “I, for one, agree wholeheartedly with the sentence.  Waking Sea votes guilty.  And may I say: welcome home, Your Majesty.”

 Cailan smiled and nodded, blushing slightly.  The rest of the nobles began hurriedly adding in their agreement, none of them wanting to be seen as colluding with Loghain.  Even Ceorlic, the snake I knew was attached firmly by the lips to Loghain’s ass, voted guilty.  Loghain slumped even further, not even deigning to make his speech from the game, seeming to understand that not even his own men stood with him.

 When the last vote was cast, Cailan glanced around, sharing nods with Aedan and Alistair, before turning back to Loghain.

 “Very well.  Loghain, by decree of this Landsmeet, your title and lands have been stripped, your property forfeit to the Crown.  You will be held in Fort Drakon overnight, and at dawn, hung from the city gates until dead.”

 “No!” cried Anora, but Cailan waved her off again as she rushed over to her father.

 “Your Majesty,” a voice rang out, and everyone shuffled to look around as Duncan stepped forward.  “If I may?  I have a suggestion.”

 Cailan nodded, as Duncan knelt in front of the dais Cailan shared with a thunderstruck Anora and a defeated Loghain.  “I am Duncan, Commander of Ferelden’s Grey Wardens,” he announced, for the benefit of those who might not know.  “The Blight is the gravest threat in Ferelden at present, and will require everything that we Wardens and our allies can throw at it.  It seems a waste to sentence this man, once a brilliant general and a capable soldier, to death, when his skills could be used to combat the Blight.”

 “What exactly do you propose, Warden Commander?”  Cailan was doing an admirable job of looking surprised and disapproving.  Aedan and Alistair were also demonstrating their acting abilities, looking incensed as though they hadn’t known this very thing would happen.

 “Allow him to join the Grey Wardens, your Majesty.  There, his expertise can be put to good use, and there are… compelling reasons to have as many Grey Wardens in Ferelden as possible.”

 “Yes!” Anora cried.  “Use his skills, Cailan.  The Joining itself can be fatal, can it not?  And if he survives, a life spent dedicated to fighting darkspawn would be a better purpose than hanging.  Surely even your need for revenge would be satisfied by that?”

 Cailan stared at Duncan for a few moments, then shifted his gaze to Loghain.  For his part, the disgraced former Teyrn knelt upright, meeting Cailan’s eyes for the first time, acceptance written on his face.  He was sure, I suspected, that nothing would sway Cailan from his justice, and he accepted his pending death with grace.  _I have to respect him for that, even if only a little._

 Cailan turned back to Duncan, gesturing for him to stand.  “Warden Commander, I will acquiesce to your request on two conditions.”

 Now my interest was piqued; this hadn’t been what we’d discussed at all.  I was only aware of one.  _What other condition could Cailan possibly want to impose?_   I stepped forward unconsciously, watching as Aedan and Alistair exchanged confused glances.

 “Name them, your Majesty, and if they are within my power, they will be done.”  Duncan smirked slightly, and it was clear he had at least guessed, if not known, what would be said.

 “I will not tolerate this traitor in my country, Grey Warden or no.  So my first condition is that, should he survive the Blight, Loghain will be transferred out of Ferelden, and never allowed to return.  If he lives through the Blight, which I very much hope he does not,” he said this with a glare sent Loghain’s way, and the former Teyrn winced, “your order will remove him from my borders.”

 Riordan stepped forward, removing his helmet.  “I am Riordan, Grey Warden of Jader, your Majesty.”  Cailan nodded.  “I pledge that, should he survive, I will take Loghain back to Jader when I leave, where he can live the rest of his life protecting _Orlesians_ from darkspawn.”

 There was a muffled gasp followed by some outright laughter, as Loghain stirred himself to object; he took one look at Cailan’s face, and settled again, scowling.

 “That seems most fitting, Riordan, thank you.”  Cailan smirked, then turned back to Duncan.  “My second condition is that, regardless of whether your new recruit survives, when the Blight is over, you, or other members of your order, will escort my former wife outside of Ferelden’s borders, ensuring she arrives safely at her new home.  Somewhere in Nevarra, I should think, or possibly even the Anderfels – we can make arrangements for the location once the Blight has ended.  I cannot trust the men formerly under Loghain’s command until they have been evaluated, and I would not have her slip away to cause more difficulty.”

 Duncan nodded, reluctantly; there was a pregnant pause as everyone seemed to be watching the drama with bated breath.  Anora stepped towards Cailan again, arms out, expression devastated, one tear artfully flowing down her cheek.  “Cailan, no.  With you back, both of us together…we can fix this.  We can make Ferelden strong again.  You need me!  I can-“

 “No, Anora.  You had your chance.  You have shown me, clearly, how I have failed Ferelden and my father’s memory; I will work to fix my own mistakes.  I thank you for your service to Ferelden for the five years before the Blight, but we are through.”  Cailan turned back to the crown again, looking up toward the little balcony where the withered prune stood.

 “Grand Cleric, your Grace, I, Cailan Theirin, the King of Ferelden, petition you to allow me to put aside Anora Mac Tir, and eventually, Maker-willing, find another queen to rule at my side.”

 “On what charge do you make your petition, your Majesty?”

 “That she is barren, your Grace.  Ferelden will need a royal heir.”  Anora gasped, but no one else even looked surprised.

 “And do you have a new bride chosen at this time?”

 “No, your Grace.  The Blight is my priority.”

 “Then I suggest you choose one soon, your Majesty.  Very well, your petition is granted.  Cailan Theirin, Anora Mac Tir, your marriage is now annulled.  Your Majesty, please attend me at the Cathedral as soon as possible to sign the requisite documents.”

 “No!  This cannot happen!”  Anora shouted.  “I am the Queen!  You need me, Cailan!”

 Cailan nodded to the Grand Cleric, then turned to Riordan.  “Could I ask you and some of your Wardens to escort the former Queen to her chambers?  She will be kept on house arrest until her departure.”

 Riordan nodded, and between him, Dougal, and Conrad, they attempted to grab the sobbing woman, but Anora, pulling herself together, shook off their hands and, spine straight, posture stiff, strode out of the chamber.  Loghain followed, dejectedly.

 Cailan waited until the doors swung shut behind her before turning back to the Landsmeet and clapping his hands.

 “Now, to the other business.  Lords and Ladies, in the absence of a royal heir, I would like to begin with the matter of the succession….”

 By the end of the Landsmeet, Alistair had been recognised as a Prince of Ferelden, worthy of the title ‘your Highness’, even though he was a Grey Warden; Cailan requested Duncan’s approval, and vowed to speak with the First Warden in the Anderfels after the Blight to smooth the waters.  As an extension of that, I was recognised as Alistair’s wife, with Cailan as a witness to the marriage.  It made me a princess, much to my horror, and the laughter of those near enough to hear my outraged denial at the announcement.  Alistair was named as Cailan’s heir, until such a time as Cailan had heirs of his own, with Fergus Cousland next in line should both Theirins die during the Blight.

 Highever was formally returned to the Cousland family, but would be held in trust by the Crown until such a time as Fergus was found, as Aedan declared himself too busy to function as temporary Teyrn.  The Arling of Denerim was left vacant, for now, to be administered by the Crown as well, and the Arling of Amaranthine was officially granted to Nathaniel Howe.

 In light of the empty Teyrnir of Gwaren and the destruction of so much land in the south by darkspawn, Gallagher Wulff, former Arl of West Hills, was granted the Teyrnir.  Two of his sons had already perished, but he yet had a daughter and a third son, so his succession was secure.

 Soldier’s Peak was formally given by the Grey Wardens to the Crown, Duncan declaring that it was in recompense for the Wardens taking part in the rebellion in the time of Sophia Dryden; Cailan immediately leased it back for their use, though he pledged Crown money to ensure it was renovated as befitted a major military installation inside Ferelden.  His condition for the Wardens being allowed to use it was that it would be administrated by a member of the Ferelden nobility – someone with business experience, but no land of their own, someone related to the King.

 I was completely stunned when he turned to me, and named me as the Steward of Soldier’s Peak.  He assured me that after the Blight would be soon enough to take up those responsibilities, and that help would be found to allow me to learn my role.  He assured me that I would not have to issue judgements or sentences for criminals or the like, that I would swear fealty to the Teyrn of Highever, and that any judgements needed would be the responsibility of the Teyrn.

 Alistair looked as thunderstruck as I, but Aedan just smirked.  _I’m going to kill him.  Later._

 He also informed the Landsmeet that, after the Blight, the Wardens would be stationed in and around Amaranthine, with Nathaniel’s approval, until Soldier’s Peak was ready for occupation.

 In many ways, it was like watching Sereda manage the Assembly in Orzammar.  He used everyone’s shock and relief that someone was taking charge to his advantage, managing to pass motions that otherwise would likely have taken days or months to debate.  I was intensely proud of Cailan; he had clearly been plotting for a long time what he would do when he took back the throne.

 


	107. Aftermath

Chapter One Hundred Seven: Aftermath

 

After the Landsmeet, things moved quickly.  Cailan – _it’s really weird to call him that again_ – moved into the Palace, and offered rooms for the Grey Wardens, our companions, and Nathaniel, so we all transferred from Eamon’s.  It was nice, having more space and not having multiple people crammed into one room.  It was also nice to no longer pretend that we weren’t married – Alistair and I were given a large, lavish room in the family wing near Cailan’s rooms, and Aedan and Zevran were next door.  Everyone else had their own rooms down a long corridor, and he assigned us a small dining room where we could meet and share meals.

 Denerim’s Palace was enormous, but surprised me somewhat with its utilitarian style.  The walls and floor were mostly stone, nicely done and sometimes painted, but there were no marble frescoes or whatever else I might have expected in a royal palace.  There were beautiful tapestries on some of the walls depicting moments in Fereldan history, few of which I recognised, but most of the walls were bare except for sconces.

 I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised – in the game, Fereldans were always described as practical and not overly ostentatious, unlike the Orlesians.  The only thing that made the palace truly grand was the scale – it was, by far, the largest building I’d been in, on Earth or on Thedas. 

 There were multiple guest wings, no less than four enormous ballrooms, half a dozen huge dining rooms and many more small ones.  There were sitting rooms, map rooms, gardens, armories, and rooms just for displaying statues of famous Fereldans.  And all of them were done in a lovely, but minimalist style.  However, the bedrooms had beautiful, thick rugs, and beds so soft you could get lost in them, and the family wing had bathing rooms attached to every bedroom with tubs and soaps and bottle after bottle of sweet smelling shampoos.  If they’d only had indoor plumbing, it would have been perfect; as it was, my little shower head worked marvelously, and the staff were thrilled not to have to haul hot water.

 Cailan fired most of the upper-level staff that had worked for Anora, providing some sort of severance package, then had Kallian help him replace them with qualified Alienage elves, for the most part.  Blake stayed on as his manservant, of course, and there were chamberlains and seneschals and Maker knew what other sorts of staff that I didn’t even try to get to know that Cailan hired.  I met the maid responsible for cleaning our rooms, a young, nervous elf named Noni, and the three responsible for serving food in the Warden dining room, and figured they were probably the only ones I needed to know by name.

 Duncan put Loghain and Wulf through the Joining the night of the Landsmeet, and both survived.  Both were given rooms at the palace, which surprised me, but Loghain was apparently to be invited to the strategy meetings and having him stay somewhere else just didn’t make sense.  Cailan apparently treated him as though he didn’t exist most of the time, which was probably for the best, though I heard that one night there had been quite a bit of yelling coming from the direction of Loghain’s room.  No one knew what, exactly, was said, but apparently Loghain was much subdued after that.

 Personally, I avoided Loghain like the plague.  Most of my friends had seen some horrible things done at his behest, but I’d seen Thedas with Cailan and Duncan dead.  Despite knowing, and approving, of his conscription, I still wasn’t sure I’d be able to avoid getting into it with him, and one way or another, that wasn’t going to end well.  We were supposed to be hiding my origin from him – we didn’t need him telling the Orlesians when he was transferred to Jader – so staying away seemed the best policy.  And Aedan wouldn’t even tell me the things he said – like any explanation for the stupid things he’d done since Ostagar – because he figured I’d be unable to resist going to talk to him.

 Duncan had apparently offered the Joining to Kallian, but she declined.  I learned that Cailan had been talking with her and had her convinced to stay and work with him to improve the lives of the elves in the Alienage; I wondered if she’d eventually end up as Bann instead of Shianni.  _Her temperament might be better suited to it, actually…_ We hadn’t seen Shianni at all since our visit to the Alienage, and I wondered what she would do if she didn’t become the Bann.

 Aedan, Alistair, Duncan, Cailan, Loghain, and Eamon spent most of the next few days closeted in meetings to determine the strategy for fighting the darkspawn; the rest of us were left to our own devices, for the most part.  Some of us accompanied Kallian to the Alienage again, recruiting fighters for the King’s new military unit, The Night Elves, named after the elves who’d fought with Maric and Loghain in the rebellion; Leliana dragged me to the market district to window shop for shoes; we had Master Wade make a set of armour for Wulf which was far superior to his old, cobbled together junk.  Boring, but necessary.

 A messenger came to the Palace one night for Wynne – Gorim’s wife was giving birth, and the midwife was concerned it wasn’t going well.  Leliana and I accompanied the mage as we hurried to the small house in the Market District, willing to help in whatever way possible.  Wynne disappeared into Riana’s room, leaving Leliana and I to console an overwrought Gorim.  We heard talking, and then a rather loud argument; the midwife, a chubby middle-aged woman with an impressive scowl, stormed out and left the house, cursing mages to the Void.  Leliana and I exchanged fearful glances, interrupted by Wynne bellowing for help.

 Soon I was boiling a large pot of water and scouring cupboards for clean towels and linens, while Leliana went into Riana’s room to aid Wynne.  They did something – I couldn’t have said what, for which I was thankful – and Riana screamed like the world was ending.  I had to hold Gorim back as he tried to throw himself at the closed door, talking quickly and trying to convince him that Wynne had everything well in hand.  I wasn’t sure I believed it myself, but it seemed to calm Gorim some and he slumped back into his chair.

 At Wynne’s shout I grabbed the water and a huge armful of clean linens and went in, shocked by the blood pooled on the bed and splashing down onto the floor.  It looked like someone had been murdered, and violently at that.  Leliana was holding Riana down, a strip of leather between the dwarf’s teeth to bite down on; Wynne had what looked like one entire arm up inside Riana, the aura of healing magic suffusing the room.  I set down my items, uncertain how to help, just as Wynne slumped and fell heavily to her knees, pulling a very bloody arm out of the petite woman. 

 “Got it,” she sighed, looking happy though incredibly weary, then levered herself to her feet and began scrubbing her hands in the hot water, while I used towels to soak up some of the blood.  When Riana squealed again, Wynne turned back, tiredly, and bent over the end of the bed again.

 “Push now, my dear.  You can do it.”

 And Riana did; her face screwed up, in pain or concentration I couldn’t be sure, and suddenly Wynne was holding a tiny, bloody, squalling infant.  Riana collapsed back in relief, and spat out the leather strip, holding out her arms for her baby; Wynne carefully tied the cord and cut it, wrapping the baby in a towel and handing it to the exhausted mother.

 “It’s a girl.”

 Riana’s face transformed as she beheld the tiny girl, who’d stopped screaming to snuffle adorably at her mother’s chest; her skin was still slightly purple, her head cone-shaped and irregular, but it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  The three of us went to work cleaning up the blood and other fluids, then Wynne ran a quick scan over Riana’s belly and the bundled baby, declaring both to be healthy. 

 Leliana stayed with Riana and the baby, and I accompanied Wynne to talk to Gorim.

 “They are both fine,” she said, and Gorim took a big breath of relief.  “The baby was turned the wrong way, but I was able to turn her; unfortunately, it caused significant bleeding.  I’ve healed her, and she’s safe now, but she lost a lot of blood.  She’s going to be tired, and need a lot of help for a few months.  And she should eat red meat, or liver if you can get it, to help her build her blood back up.”

 Gorim promised to find her liver for every meal if that was what it took, and then he bolted into Riana’s room to see her with his own eyes.  Wynne followed him with an indulgent smile, and I grinned as she took the baby from Riana, tightened the blanket around her, and handed her to a very awkward-looking Gorim. 

 I just about said ‘awwww’ out loud, but managed to stifle it; watching Gorim’s face was seeing someone fall completely in love at first sight.  He may not have been her biological father, but that didn’t seem to matter; he was smitten.  His expression passed through a variety of emotions, from frank fear, to love, to a fierce protective instinct, and Wynne actually had to encourage him to loosen his grasp a little.  It was adorable, and all four of us women exchanged pleased smiles.

 And then Revan wandered in, rubbing his eyes irritably and scowling at the lanterns.  When he saw his little sister, however, he was all smiles, and he climbed into bed beside his mother as they very carefully placed the baby in his arms.  The same array of emotions crossed his little face as Gorim’s, and I had to wipe away a tear as he declared he was her big brother and would protect her forever.

 The three of us finally left, leaving the little family to sort itself into some sort of routine.

 I had only one real chance to talk to Cailan before I left Denerim with the Wardens, leaving Cailan behind.  Alistair and I found him hiding in a small sitting room we’d taken to using when we wanted to talk privately amongst ourselves, and if I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn Cailan was hiding in it.

 “Cailan?” 

 He flinched and spun away from the barely ajar door, where he’d been peeking out at whoever was in the hallway outside; we’d come in through another door leading off the hall nearest the Warden dining room.

 “Uh, hi!” 

 I saw his eyes flit guiltily back towards the door, and stepped past him, putting my eye to the crack between door and jam.  Blake stood there, a polite smile glued to his face, as an angry-looking red-headed woman glared at him imperiously. 

 “I demand to be brought before the King immediately, do you understand me?”  Her voice was loud, shrill, and extremely annoying, and I adjusted my age estimate down as her voice reverberated through the hallway.  _Not a woman – a girl._   “I will not be treated this way!  I was robbed, I say, right in the market…”

 Blake deftly led the woman away, and her voice thankfully receded as she followed him down the hallway to the sound of his polite rejections.

 “Thank the Maker,” came Cailan’s voice at my back, and I turned away from the door to see my brother-in-law on his toes, watching the same scene over the top of my head.  “I thought she’d never leave.”

 “What was that all about?” Alistair inquired, as he held his hand out to me and I ducked under Cailan to take it.  He pulled me securely against his side, wrapping his arm too casually around my shoulders; I rolled my eyes and he flushed before turning his attention back to Cailan.

 “Habren Bryland,” Cailan complained.  “She’s been coming up with one excuse after another to speak with me.  What she expects me to do about being robbed in the market before the Landsmeet, I have no idea.  Honestly, who keeps a tiara in her handbag anyway?”

 I pinched my lips together, trying not to laugh; I had a good idea who had stolen that tiara, and Cailan didn’t need to know.  He continued muttering angrily, unaware of my inner amusement.

 “Well you are the most eligible bachelor in Thedas at the moment, your Majesty.”  Cailan grimaced, and I grinned.  “I’m not sure why you’re surprised.  Just think of all the shopping she could do if she were queen!”

 Cailan shook himself like a wet mabari, shuddering in horror.  “Can you imagine it?  The country would be bankrupt in a week.  Though perhaps I could convince her that the darkspawn have the best Orlesian silks…she’d probably annoy them to death – or at least into running away from Ferelden.”

 Alistair guffawed, and Cailan smirked before running a hand through his hair ruefully.  “I’m lucky you found Blake, Sierra.  I don’t know what I’d do without that kid.  He’s cute and innocent enough to lie straight to someone’s face without being caught.  Habren will find herself out on the street before she knows how she got there.”

 “You’d better not be throwing that child to the dogs, Cailan.  He doesn’t deserve to be shouted at because you’re ducking the nobles you don’t like.”

 “Honestly, no one’s given him any trouble.  I watch.  And he seems to think it’s all fun and games, really.”

 “Has he done it to Eamon yet?”  Alistair’s expression was amused.

 Cailan actually giggled.  “Twice.  Funniest thing I ever saw.”  Cailan sank into a chair, and only then did I notice the dark circles under his eyes.  _Someone hasn’t been sleeping any_.  “So what can I do for you two?  You found me, after all.”  He winked.

 I relaxed and sat in a nearby chaise, while Alistair curled up at my feet, his head in my lap, eyes closed as I stroked his hair softly.  “Nothing.  We weren’t even looking for you; Aedan and Duncan are supposed to meet Alistair here.  I just came along for the ride.”

 Alistair opened one eye a crack while Cailan seemed to try and puzzle through my Earth vernacular.  “Since we found you, though, how are you doing?  You look tired.”

 Cailan scoffed, clearly planning to ignore the question, until he saw Alistair and I both watching him seriously.  He sighed.  “I don’t sleep well,” he confirmed.  “Bad enough we’re having a Blight without all the idiotic politicking everyone keeps doing.  I thought I was supposed to be the foolish one?  Compared to them, I look more constant than Anora.”

 I winced at the mention of his ex-wife’s name; the Grand Cleric hadn’t waited long to annul that marriage, and Cailan was officially single again.  “Have you made any decisions yet?”

 I didn’t have to explain further; Cailan wasn’t married to her any more, but he still hadn’t decided what he was going to do with her.  He’d mentioned exile in the Landsmeet, but so far she was still on house arrest in her old rooms in the Palace.

 “Nevarra,” he finally answered, just before I’d given up hope of an answer.  “I have a few contacts there.  A friend of my father’s, a widower who’s already got heirs, needs a political-minded wife in his bid for power within the nobility.  He has large holdings for her to run, and she could work her way into the women’s circles in Nevarra City, help him harness the rumour mill.  It’s far away from here – and from anyone who might have thoughts of using her to foment rebellion.  I already offered it to her, and she seems…accepting.  Maybe even pleased.  It’s better than she expected from the man-child she believes me to be – she thought I was going to have her killed to assuage my ego.”

 I frowned thoughtfully.  Truly, it seemed better than she deserved after all she’d done, but I couldn’t fault Cailan for not wanting to execute or ruin a woman he’d once loved.  It seemed cruel to place her fate in the hands of the one she’d hurt the most.

 “How does Loghain feel about that?”  Alistair’s tone was almost defensive, and I could picture him taking Loghain aside and chewing him out if he’d been a jerk about it.

 “Surprised, mostly.  Relieved, I think, and while he isn’t happy, he’s not made an issue about it either.  Maybe I really am growing up, if I can avoid fighting with Loghain about even that.”  We all chuckled.

 ****

 Within a couple more days, Duncan had us moving again, leaving Denerim behind.  I was sad to lose my cushy bed, but strangely glad to have a purpose again.  We were to establish a command post near where we hoped to engage the horde before it reached Denerim, and form patrol routes between the mages, elves, dwarves, and Fereldans who were slowly assembling to form our army.  And then, the armies were to combine and train.  Loghain’s plan was for mages, archers, and close-range fighters to be interspersed with each other, divided into small units that could be mobile and responsive, linked by fast-moving messengers, and the mages were all to be taught a spell that sent a small flare into the sky, in different colours for different messages. 

 Each mage would be accompanied by one or more templars, which was the only reason they’d been given permission to play such an important role; to my surprise, Knight-Commander Greagoir, who had accompanied those who’d arrived from Kinloch Hold, argued passionately with the Grand Cleric to provide Chantry oversight to allow the mages more freedom and influence.

 We had sent Morrigan off to find the three dwarves and direct them to us, and she flew off in bird form with a caw.  We’d left Gorim in the city with his wife and new daughter; he promised to catch up with us in a month or so, once she’d started to feel better.  I wanted to encourage him to stay and be with his family, but he’d promised Sereda to act as a liaison between the two dwarven groups – the Warrior Caste and the new Military – and the Fereldans, so I knew he’d come regardless.

 The weather, finally turning from winter to spring, was suddenly disgustingly rainy, and every single thing anyone owned at the camp was immediately covered in mud.  I was grateful that it wasn’t so cold, but disgusted by the conditions at camp.  People were eating, sleeping, and training in the mud and rain, and sickness started to spread among the gathered troops.  Loghain soon had crews of men felling trees and building raised platforms for the tents to be pitched on, and had a roof built over an area that served as a mess hall; between that and the healers, who worked tirelessly with the troops, the illness was halted before we’d lost more than a handful of men.

 The next month was busy.  Every day more people arrived – elves, dwarves, mages, templars, and the first groups of the Fereldan army.  The Wardens who were not patrolling the edges of the Wilds were divided among the groups, teaching the various armies tactics, as well as how to avoid becoming tainted.  Our companions were divided with them, so each Warden had at least one helper.  I was assigned with Alistair, of course; it felt really weird teaching experienced fighters anything, given how new I was to fighting, but the tactics we’d used successfully for months against darkspawn were relevant no matter how skilled the fighter.  Emissaries first, then ranged and stealth fighters take out archers while melee hold the front line.  There were several small skirmishes between darkspawn raiding parties and one or two of the units, and the groups handled themselves well, with few casualties and no one tainted.

 There was a small group of mages who Wynne had been working with in Redcliffe while the rest of us had gone to Orzammar, and they continued to train together instead of being separated into the other units; they were going to be the part of the core team that would help ground the Archdemon, aided by the dwarves with bola launchers who also arrived partway through the month.  The mages had been training at combining their magic – the concept was well-known in healing, but seemed to be a new development in offensive magic – and they had managed to greatly increase the range and accuracy of frost spells and paralysis.

 The bola launchers were a revelation; they were mobile, mounted on little two-wheeled carts that could be pushed around like wheel-barrows, and each was accompanied by two dwarves trained in their use.  They looked a bit like someone took two ballistas, turned them sideways, and mounted them side-by-side.  There were both the traditional bolas I had described originally, but also weighted nets that could be launched – however, they’d made some changes in design.  Instead of rope, they were now made of a thin, supple chain, and instead of rocks tied to the end, the weights were made of what looked like concrete poured right around the end of the chain.  They were much too heavy to throw by hand, and apparently the only way to separate the weights from the chain was to shatter the entire ball.  The launch was powered not only by kinetic energy, but also by some sort of controlled explosion, giving them the range required.  I guessed it was Lyrium, given the race of the man who’d designed them.  The dwarves with the launchers and the mages immediately began working together, target training on clumps of ground levitated by other mages.  I felt confident that if the Archdemon came down close enough to breathe fire, they’d be able to ground it.

 The dwarf in charge of the launch crews, as they called themselves, approached me shortly after their arrival to present me with a small, heavy chest from Dallard, my business partner of sorts.  Opening it later in our tent, I was stunned to find over 100 gold sovereigns, along with a note explaining that he’d sold more units to Sereda than he thought, and had also started selling them to Nevarra.  There’d been several high dragon sightings in Orlais and the Free Marches, so he promised more gold, as soon as he had more units built.

 “I married rich!”  Alistair exclaimed with a grin.  “You’re going to be glad to have that when you find out how little coin your husband gets paid as a Grey Warden.”

 I slapped his shoulder, and he laughed and kissed me.

 “I should send it to Soldier’s Peak, see if Levi Dryden will stay on as my seneschal, and get him started on the serious renovations.”

 In the end, I sent Levi a message, nervous about carrying around that much gold but unwilling to hand it to an unknown messenger.  One of the Fereldan army leaders had access to ravens trained to carry messages; I hoped they didn’t frighten Levi too badly, or have an awkward run-in with Shale and the Golem army we expected any time.  The reply took several days, and Levi assured me the he would be pleased to act as my seneschal for the time being, and he would have someone, a Dryden cousin, pick up my little lockbox and take it to Soldier’s Peak safely.  Without other options, I agreed.  It took only two weeks for the messenger to arrive by horse, take delivery of my little lockbox, and leave again.

 Finally the three dwarves caught up with us, and Oghren, Faren, and Bel began working with both the dwarven armies and the rest of the Grey Wardens.  Oghren was practically glowing, wearing the first real smile I’d seen on his face since we’d met; he’d cut down drastically on his drinking, and began gaining reluctant respect even from the warrior dwarves for his skill and hard work training the groups on tactics.  He’d been approached by several of the former casteless to train them as berserkers.  Knowing he wouldn’t be interested in any emotional response, most of us exchanged nods and didn’t mention it, though I admit I had to spent some time teasing him about ‘forging the moaning statue’ and other ridiculous innuendos I could remember from the game, making him actually blush.

 Morrigan was back as well, and with Dariel – who was now an efficient bird messenger when required – had begun teaching a handful of the other Dalish mages how to shapeshift into birds.  We were hopeful they could serve as messengers.  She didn’t even complain about being asked, and I wondered if Aedan had already had the conversation with her, or if she’d actually just agreed.  _I’m not asking which; I like my ass un-burnt, thank you very much._

 


	108. Preparation

Chapter One Hundred Eight: Preparation

 

By the end of a month training and integrating armies on the plains of the Southern Bannorn and the Southron Hills, we were joined by Cailan, along with Eamon, Teagan, Nathaniel, and a large contingent of nobles whose troops we’d already assimilated, as well as Keeper Lanaya, Kardol of the Legion of the Dead, and Queen Sereda herself.  The ruler of Orzammar leaving the city for the surface was no small event; it had been centuries since a Dwarven monarch had been seen on the surface.  And many of the Deshyrs followed her, half out of curiosity, the rest out of obligation.  The new military caste, made up largely of former casteless, was astoundingly well-disciplined, and outshone the grumbling, complaining warriors in almost every way.

 It was weird, being left out of the decision-making for the first time in so long; Aedan and Alistair attended the strategy sessions with Duncan and Loghain, but the rest of us had to wait until they returned to fill us in.  The large groups of nobles, dwarven and human alike, had been forced to choose representatives, instead of everyone attending every meeting.  I was actually grateful not to be included, however, after hearing Aedan and Alistair describe the shouting and complaining between all of the various parties involved; it sounded like every board meeting I’d ever attended, and I didn’t miss that aspect of my job back on Earth in the slightest.

 I’d managed to keep avoiding Loghain, both on the road and once we’d established camp, until one night after a particularly bad strategy meeting.  He followed Aedan back to his tent, which happened to be next to the one I shared with Alistair, still deep in discussion with his fellow Wardens.  Busy cleaning mud off my armour, I didn’t notice his arrival until he was practically standing next to me, and I flinched, scrambling to my feet.

 Aedan took one look at my face, which I guessed was pale with anxiety, and proceeded to drag Loghain away from me, to the former Teyrn’s confusion.  I heard Aedan hiss something at him, probably instructions to shut up, if I knew Aedan, as Loghain asked what was wrong with me.  I couldn’t hear the rest of the discussion, to my relief, and I wondered whether Aedan had changed his mind about explaining my background to the taciturn warrior.

 I soon learned that indeed he hadn’t, when Loghain approached me one day as I sat, alone, cleaning my armour after a brief encounter with a small party of raiding darkspawn.  He walked up deliberately, and unless I wanted to obviously snub him by standing up and walking away, I was forced to wait and see what he’d say. 

 I remained seated, refusing to even make eye contact, never mind glance around to look for backup.  _I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me look vulnerable._   “Yes, Warden?”  I hadn’t meant my tone to come out so harsh, and I winced.

 Loghain wrinkled his brow, looking perplexed.  “Do I know you, your Highness?”

 “Ugh, don’t call me that.”

 “It is who you are, though, is it not?”  I shrugged noncommittally, so he continued.  “What shall I call you, then?  Lady Theirin?”

 “My name is Sierra.”

 “As you wish.  But you didn’t answer my question, Sierra.  Do we know each other?”

 I looked up at him, rolling my eyes.  “You expect me to believe you can’t remember?”

 “Well, I hoped I had forgotten something.  To my surprise, most of your companions have been relatively pleasant; your brother, who has more reason than most to despise me has been almost welcoming, compared to your avoidance and open hostility.  I’m not as young as I once was, and I couldn’t figure out why I bother you so, particularly, if we had never met.”

 I looked back to my armour.  “Killing my parents wasn’t enough reason?” I asked in a deceptively mild manner.

 “That was Rendon Howe, _Princess_.  I had nothing to do with that.”

 “Right.  Because Howe would totally have slaughtered an entire castle, including children and servants, knowing that the King would have his head when they returned from Ostagar.”

 “I knew he had evidence of treason committed by your father.  I did not know he would kill everyone.  He was supposed to arrest your parents and bring them before the Landsmeet with his proof.”

 “And yet, when he disobeyed your orders, you punished him by allowing him to claim the Teyrnir as well as the Arling of Denerim?  You definitely showed him.”  I snorted in disgust.  “I notice you don’t deny that he was aware that Cailan was meant to perish at Ostagar.”

 “By the time I learned of his actions in Highever, I had no choice.  The nobility had turned against me, and I needed him.”

  _Does he think I’m stupid, not to notice he avoided the question twice?_   “You needed him in order to start a civil war and try to make a grab for the throne?  Ah, yes, I understand.  Now I forgive you.”  I suppressed a grin as I watched an angry-looking Zevran creep up behind the heavily armoured Warden.

 “To-“  He stopped and sputtered, face red.  “You do not understand the threat-“

 “If you say one word about Orlais, I will allow my friend, behind you, to eviscerate you, as he so clearly wants to.”

 Loghain stopped and spun, hand reaching for the pommel of his sword, only to find Zevran’s dagger pressed against his jugular, a feral grin on his face.

 “We meet again!  Zevran Arainai, assassin and former Crow, in case you’ve forgotten.  At _her_ service, just so we are clear, yes?”  The elf winked at me, and I grinned briefly.

 “Zev, put it down.  The Warden and I were just having a light conversation.  No need for bloodshed.”

 “Are you certain?  I haven’t assassinated anyone in days.  My hands are _itching_ , cara mia.”  He lowered the dagger with a flourish, and stepped around Loghain to sink to the ground beside me.  “If you insist, then.  What are we talking about?”

 “Warden Loghain was attempting to understand why I might be hostile towards him.”

 “And the attempted assassination of your beloved and your brother wasn’t reason enough?”

 I grinned at Zevran as Loghain shifted uncomfortably.  “Actually, I don’t hold that against him too hard – it brought you into our lives, after all.”

 “True.  And what would you do without my awesome self?”

 “Exactly.  Now, planning to sell elves as slaves to Tevinter, on the other hand…”

 Loghain raised his eyebrows, startled.  “I didn’t…”

 “Just because they weren’t successful, doesn’t mean you didn’t try, Loghain.  I know about Caladrius.  Another idea of Howe’s that you were only too happy to go along with, I suspect?”

 “I…You…How…?”

 It was vastly amusing watching Loghain, of all people, speechless, and I had to laugh at his stuttering.  “Talk to my brother, Warden.  If he chooses to tell you about my background, then come back and we can discuss things further.  For now, allow me to say that I don’t just dislike you.  I hate you, utterly and completely.”

 Zevran cleared his throat.  “I think you should know that we are watching you, yes?  If you do a single thing to make me doubt your intentions, to hurt any of our friends or family, I will gut you like the pig you are.  Yes?”

 I nodded enthusiastically and squeezed Zevran’s arm.  I had played the game enough to know that Loghain wouldn’t betray the Wardens, but his explanations for his actions had always seemed…lame.  And I’d changed some things.  Especially knowing he was to be transferred permanently to Orlais, it was possible he’d do something desperate or stupid.

 “Your Highness,” Loghain whispered, the look on his face hard to read.  “Believe me when I tell you that, regardless of my past actions, I am fully committed to the Grey Wardens.  I did not understand, before.  And your brother would say I neither asked nor listened, and he’s not wrong.  But I do understand, now.  Commander Duncan tells me you know about the dreams – I’ve had them too.  I would not do anything to endanger the Grey Wardens, knowing what I know now.”

 He stared earnestly at me for a moment, before bowing and turning to walk away.  I was left feeling confused, off-kilter.  I didn’t like not knowing what he was thinking, worrying about the consequences of my presence in Thedas.  I turned to Zev for reassurance, to find him biting his lip, looking after the retreating back of the former Teyrn with a puzzled expression.  When he caught my gaze, he shrugged expressively, and I slapped his shoulder.

 “You’re not helping to reassure me, Zev.”

 “I know, cara mia.  I know.”

 I sighed and went back to cleaning my armour.

Finally, after almost two months camped in the rain in the southern Bannorn, Shale and Caridin showed up.  And the golem army they’d brought was far more impressive than what they’d predicted before we left Orzammar.

 In the Deep Roads, wandering into Thaigs and hallways that no one but darkspawn had seen in centuries, the Paragon and our friend had found dozens upon dozens of inactivated but functional golems, bringing them to the surface for the first time since they’d been forged.  They hadn’t even begun work on Shale’s goal of freeing them from the slavery of the control rods Caridin had created for them, but they would have plenty of subjects to work on when the Blight was over.

 They approached the camp not from the west, as we expected, but from the south, through the Korcari Wilds.  In their travels, the two sentient golems had unearthed lost maps and forgotten tunnels, and managed to find the routes the darkspawn were using to come to the surface; through cleverness and pretending to be deactivated when outnumbered too badly, they had followed part of the gathering horde right to us.

 They brought interesting news, however: they had seen the Archdemon, and the beast was, at best estimate, a few days behind them on its way to the surface.

 The news of the Horde’s movements and the imminent arrival of the Archdemon galvanized the armies and its leaders like nothing else could have.  The complaining nobles stopped whining and took directions from Duncan, Loghain, and their monarchs; the separate army units that had been formed marched to their designated locations to wait.  The golems would stay together, the need for the control rods making splitting them up prohibitive; the rest of the various combatants were mixed into their battalions.

 The strategy was relatively simple, though I suspected there were many complexities I was not aware of or just didn’t understand: a large contingent would wait, for all appearances completely alone, in each of the likely locations where the horde and the Archdemon could appear.  When they were spotted, messengers would be sent, by air and on foot, and the rest of the divided armies would arrive in their battalions from multiple different directions at once, coordinated by ravens, shape-shifted mages, and coloured magic flares.  The unit responsible for grounding the dragon – the mages and bola launchers – would travel with the bulk of the Grey Wardens and our companions, who were to be divided into three groups that would head to where they were needed to confront not only the Archdemon, once it was down, but also the darkspawn Generals we expected to accompany the horde.

 Finally, Cailan, Sereda, Keeper Lanaya, Knight-Commander Greagoir, the Revered Mother, and myself, surrounded by a small army of nobles, messengers, raven handlers, a few mages, and some templars, would travel as a group, staying to the rear of the conflict, ready and able to give orders and divert the various battalions depending on the progress of the battle.  I was quite certain the only reasons I was included in the illustrious group of muckety mucks were to keep me out of the battle –whether I had Alistair or Aedan to blame for that, I couldn’t be sure – and to babysit Cailan in case he decided to engage in some moronic heroics.  I was pretty sure he’d stay put; after feeling humiliated by being manipulated by Loghain, he’d developed some new-found wisdom.  _I hope._

 There was a battalion, led by Teagan, going to defend Redcliffe against the feint we expected, who would join the rest of the armies once Redcliffe was safe.

 Two nights before the expected start of the conflict, Duncan pulled Alistair, Aedan, and I in to one of the larger command tents to talk.

 We all made ourselves comfortable, ignoring the handful of portable camp stools in favour of sitting together on the ground as though we were still at camp, travelling alone trying to unite armies against the Blight.

 Duncan looked unusually solemn as he stroked his beard thoughtfully.  “We need to talk…about the future of the Wardens once I am gone.”  He held his hand up, forestalling the objections the three of us were about to start shouting.  “You all know as well as I do that I will not outlive this Blight.  Were it not for the imminent battle, I would already have gone on my Calling.  If I have my way, it will be I who strikes the killing blow against the Archdemon – no one else need die for this.  We need to face the reality that I will not be leading the Grey Wardens once the Blight is over.”

 My brother, my husband, and I, as a group, subsided into pouty silence, and Duncan forced a smile.  “I am honoured by your regard, truly, but that is not what we need to talk about.”

 I looked up, wondering what exactly he did want to discuss.

 “First of all, you are the most senior of the Fereldan Grey Wardens.  It will be between you two to rebuild the Grey Wardens in Ferelden and deal not only with the Mother and the Architect, but defend against the Thaw as well.”

 Alistair twitched.  “But Riordan…”

 “Will be returning to Orlais, should he survive.  As will Conrad and Dougal.  Despite their temporary defection, they are not Fereldan Grey Wardens.  Loghain is not the only Fereldan who is suspicious of Orlais; they will not be tolerated here permanently, even should they wish to stay, especially not in a leadership role.  Nor do any of them wish to take on that role.  Whoever commands the Wardens when the Blight is over will be a powerful figure in Ferelden, regardless of nobility or birthright.  Between Cailan’s regard and the respect earned if we successfully end a Blight faster than anyone in history, the Warden Commander will be a visible, influential person.

 “No, I’m afraid it falls to you two.  For what it is worth, I am sorry to leave either of you in this position.”

 Aedan and Alistair shared despairing looks, and I giggled.  “You look like someone’s just told you that you only have a week to live, not that you have been granted positions of power and privilege.”

 “Easy for you to say, sister.”

 “Hey!  I’m already the stupid steward of Soldier’s Peak and a sodding princess, I’ll remind you.  Warden Commander seems fairly benign by comparison.”  I stuck my tongue out at Aedan and the three men chuckled.

 “To return to my point,” Duncan sighed, rolling his eyes at my antics, “one of you will be named Warden Commander.  I suggest you might want to figure it out in advance.”

 “You aren’t going to choose your successor?  I thought that’s how it was done.”  Alistair looked confused, but less panicky at the concept of leadership than he could have.

 “I think the two of you are more than capable of determining what is best on your own.”

 Aedan and Alistair shared another meaningful look, and my brother raised one eyebrow.  Alistair nodded, and they turned back to Duncan in unison.  “We’ll share it.”

 Aedan continued, “Can we be co-Commanders?  We can share the administrative duties, take turns leading in the field and remaining behind to hold the fort.  We can figure out the details later.”

 Duncan smiled proudly.  “That’s what I hoped for, to be honest.  I suggest Sierra, as technically the third-most senior Warden, as a tie-breaker should you fail to find agreement on important decisions.  I will write my recommendations up and send them to Weisshaupt immediately.”  I scowled, and Aedan took the opportunity to stick his tongue out at me.  I laughed.

 “There’s something else we need to discuss, however.”

  _That sounded ominous._   Aedan tilted his head curiously while Alistair frowned, recognising Duncan’s tone as being more serious.

 “We need to discuss relations between the Fereldan Wardens and Weisshaupt.”  Duncan rose, pacing back and forth across the small tent, three sets of eyes watching him attentively.  “Cailan has some concerns, echoed by Loghain, about the politics at Weisshaupt, and what they will mean for the Grey Wardens left in Ferelden after the Blight.”  He turned to me.  “Do you know anything about that?”

 “Very little.  There was an expansion to the game, starting six months after the Blight, describing the events with the Mother and the Architect, but there was very little said about Weisshaupt.  They sent a rather unpleasant woman to be a treasurer of sorts, which struck me really as a way of trying to assert some control, but that was all.  And the next game mentioned the Grey Wardens almost as an afterthought – it was about the problems in Kirkwall with mages and templars and Qunari.  There was supposed to be a third game, eventually, but I honestly don’t know if it’s been released yet.  All that I know about Weisshaupt, really, was in a book written about your trip into the Deep Roads with Maric and Fiona, and it didn’t leave me with a favourable impression.  The reaction to Riordan’s request for aid hasn’t improved that any.”

 Duncan nodded.  “I would like to disagree, but I have to admit I am also worried.”  He sat down abruptly again.  “There are some ways in which Loghain was not wrong.  The fact of the matter is that Weisshaupt has always treated the Fereldan Wardens as subordinates of those in Orlais.  My orders, messages from Weisshaupt…all of them come through Orlais.  I have always had far more contact with Commander Clarel than directly from Weisshaupt. 

 “I have fought that, tried to keep the influences of Orlais on us to a minimum – and Clarel has no desire to be involved in Ferelden, which helps – but I have been thwarted at every attempt to change things.  When I’ve sent communications directly to the First Warden, or have recommended that politically, allowing my orders to come through Orlais is a bad idea, I’ve been ignored or reprimanded.  I requested that they send Grey Wardens from Nevarra, Antiva, or the Free Marches instead of Orlais when it became clear the Blight would be in Ferelden, but they refused and offered only those from Orlais, which were, of course, blocked by Loghain. 

 “Even recruiting more Grey Wardens has been difficult – they would routinely withhold Archdemon blood when I requested supplies.  Before Ostagar, I had enough blood to perform perhaps one last Joining ritual.  They claimed it was due to concerns that I would alienate the nobility if I recruited too freely, but there were plenty of good potential recruits who wouldn’t have ruffled any feathers.”

 “So what is it you want us to do?”  Alistair looked profoundly disturbed.

 “King Cailan has suggested, and I don’t disagree, that once the Blight is over, ended without the help of the rest of the Order, that the Grey Wardens of Ferelden declare themselves as separate from Weisshaupt.  He has promised to provide tithes in the form of coin, supplies, and accommodations at Soldier’s Peak indefinitely.  In return, he has made some sensible requests to have the Wardens work with Ferelden’s armies, especially the scouts, to increase our access to intelligence on the darkspawn’s activities, and requested that we set up small stations throughout the country as watch posts and to foster improved relations with the people.  He has recommended to Queen Sereda that Orzammar should have a more permanent Grey Warden presence, and suggested an alliance between Fereldan and dwarven Grey Wardens, as well as amending the treaty we currently hold so that Orzammar will provide aid only to the Fereldan Wardens.  The Dalish have already agreed to such an amendment, and asked only for communication between the clans and the Wardens.”

 “Would Weisshaupt even accept that?”  Aedan’s brow was furrowed in thought.

 “They wouldn’t have much choice, especially if we were backed by the Fereldan nobility and army.  The worst they could do is refuse aid in future against the next Blight, but as we’ve seen, they can already do that, not to mention that it is unlikely the next Blights will begin in Ferelden anyway – it is far more likely they will be requesting aid from us.  We could offer an alliance, treaties and the like, and we will have some leverage, once this Blight is ended, after all.”

 Aedan looked confused, but I immediately understood.  “Archdemon blood.”

 Duncan nodded.  “Blood, bone, scales…the last Blight was four hundred years ago.  While they still have some stores of Archdemon blood, I imagine their supply is running low.  We will have the only access to a fresh source.  Which is another thing we need to discuss later.”

 “So you think we should do this?  Declare our independence, and hold the Archdemon blood hostage for their agreement?  Can we even do it, be Grey Wardens, without Weisshaupt’s support?”  Alistair looked like he felt ill, and I couldn’t blame him.  I could only wonder what sort of ripple effect such a massive change would have on the Thedas that I had originally experienced only through games.

 “I think you must.  I don’t see the Fereldan monarchy accepting the hypocrisy we’ve seen – the politics, the control tactics, refusing to acknowledge Ferelden as its own entity – and continuing to support Grey Wardens if we’re still part of the Order.  I don’t even want to think about what Weisshaupt’s reaction will be to Avernus’ altered Joining formula.  I have sent a messenger with the new formula and what we know about it to all of the Warden Commanders in Thedas, as well as Weisshaupt – they aren’t going to be happy about it.”

 “Duncan!  You rebel!”  I couldn’t help but be impressed.

 We spent another few minutes discussing the processing required for Archdemon blood.  It was certainly something I hadn’t known about from the game, and I was sure if Duncan hadn’t survived, the blood would have gone to waste.  There were supplies needed, and only a Grey Warden could do any of the harvesting – the risk to anyone else who came too near the extremely tainted substance would be enormous.  Aedan and Alistair secured Duncan’s agreement to inform the rest of the Grey Wardens about the process, just in case.  Aedan also insisted he would offer the others a choice between remaining with the Fereldan Grey Wardens or being transferred elsewhere if they’d prefer.

 When offered, not one wanted to leave.

 That night, Alistair and I desperately made love in our tent; when we finished, as we cuddled together, something would set us off and we’d begin again.  It probably wasn’t the healthiest way of dealing with our fear, and the grief we knew we would be confronting within a few days, one way or the other, but it was all we had, and it was enough just to be together in every way.

 I was woken from a dead sleep sometime later by Aedan rapping stiffly on the fabric of our tent.  Knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear my reply, I squirmed out of a confused, drowsy Alistair’s arms, slipped into a nightgown, and stuck my head outside of the tent.

 “What is it?”  It was raining again, and I was irritated not only to be wet and cold, but also awake instead of sleeping soundly with my husband.

 “Have you seen Zevran?”

 I rolled my eyes.  “Aedan, believe me, I haven’t left this tent for hours.  I’ve seen no one but Alistair.”

 “I can’t find him.  Sten and Oghren are also missing, as is Duncan.”

 Alistair pulled a tent flap aside, crawling over me to stick his own head out.  “They’re missing?”

 Aedan looked absolutely inconsolable.  I sighed.  “Give us a minute to get dressed.”

 Alistair and I scrambled into our armour haphazardly, tumbling out of the tent a few moments later.  The three of us closed our eyes, trying to feel if there were any Grey Wardens in directions we didn’t expect.  I could feel those I expected – the three Orlesians and our junior Wardens – but Duncan was apparently outside of my range.  Alistair and Aedan found the same thing.

 We searched the camp, and finding nothing, headed to Cailan’s encampment within the nearest battalion.  We split up to better cover the ground, and I’d reached the southern edge of the battalion’s tent city when I caught a momentary sensation of the taint further south.  Unable to determine, in that brief moment, whether it was Grey Warden or darkspawn, I fingered my daggers, debated my options, and headed out past the last row of tents.  The sensation grew as I walked, and within fifty steps I was certain that what I felt was no raiding party; it was Duncan, but he wasn’t alone.  Anxious, remembering what had happened in the Deep Roads, I followed the taint further from camp, into the woods and to a small clearing.

 I gasped, covering the last hundred feet at a run.  I could see Duncan, looking unharmed, with several darkspawn corpses at his feet.  I could feel two more Grey Warden signatures that I didn’t recognise, which was strange, given we weren’t missing any other Grey Wardens, but what had me tripping over myself to hurry was what, or rather who, was standing next to Duncan.  I could see white-blond hair, bronze skin, and long, elegant ears.  It was Zevran.

 And he was holding a chalice.

 “Stop!” I shouted, and the elf paused as he raised the chalice to his lips.  I stumbled, falling to one knee, before leaping back to my feet.  I got perhaps twenty feet away, near enough to see Sten and Oghren lying in the mud, and to hear the elf’s words.

 “I must, cara mia.  Tell Aedan…tell him I am sorry.”  And then he lifted the chalice, before I could stop him, and drank.  His eyes rolled back and he screamed, once.

 I reached him just in time to catch him as he fell, and unprepared as I was, I crumpled to the ground, the unconscious elf in my arms weighing me down.  I settled him to the ground, scrambling to check his pulse, but my Warden senses told me what I needed to know before the throbbing under my fingertips reassured me: he had survived.  And so had Oghren and Sten, from the taint I could feel resonating from their blood.

 I looked up at Duncan, holding the chalice with a sad, wary expression on his face.  “Aedan may never forgive you.”  I looked back down at the Antivan, smoothing back a lock of hair that had fallen across his face.

 “I know.”

 “Then…why?”  I stood, glaring at my honourary father.

 “He forced my hand.”  Duncan sighed, his frown deepening.  “He volunteered.  They all did.  And when I refused, he threatened to tell Grey Warden secrets to anyone who would listen.  He knew, Sierra.  Knew he could die in the Joining, knew he could die killing the Archdemon.  He wanted to be ahead of Aedan in the kill priority.  He told the others that Aedan, or you, could die trying to kill the Archdemon, and they all insisted they Join.”

 I sighed.  _I feel like I should have seen that coming._   “I’ll kill him myself, if Aedan doesn’t.”  I looked at the unconscious forms in a rough semi-circle around Duncan and sighed again.  “You had to do this in the middle of nowhere?”

 “Zevran’s idea.  He didn’t want to chance Aedan stopping him.”

 “Of course.”  I rolled my eyes in exasperation.  “I’ll go get the others to drag them back to camp.”

 I found Alistair, first, frantically searching for me, worried I’d disappeared as well; I brought him with me to find Aedan, Faren, and Bel, insisting they follow me but not telling them why.  I led them to the clearing, stepping aside to allow them to see what I’d seen and draw their own conclusions.  It took a moment, the chalice now nowhere in sight as a visual clue, but the sensation of extra Grey Wardens in the clearing couldn’t stay unnoticed for long, and as a group, the four of them gasped.

 “No!” Aedan fell to his knees beside Zevran, pulling the elf’s unmoving form into his arms. 

 I dropped to my knees beside my brother, arm around his shoulders.  “He lives, Aedan.  I checked before I came to get you.  He’s going to be fine.”

 Aedan shuddered and turned his face into my shoulder as Alistair checked on Sten and Oghren, confirming what I already knew – they’d all survived.  _Thank God for Avernus…or I suppose I should thank the Maker._

 Easing Zevran back down to the ground, Aedan stood and squared his shoulders to Duncan, scowling.  “How could you?”

 He took one step towards the Rivaini before I was in front of him, hands on his arms, hoping to circumvent the explosion I knew was coming.  “He volunteered, Aedan.”

 “Doesn’t matter.  _He_ should have refused!”  He waved his arm in Duncan’s direction, almost shaking me off.

 “He did.  And Zevran threatened to tell all of Thedas the secrets he’s managed to ferret out.”

 Aedan practically growled.  “So let him!  We are separating from Weisshaupt anyway.  What’s the difference?”

 I had no good answer for that one, even though I suspected he didn’t really mean it.  Fortunately, we were saved from an ugly confrontation by a moan and a shudder from the elf in question; Aedan immediately dropped to a knee beside him and gathered the semi-conscious assassin in his arms.  “This isn’t over,” he threatened, and Duncan just nodded sadly.  Aedan scooped Zevran up and headed off towards the camp.  _I hope Zev can convince him not to murder Duncan…_

 I turned to the two dwarves, and gestured to a sleeping Oghren.  “Could you…?”

 Faren sighed.  “Why not?  Isn’t the first time, won’t be the last…”  He and Bel each grabbed an arm and hauled, dragging their red-headed friend back to his tent.

 Alistair looked at Sten and whined.  “Why do I have to carry the Qunari?  He’s heavy!”

 I pulled Alistair’s shoulder until he leaned down towards me and I could whisper in his ear.  “How about because there’s a reward?”  He looked at me, confused, and I waggled my eyebrows in an Oghren impression.  “What, you’re going to let Duncan claim it?”  I punctuated my innuendo with a flick of my tongue over Alistair’s sensitive earlobe, smirking as he gasped.  I released his shoulder and leaned over Sten’s prone form.  “Come on, you big baby, I’ll help.”  In the end Duncan and I both had to help carry all eight feet of hornless kossith back, depositing the big man in his own tent.

 I turned to Duncan.  “I get it with Zevran, but why did Oghren do it?  Or Sten?  Did they say?”

 “I’ll let them tell you themselves.  In the morning.”

 He looked so sad, I stepped in and gave him a hug, kissing his cheek gently.  “Goodnight, Duncan.”

 And then I was dragged into our tent by Alistair, where I proceeded to give him his reward, and then some.


	109. Insurance

Chapter One Hundred Nine: Insurance

 

The next morning, I found a very subdued Aedan sitting by the fire, dark bags under his eyes testifying that he hadn’t slept well.  No one else was around, though it wasn’t that early by our normal standards, and I wondered if the sour expression on his face had scared everyone off.  I sat down beside my brother and took his hand, resting my head on his shoulder as I picked at cold jerky I had fished out of my pack.  We didn’t speak; I handed Aedan and Alistair some of the jerky, and we ate together in silence as we waited for the new Grey Wardens to wake.

 About an hour later, the three men emerged from their tents one at a time, I assumed mostly drawn by hunger; Aedan had made an enormous pot of porridge, anticipating the need, and handed each of the men a bowl without a word.  Once the three of them had finished of seconds and then thirds, he finally stood, glaring at them balefully.

 “So would anyone like to explain what in the void that was all about?  This was your idea, I’m sure of it.”  He glared at Zevran.

 Sten and Oghren remained impassive, turning their gazes to assassin, who winced.  “Amore mio…”

 “Just explain it?  Please?  What were you thinking?”

 Zevran sighed.  “I overheard you, yesterday.  The three of you with Duncan in the command tent.”

 “You were eavesdropping?”

 “Not originally, no.  I wanted to ask you something, and it was only when I got inside that I heard you talking about sensitive topics.  And my natural curiosity kicked in when I realised you were discussing Grey Warden secrets.”

 Aedan shuffled his feet, pouty expression still sullen, but suddenly I thought I knew exactly what had happened.

 “You didn’t tell me, amore mio, that the Grey Warden who kills the Archdemon will die.”  The assassin’s expression was recriminating.  

 “Zev-“

 Zevran cut him off.  “I know Duncan intends to be the one, but we all know that nothing is preordained.  He could perish before getting near the beast.  If you thought I would allow you, any of you, to take the risk of being the one, when I could prevent it, you are much mistaken.”

 Aedan put his hands over his face, shuddering slightly.  Zevran stood and wrapped one arm around Aedan’s shoulders, whispering something I couldn’t hear into his ear; Aedan drooped even further.  Obviously uncomfortable with the emotional display, Oghren turned to me and picked up where Zevran had left off.

 “The elf told me and big guy that he was gonna volunteer, and I wasn’t about to let the swishy nug-licker show me up.”

 I snorted a laugh, and Zevran grinned at him.  “Whatever you need to tell yourself, my dwarven friend.  I can pretend you didn’t agree to it after finding out Sierra could be forced to make the killing blow.”

 The dwarf flushed, and I gaped.  “Oghren?”

 “Whatever.  Ancestors’ hairy asses, I know I owe you – all of you.  I might be a no-good, drunken, exiled, useless dwarf, but I pay my debts.  Don’t make it out to be more than it is.”

 I blushed, knowing it was the closest the berserker was ever likely to come to admitting that he cared about any of us, and I was pleased to be included in that group.  I squeezed his shoulder, and he smirked at me before waggling his eyebrows and asking if the rumours he’d heard about other Grey Warden ‘appetites’ were true, and if I’d care to demonstrate.  Alistair wrapped an arm around me possessively, I slapped the back of Oghren’s head, and Zevran chuckled lewdly.

 Aedan finally looked up, expression bleak.

 “I didn’t want this for you.”  He looked from Zevran to Oghren and Sten.  “Any of you.  Do you know you could have died?”

 “We could have died, amore mio, any time in the last year.  Killed by darkspawn, bandits, or trying to save an idiot from himself, what does it matter?  We could have become tainted, ended up as ghouls.  It doesn’t matter, now, yes?  We all survived.”

 Sten, looking longingly at the now-empty pot of porridge, sighed.  “Parshaara!  Enough.  It is done.  There will be three more Grey Wardens between the Archdemon and the destruction of Thedas.  Is that not enough reason?  Why must this endless discussion be necessary?”

 “Sten…I understand why Zevran Joined, honestly, and Oghren was always going to end up as a Grey Warden, but…”  I trailed off, confused.

 Sten scoffed, refusing to answer, giving me the stoic Qunari silent treatment he always resorted to.  Instead, Zevran answered.  “What he meant is there will be three more Grey Wardens between the Archdemon and the only two people in Ferelden he respects, mia sorella.  That was all I had to say.”

 Sten growled.  “I was sent by the Arishok to answer a question.  I will have more to tell him now.  And there are no Grey Wardens in Seheron.  What if the darkspawn tunnel that far?  I will protect my people.  That is enough.”

 Alistair chuckled in my ear, quietly enough that only I would be able to hear him.  “Leliana was right.  He is a softie.”

 I snickered quietly, earning myself a disapproving glare from the softie in question.

 “Enough talk!”  Oghren stood up and belched loudly.  “Now, by the soggy tits of my Ancestors, where’s the rest of my breakfast?”

 *****

 In the afternoon, scouts returned from the Wilds, indicating that they had seen the forces heading west toward Redcliffe, but Teagan had reported himself in position, so we weren’t too worried.  The same scouts reported horde movements heading for a particular battalion, and the rest of the messengers hurried off to get the other groups moving.  The mages and bola launchers headed out, and our camp began to pack up, hopefully for the last time.

 It wasn’t until Riordan returned with Dougal and Conrad that we had a definitive report of the Archdemon leading the horde.  Apparently it had sensed them, as they scouted in the Wilds, and had done a flashy fly-over, choosing not to attack them, presumably for the same reason it had left Duncan alone in the Deep Roads.  Riordan hadn’t been as badly affected as Duncan, but he’d apparently been a bit dazed after, and had taken a while to shake it off.  The other two were fine, so clearly it was something about being so close to their Calling rather than just being a Warden in general.

 I found it strange that Duncan was so much more advanced with the taint than Riordan; Duncan had postulated that his exposure to the Architect and whatever magic he’d used to accelerate the taint in Fiona and the other Wardens that had encountered him hadn’t been entirely ameliorated by the dagger he’d stolen from the corrupt First Enchanter.  No one could suggest any other explanation, so we sort of accepted it, if reluctantly.

 We marched out and made camp several hours north of where we had been, the Wardens sharing space with Cailan, Sereda, Lanaya, Greagoir, Irving, several of the human and dwarven nobles, and their retinues.  The three groups of Wardens would head south as soon as the location of the generals and the Archdemon were available, and I would stay with Cailan, overlooking the battle from a small cliff.  The mages and bola launchers had joined the battalion down below us, ready to down the Archdemon as soon as it was in range.

 We had an awkward ‘last supper’, no one wishing to appear too grim, but everyone knowing that any one of us could be missing from our next group meal.  Conversation was stilted, and finally after enough uncomfortable silence, I asked a question I’d been dying to ask since we’d left Haven, but hadn’t had the guts.  It seemed a good enough distraction to justify the discomfort asking might have brought.

 “Those of us who were at the Temple of Sacred Ashes…what did you all see, after we passed the Guardian?”

 Those who hadn’t been present watched the rest with interest; the stories had been told enough times that they knew what I was asking, even if they hadn’t been there.  Everyone else shifted uncomfortably.

 “I’ll start.  I saw my father.  Our father,” I amended, glancing at Aedan.  “He told me that I was his daughter, and asked Aedan and I to take care of each other.”

 “He told me to stop living with the guilt of leaving them behind,” Aedan added.  “That he loved us, and was proud of us.”  I hugged Aedan, and he rested his cheek against my head briefly.

 No one spoke for a moment, and then Morrigan broke the silence.  “I saw my mother…Flemeth.  She was not dead, obviously, just speaking with me through the fade.  She taunted me, saying she would be watching me.  That was when I knew that if I wished to survive as myself, I would have to ask for help to kill her.”  I reached out and squeezed her hand, surprised but pleased to see Solona do the same with her other hand.

 “You know we’ll protect you, Morrigan, if you let us.”  Solona looked earnestly at the witch.

 Morrigan flushed and huffed, slightly offended.

 “No one is saying you aren’t capable, Morrigan,” I interrupted before she could make some typical abrasive comment, “just that we are here for you if you need anything.  We are your friends, if you will have us.”

 She relaxed, and eventually even returned the squeeze I gave her fingers, before excusing herself from the group and slipping off, out of the camp.

 Zevran went next.  “I saw…a former lover.  She forgave me.”  He didn’t mention specifics, but I knew it had to be Rinna.  Aedan reached out and clasped his hand, and Zevran smiled at him appreciatively.  “She told me I could be a better man in future than I was when I was with her.  I didn’t know what she meant, at first, but I think I’m finally learning.”

 Leliana sighed.  “I saw a former companion from when I was a bard – another one Marjolaine betrayed.  He died before I escaped.  He also forgave me for getting him involved, and for not being able to save him.  He told me…to live my life, not to let others dictate my future.”

 From the prequel to the game, I vaguely remembered a dwarf and an elven mage who had been captured with Leliana.  I couldn’t recall which had not survived, but I supposed it didn’t matter.  Leliana’s vague smile indicated the forgiveness had lightened the weight on her shoulders, and I was glad for her.

 Sten grunted and stood.  “I do not wish to discuss it.”  He turned and headed towards his tent, and we all let him go.  I felt a pang of guilt, hoping I hadn’t unintentionally hurt him.  I had assumed he might see one of the other Qunari who’d accompanied him from Seheron, but given his response, I doubted it.

 Watching him go, Alistair spoke without looking at any of us.  “I saw Maric.”  It was almost a whisper.  “He…he told me he was proud of me.  He told me that, in the rebellion, he didn’t know what to do, at first; that he didn’t know how to lead.  He followed his mother, and then Loghain… anyone who would take the responsibility from him.  But when he had no choice, he learned he could lead if he had to, that eventually he even enjoyed parts of it.  He told me to trust myself, and to stand up and take responsibility, unless I wanted to live a life of regrets because I allowed someone else to make my decisions for me.”  He looked over at me with a sudden, mischievous grin.  “He told me he liked you, too.”  I blushed and hid my face in his shoulder while everyone laughed.

 That night, the Wardens had one last meeting, all sixteen of the Wardens and I crowded into one large tent.  Loghain objected to me being there, but Duncan ignored him and kept talking. 

 He divided the sixteen of them, plus Morrigan and Leliana, into three groups.

 “Riordan, Conrad, Dougal, Loghain, Morrigan, and I will be the first group.  Our primary goal will be the Archdemon.  Group two, led by Aedan, and group three, led by Alistair, will initially seek out the generals we expect to accompany the horde.  Do not engage the main body of the horde.  Defend yourselves as necessary, but as much as possible, go around, not through.  Find the generals, defeat them, and then rally to wherever the Archdemon lands when it is grounded.  Understood?”  Duncan’s expression was grim and sorrowful; I knew we were all wondering which of our friends we would be mourning in the next few days.

 Everyone nodded, and Duncan assigned Jowan, Faren, Zevran, Sten, and Bel to accompany Aedan, and Anders, Solona, Oghren, Mornwulf, and Leliana to Alistair.  Prince was to stay with me.

 “Now, one last item.  We all know that only a Grey Warden can kill the Archdemon.  The battalions have all been instructed to back off and provide ranged support only once it is on the ground; their purpose will be to protect us from the darkspawn it calls to defend itself when injured.  The same goes for Leliana and Morrigan.  For the Archdemon, there is a kill priority that I expect will be followed.

 “As the most senior Warden, I will be the first to attempt to make the killing blow.  If I am slain before I am successful, the next will be Riordan, followed by Dougal and then Conrad.  Loghain has requested that he will be next.

 “After that, the rest of you share equal priority.  Alistair and Aedan are the next most senior, but not by much, and several of the rest of you have requested to be placed above them in the sequence.  I am of the hope that none of you will be placed in that position, but if it happens, whoever is best placed to end it must do so.

 “The last in the order is Sierra.  While not technically a Grey Warden, there is reason to believe she may be able to kill the Archdemon.  I cannot emphasize enough,” he looked at me grimly, “that this is only to happen if every single Grey Warden on the field has been confirmed as dead.  We cannot take the chance that we are wrong, and the Archdemon reappearing after its death.  Is that clear?”

 Everyone else murmured agreement, but Duncan did not take his eyes off me until I nodded. 

 “Everyone, get some rest.  The King has placed several servants at our disposal – if your armour or weapons require maintenance or repair, give them to the servants to deal with.  Get some sleep; we march at dawn.”

 We scattered to our tents after that; Alistair and I shared a snack of bread and cheese, eating silently, an unspoken agreement not to discuss the very terrifying nature of what would happen the following day.  After we ate, we made love, desperately, clinging to each other, bruising each other in our need to be close.  Several times in the night, one of us woke the other to begin again; it wasn’t what Duncan had in mind when he said rest, I was sure, but the connection felt far more critical to our survival than sleep.

 As we lay, panting and recovering our strength, I cuddled up against Alistair’s muscular chest, my hand resting over his heart, one leg thrown across his.

 “So…you talked to your father about me?”

 He huffed out a laugh.  “Not my idea, believe me.  He knew.”

 “Knew we would end up together?”

 “No, no, nothing like that.  Though that would have been good to know.”  He chuckled, and I kissed his shoulder.  “No, he knew how I felt.  Called you a ‘spitfire’ and told me I should pursue you.”

 “You didn’t exactly take his advice, at least, not right away.”  I giggled.  “Unless insinuating I was a prostitute is your idea of romance.”

 He tickled me, digging his fingers into my side while I squealed.  “No, I didn’t.  I told him to go soak his head.  The last thing I needed was advice on my love life from a dead guy, or so I thought.”

 I chuckled and pushed myself up onto an elbow, looking down at my husband’s handsome face in the dim firelight shining through the wall of the tent.  “Did it help?  Seeing him?”

 “Maybe.”  He reconsidered.  “Probably.  You hear so many stories about Maric the Saviour…I think I had a little of the same insecurity as Cailan.  I’d never be able to live up to his legacy.  Hearing about him falling off a horse, or following Loghain like a puppy…being manipulated into killing the first woman he loved?  He was human, just like the rest of us, but he still learned how to lead.  It made me at least wonder if I could learn, too.”

 “And you did.  I don’t think you see it, but you could have led instead of Aedan, if you’d wanted.  Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever told you how proud I am of you.”

 I could feel the heat of his blush against my lips as I kissed his cheek softly.  He turned his head, capturing my mouth in a kiss, and then rolled me over and made love to me again, slowly, softly, reverently, until I was absolutely limp in his arms.

 The morning came too soon; we geared up, sharing a last kiss and a frantic embrace, made less comforting by armour. 

 “Come back to me, or I swear, I’ll find you in the afterlife and kill you myself.”

 “Stay safe, and do try to keep Cailan from doing anything stupid, would you?”

 “I love you, Alistair.  I won’t say goodbye – we will be together to celebrate when this is over.”

 “I love you, Sierra.  My wife.  I will see you soon.”

 We smiled tearfully, and stepped out into the pre-dawn light.  The rest of the Wardens were assembled there, exchanging hugs and maudlin goodbyes amongst themselves.

 Duncan kissed my forehead softly.  “Be well, Sierra.  Keep them safe, after I’m gone?”

 I sobbed and clung to him, certain as I could be that it was the last time I would see the only father I or my husband had ever known.  He carefully extracted himself from me, his own eyes suspiciously bright, and handed me off to Leliana while he said his goodbyes to Aedan and Alistair.  She and I hugged until I managed to stop sniffling and wipe my eyes; she kissed both my cheeks and promised she’d see me after the battle.

 Morrigan approached me as I pulled myself together.  “After the battle…” she began.

 “You’ll be gone. I know.  I _am_ grateful you are staying as long as you have.  Are you sure you won’t remain with us?  There aren’t many places in Thedas where you will be as safe as with the Wardens.  You could live with us at Soldier’s Peak.”

 “’Tis a kind offer.  My destiny calls me elsewhere, however.  I would wish…if I could, I would stay.  I did not expect such feelings.”

 “I will see you again.  I know where you’ll be in a few years, after all.”

 “I will miss you, my friend.”  She actually hugged me, voluntarily; it was brief, and I almost missed it in my shock, but I squeezed her gently and then let her go.  She shifted to bird form and perched in the nearest tree to await her group moving out.

 Zevran kissed my cheek and promised to keep Aedan safe; I hugged him tightly, and demanded he keep himself safe as well.  I refused to say goodbye, and he forced a cheeky grin as he walked away from me. 

 Oghren slapped my armoured ass with his gauntlet as he sauntered past, making me screech.  “Have the kegs aired out for us when we get back, toots!”

 I laughed.

 Sten approached me stiffly, bowing formally.  “It has been an honour, Kadan.”

 “Sten…thank you.”  I wrapped my arms around his enormous torso; he patted my shoulder tolerantly.  “And I’m sorry about last night.”

 He looked down at me, his expression possibly…amused?  “It is not your fault I do not wish to engage in useless discussion of feelings.”  He tilted his head slightly.  “I do not have feelings to discuss.”

 I laughed.  “Of course you don’t.”  I released him from the awkward hug.  “I know you Joined to have more information to bring to the Arishok, but thank you for what you are doing.  For us.”

 “I will do my best to keep them safe.  For _you_.”  He looked uncomfortable at the concept.  “If I should fall…”

 “I will send Asala to the Arishok, and tell him what you accomplished here.  He will know that you fulfilled your mission.”

 “Thank you.  Live well…Sierra.”

 It was the first time he’d used my name, to my memory.  I flushed and returned his bow as he walked away.  _I’m just glad he didn’t talk about whether he’d seek me out on the battlefield if the Qunari ever invaded…_

 I shared hugs with Jowan, Faren, Bel, Anders, Solona, and even Wulf, wishing them luck; the Orlesian Grey Wardens each solemnly clasped my forearm.  And that left me with my brother.

 “You’d better come back, Aedan.  I am sure as hell not explaining all of this to Fergus by myself.”

 He chuckled and ruffled my hair; I squawked and slapped his hands away. 

 “I love you, little sister.”

“I love you too, big brother.  Don’t do anything stupid – no being a hero, okay?”

 “Who me?  I can’t be a hero.  I’m a rogue, remember?  More rascal than hero.”  I gave him a dirty look, and he pulled me in for one last hug.  “I promise.”

 I didn’t want to watch as the people who meant everything to me walked away, but I lost my resolve, turning and waving until they were out of sight.  I slumped to the ground, and Prince buried his face in my lap with a whine. 

 “I know, boy.  I don’t like it either.”  I cuddled the mabari until someone called me to attend Cailan.

 My morning proved to be very boring.  We were well north of any of the darkspawn, who were approaching our position in the southern bannorn from the Wilds.  The horde had not yet arrived, and I could see the battalion below the cliff I stood upon, the men taking turns resting on the ground, fully armed, and people moving up and down the lines offering water skins and rations of some sort.  Mage-ravens flew in, none providing any news.

 And then, with a prickling feeling in the back of my head, dread filled me as, for the first time, I felt the massive size of the horde approaching.  The battalion stood at the ready; the mages and archers loosing arrows and fireballs with abandon when the first of the horde appeared, and then the first wave of darkspawn rolled over the front lines like fog.

 I couldn’t watch.  I couldn’t stand to see men and women, some of whom I had met or even trained with, dying under that black cloud.  _I’d like to go back to boredom now, please._

 I looked over at Cailan, who appeared to be having as much trouble as I was; he was standing with his eyes squeezed shut, his hand gripping the pommel of his sword so hard his knuckles were white.  His jaw was clenched, his face pale, and I vaguely wondered if he might actually pass out.  I slid over to him while the rest of the people on the cliff with us gawked at the horde and carefully peeled his hand off the sword, sliding my gauntleted fingers into his. 

 He shot me a shaky smile, and I squeezed gently, careful not to crush his bare hand.  We stood there for several, very long minutes, wincing at the sounds of battle that filtered up to where we stood.  I wondered where my husband, my brother, and my honourary father were and how they fared; if they were among the battalion below, I couldn’t tell. 

 I was drawn out of my fearful daze by a brilliant green flash of light off to my distant left; there was a sudden battle cry, and a second battalion entered the fray, slamming into the back of the horde. 

 I followed Cailan over to a large table that had been improvised from planks balanced over a couple of logs; it was covered in a large, detailed map of the area surrounding us.  Cailan picked up a small figurine and moved it near to a second one, sandwiching a black lump of rock between the two.  _So far, so good._   We shared grim smiles and then turned back to the messengers arriving, breathless with the news we’d already figured out for ourselves – the battle had begun.


	110. Engagement

Chapter One Hundred Ten: Engagement

 

It was a miserable afternoon, overall, I had to admit.  I hated not having anything resembling control, I hated feeling useless.  I wanted to at least be down there swinging my daggers and using my darkspawn invisibility to help the armies.  Cailan clearly felt the same, and the two of us silently commiserated every time our gazes met. 

 Messengers kept arriving every few minutes, delivering messages before running off with orders.  A second wave of darkspawn joined the first, but two more of our battalions had entered the fray as well, and the army was holding its own.  The Grey Wardens – we didn’t know which group – had killed a general and a massive collection of ogres.  There was no news on casualties among the Wardens.  The Archdemon had finally been seen, but flying high over the battle, not close enough even for the combined range of the mages.  It was a frightening sight, its hide a malevolent burgundy-purple, purple flames jetting from its mouth as it roared overhead, and then disappeared into the clouds.

 The golems had entered the fight, and had decimated a large group of darkspawn moving to flank one of the battalions.

 The losses were light as these things go, apparently, but it was still staggering to me.  Hundreds of soldiers had perished, and hundreds more would before this was over.  It was all I could do not to cower down into a ball and cover my ears, crying and rocking in grief.

 The fight carried on into the evening; torches had been lit around the battalions as best as they could, and while our visibility from the cliff was limited, apparently they could see fine down below.  The battalions had spread out and lost some of their cohesion, small knots of humans, dwarves, and elves fighting back-to-back against the horde, but they continued to hold their own.

 Off to my right, a blaze of green light lit the sky, and an unexpected battalion of soldiers smashed into the side of the horde, taking everyone by surprise and giving those who had been fighting for hours a much-needed break.  The nobles on the cliff all started talking at once, no one sure where the battalion had come from.

 And then a large, nondescript brown bird landed in the middle of the clearing near the map table, and when the brief flare of magic cleared, one of the Dalish mages Morrigan had taught to shape-change was standing there, wearing minimal clothing – apparently it was difficult to shapeshift while wearing a lot.  I recognised the mage as one of those who’d been sent with Teagan to protect Redcliffe.

 “What are you doing here?” Cailan practically shouted. 

 The mage, a strikingly severe looking elf with black hair, turned to him with an arrogant smirk.  “If his Majesty does not wish a report, I can certainly leave.  I have no doubt my skills can be better used elsewhere.”

 Cailan winced and modulated his tone.  “That’s not what I meant.  You’re from Bann Teagan’s battalion, yes?  Why are you all here?  You’re supposed to be protecting Redcliffe.”

 “The darkspawn never came.  We waited, and I scouted very thoroughly.  There are no darkspawn anywhere near Redcliffe, your Majesty.  Bann Teagan thought we could be more use here than protecting the village from a non-existent threat.”

 Cailan and I exchanged worried glances, and the mage became defensive.  “Believe me-“

 I cut her off.  “We are not doubting your skills, trust me.  What we’re feeling isn’t disbelief, but worry – we know a large group of darkspawn headed west.  If they didn’t go to Redcliffe, where did they go?”

 “I couldn’t say.”  The mage sniffed.  “May I rejoin my battalion?”

 Cailan nodded, his mind clearly already having moved on from the arrogant mage.  “Send out as many scouts as we can spare.  Find those darkspawn.”

 “Do you think they’re heading for Denerim?” I wondered aloud.

 “Let them,” one of the nobles I didn’t recognise laughed.  “We evacuated the city days ago.  They can do some damage to buildings, but they’ll find nothing else for them there.”

 Cailan, however, was staring at the map as if he could divine the answers using his glare alone.  He ignored our speculation, running his fingers over the edges of the parchment thoughtfully.  The nobles talked amongst themselves, seemingly hopeful that the darkspawn had simply gotten lost and could be mopped up once the battle was over.  I wasn’t convinced, and from his expression, neither was Cailan.  He began tracing the route the darkspawn had taken heading west, muttering to himself under his breath.

 And then I turned to him in horror, just as his fingers returned to our current location, the cliff overlooking the main part of the battle.  The tingling in the back of my mind that indicated the proximity to the horde had changed, not only in size, but direction.  Whereas earlier, the entirety of the horde I could sense was to the south, a large group had just appeared on my Grey Warden radar – to the north.  _There were never supposed to be darkspawn north of the scouting lines!_

 Cailan had come to the same conclusion, and I saw his skin go ashen as he realised the only way for a group that large to disappear was to separate into small bands, circle around, and come at us from a different direction – a direction we had absolutely no protection from. 

 Our doom approached us from the north.

 The cliff I stood on, amidst few friendly faces and a gaggle of noble fools, was both a benefit and a curse.  One the one hand, we could not be attacked from the rear by a second set of darkspawn.    However, that came with the drawback of not having anywhere to retreat to.  If we were overwhelmed by the darkspawn we had clearly underestimated, we had nowhere to run.

 “Cailan, they’re coming,” I whispered, hoping no one would notice.  Hoping he’d believe me, even not knowing I was a Grey Warden.  _Had Duncan told him I had special skills with regards to the darkspawn?_

 “How long?”  He seemed to be taking me seriously, at least.

 I considered.  They were about as far away as the horde to the south had been when they first engaged.  _How long would it take darkspawn to cover that distance?_   “A few minutes.  Maybe half an hour if they’re being cautious and scouting ahead.”

 Cailan, while pulling on his gauntlets and helm, appeared to be assessing the crowd around us to determine who would be useful in a fight.  He cleared his throat loudly, calling attention to himself, and the whispering stopped; the majority had no idea what danger approached us, and had been gossiping while I had been struggling to contain my panic.

 Cailan hastily called Sereda, Eamon, Lanaya, Irving, Greagoir, a small handful of nobles, most of whom I didn’t know, and every messenger, mage, and scout we had into a nearby tent, dragging me with him by the arm.  Prince followed me, and I gripped one of the spikes on his ridiculous armour lightly, thankful for the metal-lined leather that prevented me from slicing my hand on the sharpened point.  He instructed one of those remaining outside to make sure every torch we could find or make was lit, leaving a confused nobleman to carry through with his orders.

 “The missing darkspawn who we believed would attack Redcliffe are coming here.”  The news was ominous enough to earn a complete hush in the small group that surrounded us.

 “How can you be sure?”  I didn’t recognise the dwarf, someone Sereda had brought with her to the meeting.

 Cailan met my eyes, and I shook my head slightly.  “You’ll have to trust me,” he replied, turning away from me.  “I need you messengers to go now – run, as fast as you can.  Those who can fly, do.  The nearest battalion that might be able to render aid is southeast, past the hill.”  Two mages and a handful of men in light leathers exited the tent at a run, faces pale and sweaty with fear.  Cailan waited for them to be gone, and turned back to the rest.  “What forces can we muster until aid arrives?  We must hold out until they get here.”

 They had a brief discussion – each noble had a handful of men-at-arms, we had a couple of circle mages, a dozen or so templars, a few Dalish archers, and the leaders themselves.  I briefly thanked the Maker the nobles were dwarven and Fereldan, not Orlesian – at least most of them knew how to fight, and the Dalish Keepers were all mages, some offensive and some better at healing.  All told, we had perhaps a hundred fifty combatants.  And I couldn’t tell the size of the approaching horde, but from the reports of the group we expected to head to Redcliffe, we were outnumbered.  Badly.

 I barely listened to the conversation as Cailan quickly instructed everyone to have their men geared up and pulled into ranks north of the camp.  I was trying to assess the size of the horde, and how fast they were moving, and didn’t even notice that the tent had emptied out until Cailan touched my shoulder.

 “You alright?”

 I jumped, startled, and then nodded with a shaky laugh.  “Fantastic.  What could possibly go wrong?”

 He smirked, then slumped.  “I need you to stay up here, Sierra.”

 I looked at him, frowning.  “What-?”

 He interrupted me.  “Alistair will kill me if anything happens to you.”

 “And Ferelden will be thrust back into a civil war if anything happens to you!  We’re going to need every capable fighter we have if we want to survive this, Cailan.  I’ll not sit up here and wait for the horde to break through if I can improve our odds any.  Besides, the darkspawn can’t see me.  I’m in less danger than anyone else on this god-forsaken hill.”

 “Why is that, again?”

 I rolled my eyes.  “Later.  Could we focus on the approaching horde?”

 He laughed.  “Maker, it’s refreshing talking to someone who doesn’t treat me differently than everyone else.”

 “Cailan!”  I was exasperated.  “Now isn’t the time!  We need to get out there and get ready.  And I need to be at the front lines.  I can hopefully give us some warning, and a slight advantage if there are any emissaries.  Can you put the templars with me?  They might not be strong enough for my abilities individually, but I have an idea.”

 Cailan nodded, and we left the tent.  I weaved my way through frantic men and women throwing on armour and trying to limber up before the battle, Cailan on my heels, until we reached the area where the few soldiers we had were assembling.  The King began shouting orders for mages, archers, and melee fighters, while I knelt in front of the mabari following me.

 “Prince, go to Aedan.”  He whined, and I rubbed his ear gently.  “I know, but where I’m going, you can’t help.  I’ll be fine – I’m in more danger with you than without.”  I kissed his nose.  “Give him that kiss for me, okay?”

 He barked and nipped playfully at my fingers, then with a last lick, he brushed against me and took off at a run, nose to the ground looking for Aedan’s scent.  I turned with a mournful sigh and approached Greagoir.

 “Knight Commander?”

 “What?”  His irritated voice moderated when he saw me, helmet in hand.  _Now he has to be polite to me, I suppose._   “Yes, my Lady?”

 I’d already given him crap for calling me ‘highness’, so I figured I’d have to live with being a lady for a while, anyway.  “I was hoping you and your men would stay with me.  There are likely to be at least a handful of emissaries with this group, and with your help, we may be able to neutralise them before they get into the fight.”

 “Most of my men don’t have your sort of range, my lady.  Half of them can only smite someone within their sword’s reach.”

 “I know.  But have you been working with them, practicing sharing and holding mana, like I taught you?”  He nodded.  “I propose that I steal the mana of the emissaries, and then hand it off.  I can only keep two, or maybe three, silenced completely at a time if I’m on my own, but if I have someone to take the burden from me as I grab them, I can keep going.”

 “Can’t you just explode them, like you claimed you did at Ostagar?”

 “I’ve never learned to control that.  Not enough opportunities for practice!  I’d rather we had a plan.  Even if you leave a couple of men.  Please?  I won’t be able to manage alone.”

 “And who will be watching the mages?”  He had the audacity to glare in the direction of Lanaya and the other Dalish Keepers, and I groaned and face-palmed.

 “I think we can trust them not to turn on us in the middle of a life-threatening battle, don’t you?  And if one of them becomes an abomination, we’ll just back off and let it kill as many darkspawn as it can before they take it down.”

 He grimaced at me, but couldn’t really debate my point.  Finally, he nodded and assigned me three of the strongest templars in the bunch.  I had them gather around as Greagoir stalked towards Irving with a completely irritated expression.

 “Alright, fellas, here’s how it’s going to work.  You all know how to hold mana?”  They nodded, their helmets interfering with me becoming familiar with them.  _Creepy._   “Any of you manage to form a shield yet?”  They shook their heads.  “Alright.  I’ll pull the mana when they get close enough.  Then one at a time, I’ll hand off as much as you can hold.  Once the emissaries are disabled, I’ll take it back and use it for shields until we’re all empty again.  Alright?  And no running off, no engaging in the fight unless we’re directly threatened.  I know you are told how much damage an unrestrained mage can do – these emissaries are the strongest mages you’ve ever encountered, and there isn’t even the smallest chance they mean well.  Our job will be the most important of this battle.  Understood?”

 They all agreed, and I brought them with me to stand a few ranks back from the front line.  I passed Cailan, and nodded gravely when I caught his eye.  I briefly felt for the darkspawn, realising they were almost upon us.  I held out two fingers towards Cailan, and he acknowledged it with a sigh.

 He shouted some orders, and the soldiers drew their weapons.  The archers stood at the ready, arrows nocked but bows not drawn – no point in wasting their strength when they couldn’t yet see what they were shooting.

 The one thing that may have helped us was the thick forest at the base of the hill; the darkspawn wouldn’t be able to swarm us as a unit, because they’d have to weave through the trees.  It was probably also what bought us the time to get ready.  We were also up the hill, but it wasn’t steep enough to be much of an advantage.

 Drawing my daggers, surrounded by three hulking men in templar armour, each with a hand on one of my shoulders, I slapped my helmet down on my head and concentrated on sensing magic in front of us, and ignoring the aura behind me from our own group of mages.

 The first rank of darkspawn appeared through the trees, mostly genlocks, and the archers began firing.  A giant fireball slammed into the centre of the line, and lit a swath of trees on fire.  I looked over to see Irving standing in a circle with some of the other mages, chanting and holding his staff upright.  Smaller bolts of elemental energy streaked past as well, and another clump of genlocks fell to the ground, seizing, as they were struck by lightning.

 And then I could feel the first greasy aura of darkspawn magic, and I reached out and grabbed it, interrupting whatever the emissary had been about to do.  I was jostled as the army around me engaged the darkspawn, but quickly regained my equilibrium, transferring the mana I held to the first templar.

 It was mind-numbing work, ignoring the clashing of steel and the screams around me, pushing out my senses, finding magic, and taking it; it was immediately clear to me that, while the three templars with me were the strongest of those with us on the hill, they were nowhere near as resistant to magic as I.  Each one could hold barely more than one emissary’s mana, and if I tried to give them more than they could take, they became lightheaded and woozy – one even developed a nosebleed, a thin trickle of blood running out under his helmet.  So I disabled one emissary after another, and by the time I had half-a-dozen under control, our abilities were tapped.

 Instructing the three to stay put, I changed tactics, racing out past the soldiers holding the darkspawn back, avoiding burning trees and slipping through gaps between darkspawn, looking for the emissaries I’d already disabled.  Fireballs had started being thrown at our overwhelmed troops – I didn’t have much time.

 It was dark, the only light coming from the fires, though I found I could navigate somewhat by following the taint.  I found the first emissary, slitting his throat and releasing some of the pressure in my head, so I turned and grabbed the mana of the one who’d just cast the fireball.  The pattern continued, and I worked my way through the woods, stabbing hurlocks and genlocks who presented convenient targets as I went.

 I wended my way back towards our forces when I couldn’t find any more emissaries to kill.  My daggers were dripping with darkspawn blood, and I was sure I had splashes across my armour, but I was unharmed.  I left the woods and paused, awestruck, as I watched the battle unfold.

 The soldiers, illuminated by harsh torchlight, fought like their lives depended on it – which they did, if we were being honest – and they each cut down multiple darkspawn for every man we lost.  The nobles, identifiable in their flashier, though still functional armour, were a sight to behold, cleaving and slashing at darkspawn.

Even knowing Aedan, despite playing the game as often as I had, I had entirely underestimated the military prowess of the Fereldan and dwarven nobility as a whole.  _They may be foolish nobles, but that’s not all they are._   I watched Cailan decapitate a hurlock alpha with his massive great sword, while some nobleman at his back slid his longsword into a vulnerable point in a genlock’s armour and kicked the corpse away to keep fighting.  They were all impressive, the dwarves favouring axes, the humans mainly carrying swords, and they fought almost as well as the Grey Wardens I was used to fighting beside.  But it still wasn’t going to be enough – despite their obvious skill, the greater numbers of the darkspawn were wearing them down.

  _That battalion better get here soon._

 I spotted Irving and the other mages, conserving mana and concentrating on healing, no longer able to avoid friendly fire if they threw more offensive spells.  A group of templars defended them from darkspawn that managed to break through to where they were standing.

 I briefly looked for my three-templar group, unsurprised not to find them where I’d left them.  I sighed and dove back into the fray, taking out a couple of genlocks and a shriek as I made my way towards Cailan.

 The two of us fought side-by-side, protecting each other, as an endless stream of darkspawn came pouring out of the woods.  Not being able to see me protecting Cailan’s back, the ‘spawn must have assumed he was a terrible fighter, leaving his back so exposed; it made it easy for me to find gaps in their armour or slit throats when they got cocky.  The worst part was periodically getting coated in the spray off Cailan’s blade; I hoped I wouldn’t have to dispose of my new armour, if I survived, because I was pretty sure that there wasn’t enough money in Thedas to convince Paider to make me another set.

 My arms were getting tired, the fight dragging on longer than any battle I’d been in before, when suddenly I froze, almost getting Cailan killed as I stared off into the woods, unseeing.  He spun, decapitated the hurlock I’d completely missed, and dragged me back a few steps into relative safety.

 “Sierra?”

 I shook myself and focused on him.  “Emissary.  Or something.  There’s magic, like I’ve never felt before. I…”  I trailed off, thinking desperately.  Nothing I’d encountered before had an aura this large, that…malignant.  I shuddered.  _It’s so much larger…do ogres have emissaries?  Is that a thing?_

 Something about that thought triggered a half-formed idea in my mind.  Ogres…emissaries… _when had I seen ogres and emissaries?_   And then it occurred to me.

 “Son of a bitch!  It’s the general.”

 “What?”

 “One of the Archdemon’s generals, the ones who help keep the horde organised…one of them is a mage.  A really, really, nasty mage.  And he’s almost here.”

 Cailan blanched.  “Can you…do your templar thing?”

 “I don’t know.  He’s much more powerful than the others.  And I can’t transfer mana in the middle of taking it even if I had someone to share it with.”

 Cailan looked confused, and I shook my head in frustration.  “Never mind.  I’ll see what I can do.”

 I stepped towards the woods, needing to be slightly closer to the source of all of that magic.  Cailan ended up back-to-back with one of the dwarves, being swarmed as soon as I stepped away, but the darkspawn just went around me, as usual.

 And then I saw the general step into our clearing.  He was a hurlock, that much was clear, but he was a good foot taller than the largest alpha I’d ever seen, and he wore a set of impressive, matching armour – a far cry from the scavenged garbage most of the darkspawn wore.  He was carrying an enormous axe, instead of a staff, but he gestured with it and a bolt of lightning shot out towards our forces.  I used the last of the mana I held to shield Cailan; the lightning arced around him and struck the dwarf beside him, who fell to the ground, twitching but alive.  I turned back to see a huge wave of darkspawn move forward, seemingly at the general’s command.  There were several emissaries scattered between the other darkspawn, and one at a time, they began casting.

 I needed to interrupt the general, but I couldn’t leave so many other emissaries to attack Cailan’s position either.  I’d never seen so many emissaries together; regardless of the size of the feint, there were far more than we should have expected.  I snuck through the oncoming darkspawn, stealing mana and slitting the throat of the first emissary I encountered.  It screamed and fell, and I ducked just in time to miss being decapitated by a nearby alpha.  The alpha’s axe became buried in the skull of a genlock, to my amusement; I dodged away as three more darkspawn attacked the spot I’d just been standing in, and I paused, gaping.

 I finally understood: this was a darkspawn hunting party – and they were hunting me.

 I changed my tactics, stealing the mana of an emissary farther away, and stabbing a nearby one with my daggers before dropping to the ground and rolling away from the resulting attacks.  More darkspawn died accidentally as they all tried to find me, but while I enjoyed their bad luck, I knew it wouldn’t last.  I wasn’t going to be able to keep it up forever.  I was fast, but my main advantage had always been surprise, and I’d lost it.

 Instead, I crept to one side and grabbed the mana of the first emissary I saw, too far away for any of the darkspawn to guess my location and attack me.  I could feel the pressure in my head – I was holding the entire mana pools of two emissaries, and I was close to my limit.  I ignored it, closing my eyes and reaching out again for the third. 

 I felt like my head would explode; it was too much.  But as I opened my eyes and glanced around, I saw two more emissaries start casting.  Cailan’s shield had long worn off, and even if I replaced it, it wasn’t going to be enough to save him from two mages and a general trying to kill him.  He was fighting desperately now, so many of those surrounding him having died to protect him. 

 I took a deep breath and reached out once more.

 


	111. Overload

Chapter One Hundred Eleven: Overload

 

My nose started pouring blood as I picked up the mana of the fourth emissary.  My vision went blurry, my balance was off, and I started to sway unsteadily on my feet.  _One more, Sierra.  Just one more._   Not that I had any idea what I’d do with the general once the emissaries were subdued, but I could only take it a step at a time.

 I spent a moment trying to adjust to the flood of mana, removing my helmet and gripping my nose to stem the bleeding, before reaching out once again.  I was so distracted by my headache as I stripped the last emissary that I didn’t feel the change, didn’t notice what was happening with the darkspawn around me.  I was completely oblivious to the approach of the general, who’d clearly been watching the horde move around me and had deduced my location.

 I looked up just in time to see an axe descending towards me, with not enough time to dodge, and I closed my eyes in resignation.  _I’m going to die on this God-forsaken hill.  I’m sorry, Alistair._   But the blow never came, and I opened my eyes again as a sword deflected the axe away from me. 

 I was roughly shoved aside by an armoured figure, and fell on my ass – between the pressure in my head and the push, I completely lost my balance.  When I managed to regain my equilibrium, I looked up to see Duncan standing over me, engaging the now-enraged general.  And then the rest of the noise from the battlefield filtered in to my awareness, and I looked around in a daze to see Riordan beheading one of the emissaries whose mana I held, while Conrad and Loghain stood back to back fighting a group of hurlocks.  Further away, a group of soldiers fought their way through the horde to reach Cailan, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

 The battalion had arrived, and brought a group of Wardens with it.

 I scrambled to my feet, finding the daggers which I’d dropped in my fall, the pressure in my head now more bearable as the emissaries were slowly eliminated; I pivoted back and grabbed the mana from the darkspawn-from-hell Duncan was fighting just in time to see the Warden Commander freeze as the general shouted in his face, something unintelligible and unspeakably dark. 

 He just stood there, looking confused, as the general’s axe was embedded deeply in his side.

 I shouted, my voice lost in the clashing of swords and the battle cries around me; it felt like slow motion, like something out of a cheesy action movie, as Duncan slowly crumpled to his knees, then began tipping backwards to the ground. 

 I felt the pressure in my head flow out around me before I knew what I was doing, and the remaining three emissaries and the general were knocked off their feet by a powerful blast wave that completely missed Riordan, Loghain, and the rest of the people around me.  The emissaries landed in pools of their own blood, none of them rising again, but the general rolled over, clearly dazed but alive.  He was bleeding from the mouth and one eye was badly damaged, the socket deformed, the black eyeball drooping, but he slowly struggled up to his knees, trying to stand.

 I screeched angrily, gripping my daggers and preparing to lunge at it, when a great sword descended in my peripheral vision and the general’s head flew a couple of feet, bouncing a little ways down the hill; arterial spray of darkspawn blood arced out and covered me as I looked over to see Cailan standing, chest heaving with exertion, leaning on his blade for support.

 I turned back and dropped to my knees at Duncan’s side; Cailan did the same, and helped me roll him over to rest against my lap.  I wasn’t surprised to see his vacant stare, blood trickling out of his slack mouth, but I had hoped he could have survived.  I cried and wrapped my arms around his ruined torso as Cailan pulled the heavy axe out of his wound and dropped it.  With shaky hands, I closed the eyes of the man I wished had been my father, then buried my face against his shoulder and broke down completely.

 I sobbed for what could have been only a minute, or might have been an hour – I couldn’t honestly say one way or the other – until finally Cailan and Riordan approached me.  Cailan pulled me into his arms as Riordan gently, reverently shifted the body I held back to the ground.  The Warden pulled off his own cloak and threw it over the corpse, before setting the two swords Duncan had fought with across his chest.

 Cailan lifted me to my feet, and without letting go, half-dragged, half-carried me towards the camp behind us.  The army that had arrived had mopped up the rest of the darkspawn that ambushed us, and the dead were being painstakingly laid out for later cremation; I didn’t really register any of it as Cailan lowered me to the ground in what I realised had been set up as a makeshift infirmary.  All around me, warriors screamed or moaned in pain from horrific injuries, while the remaining mages, Irving and a couple of others, did their best to tend the wounds. 

 Irving came over immediately, kneeling in front of me and asking me something; the question didn’t even penetrate the haze I was surrounded by.  All I could think of was that Duncan had died because of me.  And now someone else would have to die to slay the Archdemon, someone who could have been saved, maybe my brother, or my husband, or one of the others I’d come to love like family over the last year, and it was my fault.

 I twitched, startled, when Irving’s magic aura swelled and he ran healing magic over me; it didn’t last long before the exhausted-looking mage stood and spoke briefly with Cailan.  The words ‘shock’ and ‘comfort’ penetrated the mist around me, and then Irving was gone.  I felt Cailan settle to the ground behind me, pulling me back into his arms, as he started whispering comforting nonsense in my ear.

 I finally stirred when Riordan knelt in front of me again, offering me the daggers I had dropped when I had seen Duncan fall.

 “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

 Riordan had to lean in to hear me over the noise around us.  “Pardon?”

 “It’s my fault,” I elaborated.  “I’m sorry.”

 “Sierra-“ Cailan began, but Riordan silenced him with a gesture.

 I continued sadly, “I got him killed, and now you’re going to die.”

 Riordan sighed and took my hand.  “It’s no one’s fault but the darkspawn’s, and the one to blame is dead.  You are not responsible for his death, any more than you will be responsible for mine.  And, my Lady, I was always going to die in this fight.  I do not wish to return to Orlais to await my Calling, and we both know I don’t have much time.  As for Duncan…you thought of him as a father, and he thought of you as a daughter.  I cannot imagine any way he would rather die than to protect his little girl.  I know he is at the Maker’s side, and I guarantee he does not harbour any regrets about how he died.”  His voice cracked and wavered on the last words.

 Surrounded by screaming, injured men, my brother-in-law and my honourary father’s brother-at-arms held me while I cried, mourning the bravest, best man I’d ever known.

 Finally Cailan was called away, and it forced me to start pulling myself together.  Riordan, looking as depressed as I felt, offered me a scrap of cloth to dry my eyes and blow my nose, then gave me a hand up.

 Something occurred to me as I looked at his sympathetic face.  “Wait, what are you guys doing here?  You’re supposed to be taking down the Archdemon.”

 Riordan nodded.  “So far, it hasn’t come close enough for the mages or bolas to get a hit.  We wondered if it might wait until the generals were both dead to come nearer.  We were wandering more-or-less aimlessly, killing ogres and the like, looking for the general, until we heard you’d been attacked.  Duncan,” he swallowed, his voice cracking slightly, “immediately knew it would take the intelligence of a general to pull off such a feint.  And we were the closest Wardens, so we came to ensure the general was killed.”

 My head snapped up, glancing around at the other Wardens where they were aiding the injured to reach the infirmary.  “Then you need to get back out there!” I hissed.  “What if the Archdemon lands while you’re here?  Don’t wait for me.  I’ll be fine.  Go, go, go!”

 I made a shooing gesture, and Riordan tried to chuckle, almost succeeding.  “Going, your Highness.  Right away.”

 I didn’t waste any time herding the four of them together.  They spent a few moments checking their light packs for supplies, and I ran to get them a few extra potions from the camp.  As they were all shouldering their bags, I felt a foreboding, sickening presence, and looked up in time to see the Archdemon fly over.  Its scales reflected almost blood-red in the torchlight; it let out an ear-shattering roar, presumably angry that its general had been killed, and I shuddered.  It circled once, then winged off in the direction of the main body of the horde.

 “Hurry!” I demanded; Loghain began muttering at me in irritation, even as the three Orlesians laughed at my antics.  I began ushering them down the hill, when a voice rang out behind me.

 “Hold!”

 I sighed and turned; the Wardens all bowed to Cailan, while I just scowled at the delay.  His news made my mood even worse.

 Cailan ignored my glare.  “Riordan, the surviving nobles and this battalion will accompany you to the rest of the army.  You’re going to need all the help you can get, and we need a new command post – we’re too exposed on this hill.  Please be ready to march in ten minutes.”

 Riordan nodded as Cailan turned to walk away, and I heard Loghain rumble some sort of complaint, quickly quashed by the senior Warden.  I followed the blond monarch as he headed back up the hill. 

 “Cailan…”

 He turned.  “I know, Sierra.  But they’re not going to make it to the Archdemon, as it stands.  We’ve had news of another group breaking off from the main body of the horde and heading towards us.  We need to engage them before they can over-run the encampment – we need to protect the injured and get the Wardens where they need to go.  They’ll never make it through with that group between them and the Archdemon.”

 “If they down the Archdemon before Riordan gets there…”

 “It’ll be fine.  There are almost a dozen more Wardens down there somewhere.”

 I shot him a horrified look, and then realised from his confused frown that Duncan hadn’t been as honest as he had implied.  _Not that he ever fully said, he just let me assume…_ I struggled to stifle the irritation that flared.  _Don’t speak ill of the dead._

 “Cailan, the Warden who kills the Archdemon…he dies.  Alistair is down there.  Aedan is down there!  If Riordan doesn’t get there in time…”

 Cailan’s puzzled look morphed to one of pure horror.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 “I thought Duncan had!”  _Stupid Grey Warden secrets_.  “Cailan – we need to hurry.”

 He nodded and raced off towards the milling nobles, shouting orders and demanding greater speed.  I grabbed my own pack from the camp, my Earth items tucked in the bottom, rations and potions on top for ease of use.  I realised I’d left my daggers somewhere, and headed back to the infirmary to find them lying amidst the injured.

 The infirmary had gotten worse, since I’d walked away; there were men with missing limbs, head wounds, blood and guts spilling from ruined bodies, and I almost threw up as I retrieved my daggers and hurried away with alacrity.  Greagoir approached me as I rushed, and I took a deep breath, hoping not to throw up on his boots.

 “I saw what you did, with those emissaries.”

 I sighed.  “I lost the men you left with me.  I had to do something.”

 “Impressive work.  One day I hope you will consent to teaching us that tactic.”

 “Honestly, and I’m not trying to be rude, but I doubt it will work.  I’m pretty sure I almost died trying to hold that much mana.  Anyone with even slightly lesser resistance…well, it either wouldn’t have worked, or they’d have gone down in a blaze of glory.”

 He nodded, disappointed.  “Well, anyway, well done.”

 “Tell me Cullen survived?”

 He glanced over at a group of identical, helmeted templars in matching armour; I wasn’t sure anyone would be able to tell them apart, but Greagoir nodded.  “He’s fine.”

 “Good.  Don’t forget Kirkwall.”

 He nodded again, and I excused myself to go back and sit beside Riordan, who was slumped on the hill, just waiting.

 “Hey, where’s Morrigan, anyway?”

 “Flying around somewhere.  We wanted her to locate the Archdemon when it got close so she could direct us to it.”

 “Ah.”  I considered.  “But…does she know you’re over here?”

 “I do.”

 I jumped and swivelled to see the raven-haired witch smirking at me from behind.

 “The beast has made two passes over parts of the army.  There have been some burns, but none severe.  I believe the bola launchers and Circle sheep are moving into position now.  I suggest we move, immediately, if you still wish to arrive before it is downed.”

 “We have to wait for the King,” I whined.

 She scoffed.  “He does not command the Grey Wardens, last I checked.”

 “No,” Riordan responded before Loghain’s red-face could turn into an angry outburst, “but we have agreed to work together as a cohesive force.  And especially now, without our Commander, we really don’t have much choice.”

 “He’s not going to listen to a bunch of Orlesian Wardens,” Conrad opined, “never mind Loghain.  And if the horde has moved as he says, he’s not wrong.  We need him to have a hope of getting there.”

 She sniffed, but I was surprised by the lack of response.  She turned to me, taking in my tear-stained face.  “Duncan perished?”

 I just nodded, still too miserable, too guilty to talk about it. 

 “I am sorry.”  She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable.  “I shall go check on Aedan and Alistair.”

 Riordan agreed, and she shifted back into a blackbird, taking off to sail effortlessly over the horde.  I knew that checking on the others was her way of helping me in my grief, and I truly appreciated it.  I briefly wished I’d had the presence of mind to give her one last hug, but I knew she wouldn’t want it anyway.

 Finally, Cailan had the battalion ready to move.  He put me in the middle with the other Wardens and himself, directing those at the front to move as quickly as possible to engage the horde, and hopefully allow the four Wardens to slip through in the chaos.

 I’d never done a forced march; it was much different than the rather casual walking through the Bannorn I had become accustomed to over the previous year, and I was grateful for all the training and travelling we had done.  _Earth Sierra could never have kept up._   We caught sight of the forerunners of the horde before long, and then we came across a last hill before the plain on which the rest of the army fought.  Cailan halted us at the top of the hill, hoping to use the geography to our advantage, and even Loghain mumbled reluctant praise at the idea.  The battalion got into formation, the single mage not left with the infirmary wagons began casting glyphs down the hill in front of us, and the soldiers drew their weapons, waiting expectantly.  It took only a few minutes before we were fighting again.

 These darkspawn fought with much less cohesion than the previous group we’d faced, proof that the generals were what provided the organization, and the battle wore on with fewer casualties than we had experienced earlier.  The Wardens engaged an ogre and took it down, and then I lost track of them for a while.

 We’d apparently thinned the ranks of emissaries, and I came across only two; I stole their mana, and wasn’t attacked.  The hunting was apparently over, for now.

 We finally killed the last of the offshoot from the horde; the Wardens were ahead of us, moving fast towards the rest of the army.  The battalion, moving as quickly as possible, followed in their wake, leaving the less wounded men to tend to those who needed aid.

 We marched across ground that had already been fought for, and it squelched under my feet with each step, human and darkspawn blood mingling into a reddish-black ooze.  There was no breeze, and the metallic tang of blood in the air was so strong that I could almost taste it _.  I wonder if anything will ever grow here again._   With a brief glance at the battalion’s remaining mages, I wondered how thin the veil had become with all the violence and bloodshed.

 I felt the Archdemon before I saw it, spinning in place to see it flying low, looking to do a strafing run over the entire battalion. I screamed out an order to run and hide, which was echoed by the four Grey Wardens; I had to give the troops credit – they followed orders.  The men scattered, some dodging into the trees, others ducking behind rocks.  Those that couldn’t get out completely dove to the ground, hoping to roll out of the way, or cowered under raised shields.

 I took one quick look behind me to see Cailan being hustled away by one of his advisors before throwing myself down behind a small boulder with a handful of others.  I heard screaming, as the Archdemon flew over – clearly not everyone had gotten to safety.  I held my arm over my face as the wind whipped around me, stirred by the powerful flapping of the dragon’s wings, then ran out to help once the beast was out of range.

 Only a dozen or so soldiers had been injured, most of those with non-life-threatening burns only.  A few would have significant scarring – they screamed, trying not to touch the skin where it had been melted by spirit fire, or whatever those purple flames were.  Again, the less injured helped the more severe back towards the makeshift infirmary.  I hoped Irving was good with burns.

 Abandoning formation, Cailan demanded that the remaining members of the battalion separate and make their way to the ongoing battle in smaller groups, hoping to avoid repeat performances; the Archdemon flew overhead once, then I lost it in the dim pre-dawn sky.  The battalion edged forward through trees and uneven terrain, sliding down the hill the darkspawn had just climbed.

 As we reached the plain, we heard the Archdemon roar over the distant army, and then a horrific screech.  Squinting in the dim light, I saw one of the beast’s wings stiffen as it flew, and it faltered briefly before managing to catch itself mid-fall and rise again.  _The mages!  A glancing blow, but they’re ready for it._   The next time it tried to strafe the army, the co-ordination was better.  Both wings slowed and one again froze, I assumed due to the mages’ combined frost spells, and then something impacted on the damaged wing.  _The bolas worked even better than I thought!_   The beast screamed, part of the wing shattered, and we all watched in disbelief as the Archdemon crashed heavily to the ground.

 Riordan and the other Grey Wardens with him took off at a run, me and Cailan close at their heels with the rest of the battalion following along.  We encountered a few darkspawn still fighting remnants of the army, and the Grey Wardens cut through them like a hot knife through butter.  The survivors who weren’t too badly injured joined us as we ran, and the battalion’s numbers swelled again the closer we got.

 As we finally approached, I could hear the Archdemon still roaring, followed by the crackle of flames; magic sizzled and swelled, mostly Circle magic from the feel, and I guessed the group of mages who’d helped ground the dragon were now trying to weaken it for the Grey Wardens who were hopefully fighting it.  I could feel other magic, though, as well – darkspawn magic, not like the general, but I guessed there were at least a handful of emissaries casting.  I put on a burst of speed, hoping to get close enough to interrupt them in whatever they were working on; I thought I could replicate what I’d done after the general had slain Duncan, now that I’d seen myself doing it again with more understanding under my belt.

 Finally getting close enough to see, it was clear that the tactics we’d drilled for two months had been very effective.  Each battalion was a cohesive unit, fighting groups of darkspawn that streamed towards the Archdemon.  The mages split their time between slowing and damaging the ogres and the larger clumps of darkspawn, and throwing spells to weaken the Archdemon.  The archers rained down death on the remnants of the horde, while a handful with more powerful crossbows took aim at the Archdemon itself.  And distantly, I could see tiny figures swarming around the feet of the creature, dodging teeth and claws, scrambling away when it started breathing fire.

 I raced towards the emissaries with the Grey Wardens pacing me, but just as I came into range to disrupt their spellcasting, the ground underneath my feet began to rumble.  I was knocked over, my feet flying out from under me, and landed awkwardly on my face and one shoulder with a scream.  I could hear the crunching and moaning of armoured figures hitting the ground around me, and guessed that all of us were down. 

 When the earth finally quit heaving, I slowly climbed to my feet, only to gape in shock.  We’d made it to within a couple hundred feet of the Archdemon, but between us and it, a massive ravine had opened up, splitting the ground in front of us.  There was a canyon, at least twenty feet deep and fifteen feet wide, with sheer walls and sharp rubble at the bottom, dividing us from the rest of the army.

 Cailan immediately began shouting for the soldiers to form up, sending scouts out, half south and half north, to find a way around; Riordan paced beside the cleft, and I wondered if he was trying to decide if he could jump it, or climb.  A few dwarves raced back to the woods we’d left behind, talking about cutting trees and building bridges.

 I stayed where I was, reaching out angrily to seize the mana of the five emissaries who had cut us off from where my brother and my husband were fighting for their lives.  I managed to control the shockwave, letting out the pressure quickly enough that I didn’t feel like my head would explode, and all of the darkspawn mages crumpled to the ground.

 And then, nothing left to do, I watched helplessly.  I was close enough to see them, now – both Aedan’s and Alistair’s groups were there, trying to take the beast down.  It was injured, black ichor oozing out of its shattered wing, one leg deformed – from the crash landing, I assumed – and multiple wounds were sluggishly bleeding.  The warriors took turns drawing its attention, the mages weakening, freezing, or electrocuting it, the rogues darting underneath or behind to bleed it further.  Even Prince was there, tearing into a hind leg with his teeth.  It was a war of attrition, and it looked like the Grey Wardens were winning.

 To my surprise, despite its injuries, the Archdemon, receiving the first rays of morning sun, reared back, flapping its one good wing, blowing most of the Grey Wardens back a dozen feet, and sending the few it missed scrambling for cover with an enormous torrent of flames.  Aedan went ass over teakettle as he’d dodged a flailing leg just as the wind kicked up, and they all regrouped with him, wearily eyeing the enraged dragon.

 The mages and archers in the army, fighting against a renewed assault by the darkspawn, took a moment to switch from their attackers, sending a last volley of spells and arrows at the failing beast.  A massive frost spell of some sort paralysed its good wing, while the arrows filled it full of holes, and some sort of lightning explosion impacted against its raised chin, rocking it solidly.

 The beast fell, head crashing down to the ground, neck muscles too weak or too damaged to hold it up anymore, and it was clear despite the last gust of flame that the fight was all-but-over.  One more significant hit to the neck or head would be the end of it, and the dragon’s position left those important parts vulnerable.

 It was time for a killing blow, and Riordan, Dougal, Conrad and Loghain were on the wrong side of a chasm they could not cross.

 I saw Aedan square his shoulders, and turn a sorrowful eye on Zevran.  I couldn’t hear what was said, of course, but if I knew my brother, he was saying something stupid like ‘go on without me’ or ‘take care of my sister.’  Zev nodded, a strange, jerky head bob; I started to scream, only to see Aedan’s own mabari jump up and tackle him, take a mouthful of the back of Aedan’s armour and drag him down to the ground.  Before anyone else could do anything about it, the Antivan was sprinting towards the now quiescent dragon.

 I watched, horrified, clinging to Riordan, who groaned softly, as the love of Aedan’s life raised his sword, and as I had seen in the game, thrust it firmly into the back of the neck of the vulnerable, tainted creature.

 A blast wave travelled out from the site of the assassin’s sacrifice, and we barely kept to our feet as it swept past us.  A few of the soldiers closer to the beast fell, the darkspawn taking momentary advantage, until the brilliant light burst out from the corpse.  I had to look away, the intensity agonising, so I couldn’t have said what happened to Zevran.  I blinked quickly, only to see the nearest darkspawn actually incinerated by the explosion while the soldiers were left unharmed.

 After that, it was a complete rout.  Dazed darkspawn were slaughtered without a fight, while others turned tail and tried to flee, and the archers shot them in the back as they ran.  On our side of the chasm, all we could do was stand and watch as the army mopped up the stragglers who weren’t successful at escaping.  A couple dozen dwarves finally returned dragging two large tree trunks, which were stripped of their branches, lashed together, and dropped over the ravine.

 Riordan and the other Wardens were the first to cross, followed by me, Cailan, and the other nobles.  The battalion behind me had been instructed to begin gathering more wood for pyres, setting up a larger infirmary, and preparing for the dead and wounded, while the rest of the fighters – warriors and rogues, humans, dwarves and elves, mages and templars, sank to the ground where they stood, exhausted and shaky from the remains of their battle highs.

 I found my brother, who was barely being restrained by the combined efforts of Sten and Alistair, as he attempted to break free and go to Zevran.  Prince whined pitifully, Alistair tried murmuring reassuring nonsense, while Sten tried appealing to his logic.

 “You cannot approach yet, Warden.  It helps no one if you perish too.”

 I didn’t think either would be successful, given the wracking sobs shaking his frame; I got in front of him and wrapped my arms around his neck, just holding tight until he slumped into my arms and we both sank to the ground, Prince burying his muzzle in the small space between our bellies.  I suppressed sobs of my own, trying to be strong for my brother.  _Trying not to break down demanding forgiveness._

 I looked around, catching Alistair’s eye and exchanging a meaningful glance I couldn’t have explained if I tried, but it was full of sadness, regret, but also hope and relief _.  I’m so lucky.  Thank you, Maker, for sparing him._   I broke the gaze to check everyone else out while Aedan cried on my shoulder.  _Nothing like feeling guilty for being relieved._

 “Where is Duncan?” someone finally asked, and I just shook my head in sorrow as Riordan hurried to tell everyone he hadn’t made it and that we could discuss the details later.

 I caught a last glimpse of Morrigan, who smiled sadly, raised one hand in an unexpected wave, and then shapeshifted into a bird and flew off.  Sten had backed off and stood stoically cleaning his blade.  The mages huddled together, Anders and Solona clinging to each other, the healer looking positively grey, while Jowan hovered awkwardly.  _I think they’re all out of mana, if their skin colour is anything to go by_.  Faren and Bel were bandaging up superficial wounds on each other, then started making the rounds to see who else needed it.

 Leliana and Mornwulf spoke quietly, the bard’s eyes suspiciously bright.  Oghren stood, holding his hammer sadly, staring at the place where the elf had disappeared.

 “Never thought the nug-humper had it in him,” he muttered.  “Sod it, this wasn’t supposed to be how it happened.”

 “He planned it, I think,” Alistair wondered aloud.  “He said something in Antivan to Prince just before he tackled Aedan.”  He came over to where I held my brother and offered me a hand; I clung to it, needing the reassurance of contact with my husband.

 I nodded, sniffling.  “Why else do you think he Joined?”  I sighed.  “Do you think we can go look for… um…” I didn’t want to say the words ‘body’ or ‘corpse’, though I had no other terms that were more acceptable. 

 I glanced at Riordan, who had signalled a group of mages before staring at the Archdemon speculatively.  “I think it will be safe.”  He lowered his voice, speaking to Alistair and me alone.  “I’ll make arrangements for the blood to be collected.  Why don’t you go look?”

 Alistair helped me hoist Aedan, but I still held my brother’s hand as we shuffled towards the dragon’s corpse.  I heard clomping behind me, and guessed the other Wardens had come to help look, and pay their respects.

 It was several long minutes before we found Zevran, his slight frame crumpled up against the beast’s neck where it couldn’t initially be seen.  It took all of us to shift the dragon’s head so we could reach him, and Aedan dropped to his knees beside the assassin without touching him. 

 “It should have been me,” he moaned, renewed tears streaking down his face.  “Why am I always the one left behind?”

 I knelt to pull him into my arms again, letting him sob against my neck; Leliana patted my shoulder as she stepped past us, bending down to straighten out the body.  Zevran looked unscathed, I noticed vaguely; his face was covered in dirt and darkspawn blood, but he was otherwise unmarked.  Leliana eased him into a supine position, crossing his arms across his chest.  She went to close his eyes, and then twitched, startled, as she realised they weren’t open.  I’d seen enough death to know that was unusual – very few people who died in battle did so with closed eyes.  The bard brushed her fingers against his temple, smearing some of the dirt and fondly smoothing back a lock of his hair, when a voice I never thought I would hear again croaked out softly.

 “If you wanted to run your hands through my hair, my dear Leliana, you had only to ask, yes?”

 


	112. No Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the unedited, M-rated version of this chapter with detailed smut. If you prefer less detail, please check me out on fanfiction.net under the same username.

Chapter One Hundred Twelve: *No Regrets

                                               

“If you wanted to run your hands through my hair, my dear Leliana, you had only to ask, yes?”

 Leliana sprang away from the blond elf like someone had hit her with a taser.  It might have been hilarious, if it hadn’t been so shocking and serious and horrific a moment before.  As it was, not one of us didn’t gasp, twitch, jump, fall over, scream, or otherwise express horror, which rapidly transmuted into humour, as the reality of Zevran’s survival sank in.

 Aedan leapt out of my arms, lunging towards the supine elf; oblivious and uncaring who was watching, he showered kisses on the former Crow’s face before burying his own face in Zev’s neck and sobbing unrestrainedly.  Zev reached up awkwardly to rub his back, murmuring endearments in Antivan.

 Alistair, behind me, barked out a semi-hysterical laugh, and that broke the ice for everyone else; the entire group began talking and laughing, too happy to even speculate on the strange events that had brought us to this point.

 As for me, I froze, kneeling where Aedan had left me moments before, staring open-mouthed at the assassin in shock, mind reeling.  _How?  It isn’t possible, unless…_ Something occurred to me, and I narrowed my eyes, turning my head to examine my companions who were all celebrating in obvious relief.  _So Morrigan sticking around wasn’t for my benefit, after all, as she’d claimed.  Who?  Someone did that damned ritual, but who?_

 Zevran blinked at me over Aedan’s head, confused as well.  “I rather thought I’d wake up dead…or not at all, as the case may be.”

 I frowned.  “You’ve used that line already.”  _He’s genuinely surprised to be alive…strike Zevran and Aedan off the list of suspects.  Aedan was far too afraid he’d died to be the one._   I looked around some more.

 Alistair wasn’t on the list in the first place – I knew where he’d slept every night since we’d gotten back together, and it wasn’t with Morrigan.  Anders was deep in an embrace with Solona, a blissful look on his face as he held her like he’d never let go, and I crossed him off my mental list as well.  A quick look at Jowan, Wulf, and the dwarves showed obvious shock, and I decided none of them were likely suspects either.  Sten looked pissed off, and I wondered if he regretted his hasty decision to become a Warden and submit himself to a magical ritual given that it looked like no one had had to die to end the Blight in the end.  Loghain also looked angry, but I ascribed other reasons for his anger – _probably just pissed off he’ll have to go to Orlais after all_.  I didn’t think he would have agreed to the ritual to save his own life, much less the rest of us, without serious convincing – and Aedan, likely the only one possibly capable of it, obviously hadn’t even tried.

 Riordan looked weary, but also alarmed, and the look on Dougal’s face mirrored that almost exactly; it was clear they were both concerned that somehow the Blight hadn’t been ended, and the Archdemon was going to reform.  I pondered the idea, briefly; it was, I supposed, just possible that Avernus’ altered Joining potion was somehow ineffective, didn’t render quite the right sort of taint to effectively kill an Archdemon, and Zevran – and the rest of us who’d recently Joined – weren’t technically Grey Wardens.

 But then my gaze fell on Conrad.  The normally confidant redhead stood, looking around and avoiding eye contact, neither obviously shocked or worried, and his usually pale face was flushed red as he rubbed nervously at one wrist with the other hand.  My eyes narrowed further as I stared at him, noticing for the first time how his shoulders slumped as though he carried the weight of the world on them – or was really, inexplicably sad.  _Son of a…_

 I stood on shaky legs, and Alistair held out one arm, clearly expecting me to leap at him.  I reached out and squeezed his hand, quickly, before slipping around him to walk up to Conrad.  I stared at him for a moment, considering the unhappiness that was apparent.

 “You,” I began, and he winced.  “You did the ritual.  With Morrigan.”

 He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and then, finally, met my eyes.  “Yes.”

 I was stunned at the sheer despair on his face, and I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head on his shoulder.

 “Thank you.  You saved him.  Thank you.”  I babbled a few more thanks as he slowly, awkwardly, put his arms around me to pat my back.  I could feel him shudder, and I went up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear.  “Do you love her?”

 He didn’t answer out loud, but I could feel the tremulous bob that indicated he’d nodded.

 “You’ll see her again, I promise.  And your son will be fine.  I will help you find her, I swear.”

 He nodded again, and his arms tightened once before releasing me.  I stepped back and eased backwards into Alistair’s embrace to find Riordan, Dougal, and Loghain watching me with varying degrees of skepticism and concern.  I almost laughed – they were giving me the look they should be levelling at Conrad – but managed to refrain.  The other Grey Wardens, newer to the Order as they were, seemed to be missing the seriousness of what was happening, and for Conrad’s sake, I was relieved.

 I tilted my head, and Alistair and I stepped sideways slightly, the three worried Wardens following us and Conrad reluctantly accompanying them.  Riordan looked almost angry, and I sighed.  “Look, there was a ritual, okay?  One that meant the Warden who killed the Archdemon wouldn’t die.  Duncan knew about it and had decided against allowing it.  I thought he’d told you, told everyone...”  Their unimpressed expressions made it clear that wasn’t true.  “But obviously not.  Apparently Conrad didn’t ask permission.”  I noticed Conrad playing with a wooden ring on his finger and smiled softly.

 Their unconvinced expressions spurred Alistair to defend me.  “It’s true.  Aedan, Duncan, and I all knew.  Duncan forbade us from going through with it.  I assume either he thought no one else would do it without permission, or he spoke with Morrigan and believed she’d accepted his refusal on everyone’s behalf.”

 “And just what are the consequences of this ritual, young lady?”

 Dougal took his age way too seriously, I decided, and I surpressed a giggle.  “Nothing you need to worry about, old man.”  He looked startled, but even Riordan twitched a smile.  Loghain glared at me as though he’d be able to divine why they were asking _me_ by burning a hole through my forehead with his gaze alone.

 “No, seriously.  I trust Morrigan.  I don’t know what exactly she plans, but I know the Blight is over, the Archdemon is truly dead, and she intends nothing bad for Ferelden or Thedas as a whole.  Honestly, it will be okay.”  I purposely avoided mentioning a baby.  _I want Conrad to be the one to find her, not one of the others._

 Conrad agreed with me, confirming what I’d said, also not mentioning the child, I noticed.  Apparently satisfied, Riordan finally allowed us to return to the celebration with the others.  Someone had helped Zevran up, and while his arm remained over Aedan’s shoulder for support, he looked remarkably hale for a dead man.  I kissed my brother’s cheek, and squeezed Zevran gently with murmured thanks for keeping Aedan safe.  I exchanged hugs with everyone, more than slightly relieved that the little family I had come to care about were safe – with one exception, whose absence made my heart ache. 

 I finally got the opportunity to curl myself into Alistair’s arms – he threw off his gauntlets, lifted me up and kissed me aggressively, plundering my mouth and making me fervently wish we were somewhere more appropriate, and cleaner.  When he released me, I buried my face in his neck.  “I’m sorry.”

 “What?”

 “Duncan died saving me.  I’m sorry.”

 He pulled away from me slightly, and I looked away, reluctant to see the pain or censure I expected in his eyes.  He lifted my chin with one hand, forcing me to meet his gaze.  “Duncan was never coming back, Sierra.  Not after this.  He would have been devastated to survive this battle.  There is nothing to apologise for – not to me, or anyone else.  He would have been happy to die to save your life, and I’m nothing but grateful that not only did he succeed, he won’t have to go die in the Deep Roads alone.”

 “So…I did him a favour?”  I sniffled, caught between relief the battle was over, and remorse that Duncan hadn’t survived somehow against all odds. 

 Alistair chuckled.  “I suppose so, yes.  That’s how he’d see it, anyway.”  He kissed my forehead softly.  “I love you.  And it isn’t your fault he died.  Knowing you, you were off trying to save the world, or something, when he saved you.”

 “I…”  I blushed.  “In other news, I did learn how to control that crazy smite that kills mages, more or less.  The one I used at Ostagar.”

 “I’d like to see that!”

 “You find me a handful of mages you want dead, and I’d be happy to show you.”

 “Think you could teach me?”  He looked sort of…enthused.

 “Honestly, no.”  He frowned, and I hurried to explain.  “Nothing personal.  I just don’t think your magic resistance is high enough.  I’m pretty sure mine is barely high enough.  I was holding five emissaries’ mana at the time.  Pretty sure my brain was trying to drip out my nose, actually.  It was awful.”

 He touched my face gently.  “That explains the blood then.  We should have Wynne or Anders check you out, just in case.”

 I nodded.  “Once the injured are taken care of, I promise.”

 By this time, I saw a group of mages and a bunch of the Tranquil, supervised by Irving, approach Riordan.  After some discussion, a subdued Conrad, Sten, and Jowan were left with them as they began the laborious process of draining and preserving the Archdemon’s blood; once that was done, Sten had already started talking about how we could get the most scale and bone from the beast.  A Warden had to do most of the work, given the risk of becoming tainted during handling, and Sten looked positively enthusiastic about the prospect.

 The rest of us escorted a limping Zevran to the infirmary area, where Wynne was already bossing around a group of mages and a handful of others who were helping bandage, distribute potions and poultices, and generally aiding their efforts.  She did a brief once-over on Zevran, healed an ankle he’d apparently sprained in his sprint to the Archdemon, and declared him healthy.  She checked me over as well, clucking at the dried blood on my face, but found nothing of concern.  Anders’ mana was too depleted to aid much, and he’d apparently already taken almost a toxic dose of Lyrium while trying to save a soldier who’d lost an arm to an ogre, so he stayed with us as we all sought out Cailan and the rest of the command structure.

 We found the King near the infirmary, shouting orders and making arrangements to have camps set, guards patrolling to watch for any lingering darkspawn, the infirmary moved to cleaner, drier ground, and had already arranged with Irving to have the mages begin scouring the ground saturated with darkspawn blood with the hottest fire they could manage.  Sereda had some dwarves with some sort of medieval flamethrowers aiding them; I wasn’t sure it would work, given the sheer quantity of taint I could still feel around us, but figured it was better than doing nothing.

 We left Cailan there, after assurances were given on both sides that everyone was fine; Cailan hugged both Alistair and I, and my husband flushed, embarrassed but also pleased by the acknowledgement in front of the nobles gathered nearby.  All of the Wardens, and our one remaining non-Warden companion, Leliana, finally headed to the new camp, assembling in the tent that would eventually be Cailan’s.  Our gear had been brought with his tent, so we had all our packs available when we arrived.  We shed our armour and most of us collapsed in a rough circle on the ground, exhausted; despite how tired we were, though, I felt a bit wired and restless, and it seemed the rest of the group felt the same.

 We spent a while sharing stories from the battle; apparently Alistair’s group had taken down the first general, while Aedan’s group spent their time killing ogres as they searched the battlefield for the second.  I told them about the ambush from the north, the emissary hunting party, and the general who’d come after me, as well as Duncan’s heroic end. 

 The group was quiet after that, contemplating the brave, selfless man we’d known as a commander and a friend.  Alistair just held me, his sorrow muted by foreknowledge and his desire not to increase my guilt.  No matter how many reassurances I received, no matter that no one else blamed me, I knew I’d never stop feeling guilty for Duncan’s death.  It might not have made sense, given that his survival, in many ways, would have been a worse outcome, but I doubted that when I closed my eyes, I’d ever stop seeing his sightless gaze and the pool of blood spreading around us, as I held his lifeless body in my arms.

 Aedan, however, was more concerned about other details.  “They were really hunting you?”

 I nodded.  “I’m guessing they had several groups, or maybe the Archdemon could just pay attention to any group that started having unexplained losses?  But it was like they figured out what was going on, and so any time I stole mana or killed an emissary, the rest were just waiting to attack the space they assumed I must be standing in.”

 “Why in the void would the Archdemon care to hunt a particular noblewoman, out of every other soldier on the field?”  Loghain’s brows furrowed in confusion, and I sighed as those all around me burst out in defense of my skill and value as a target for the darkspawn. 

 Aedan halted it with a gesture.  “A story for another time.  For now, I’d suggest we rest.”

 We all agreed, and finally scattered to our own tents.  The battle had taken a full twenty-four hours, and I felt every one of those hours as a separate clump of grit in my eyes, which were struggling to stay open.  It was warm, with the spring sunshine pouring down on the camp, and we didn’t even unpack our bedrolls, not wanting to contaminate them, instead laying out some blankets and collapsing on top fully clothed.  Alistair kissed me sleepily, and then we both passed out.

 I woke some time later, after the most dreamless sleep I’d had since becoming a Grey Warden.  Alistair was curled up around me like a protective mabari, and I grinned to myself at the image.  I had no desire to get up – cleaning my armour could wait, and I didn’t want to see anyone else, really.  With the possible exception of my brother, but given the earlier events, I didn’t imagine anyone except Zev would be seeing him anytime soon.

 So I laid in a tiny space, surrounded by the man I loved, and tried to come to terms with everything that had happened.

The Archdemon was dead.

So was Duncan.

Zevran had survived.

Morrigan was pregnant, and in a relationship with Conrad, of all people.

I was married, a princess, and lived in Thedas.  I hadn’t been back on Earth in months, and had no intention of going back again, ever, if I could manage it.

 In a little over a year, my life had changed drastically, but almost all of it was for the better, and I spent a few minutes just being thankful for my life.  I snuggled up closer to Alistair, and my movement must have woken him; I felt his arm snake around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and a sleepy, confused kiss was pressed to the back of my head.

 “Eugh,” Alistair complained, voice hoarse with sleep. 

 “Yeah, I wouldn’t kiss me until we manage a bath, if I were you.”

 He pulled me, rolling me onto my back and, leaning over me, pressed a soft kiss to my lips, drawing it out and leaving me chasing after him for more as he pulled away.  “We need to have that bath soon, then.”  I giggled, and he rested his forehead against mine with a smile.  “You okay?”

 I nodded and smiled back.  “I will be.”

 We spent the early evening helping with organization – carrying the wounded, retrieving bodies for the pyres, chopping wood – whatever was needed.  The feeling of the taint around us was heavy, but I could sense no darkspawn, and the mages had already begun incinerating the darkspawn corpses left after the battle and scouring the ground with fire.  The Dalish had already withdrawn, promising to search both the Brecilian forest and some of the Korcari Wilds for pockets of darkspawn in their travels.  Apparently while I’d been sleeping, Cailan granted Lanaya permission to establish an elvish settlement near Ostagar in any untainted land they could find.  They had agreed to take in any of their city brethren who managed to make their way there, also.

 I was proud and impressed – perhaps, for once, Thedas would have a true leader determined to at least try to change the fates of the elves, because Maker knew, neither Maric, nor Anora, nor Loghain, nor any of the other nations had even made gestures towards that end.  The settlement also meant we had a reliable meeting place should the Grey Wardens need to speak to the elves, and I wondered if Aedan would consider establishing an outpost there as well.  The Dalish took their dead and wounded with them, and I knew their Keepers would be as capable as the army’s healers in keeping their wounded alive.

 The dwarves had also gathered – they hadn’t yet left, but they were planning to march as soon as the worst of their wounded had been stabilized.  They promised to scout the countryside to our southwest for darkspawn remnants as they travelled, as well.  Gorim had already bid Sereda goodbye; from what I’d seen, the Queen had a former casteless, now military caste man at her side, and I wondered whether he was her second, or her future husband.  She’d kept a professional distance from Gorim, and he’d returned the favour; it was sad, but it seemed they’d both come to terms with their separation. 

 I received another small shipment of sovereigns from Dallard, and a letter admitting he was able to charge far more for the bola launchers than he’d initially thought, and thus felt obligated to share the extra proceeds.  I was impressed with his honesty, and hoped I’d get the chance to thank him in person sometime.

 Our mages were put to work in the infirmary, Anders and Wynne working on the most severely wounded with a couple of other Circle mages, while Jowan and Solona spent their time healing more minor wounds and lending mana when the others needed help for something particularly difficult.  Sten and Conrad had assisted Irving and the handful of Tranquil in storing and preserving the Archdemon blood; they had placed it into individual glass bottles, which apparently Duncan had arranged to be brought, and packed into crates.  We had a dozen of the small wooden boxes full, each holding enough Archdemon blood for an entire nation for the next several hundred years.  Apparently Aedan intended to ship half of it to Weisshaupt – we expected a delegation from the First Warden in Denerim before long, given Duncan’s declaration of independence – and keep the other six in Ferelden.

 “Not that we won’t share it if they run out,” he’d assured Riordan, “but to use as leverage against backlash for splitting off from them.”

 Sten had begun the delicate process of stripping the scales and hide from the carcass.  I was surprised again by his skill – he’d done the same to the Living Andraste, but I couldn’t imagine why a warrior of his skill was also trained in such a craft.  He explained that, in Seheron, the children assigned to become warriors initially learned to fight while hunting – wild cats, bears, wolves, some large reptiles he didn’t have a word in the common tongue for – and that bringing home their skins was a sign of their prowess, allowing them to advance in the ranks.

 Riordan informed us that, as the hide would need to be tanned and cured immediately if we didn’t want it to rot, it was expected that the entirety of it would be used for armour and weapons for local Grey Wardens.  I briefly wondered if Paider could be convinced to create me another set of armour out of Archdemon leather.  _Probably not._

 Late that night we all gathered again from whatever tasks we’d been doing, settling around the fire at our camp.  Leliana was off somewhere, which left everyone present a Grey Warden, and Aedan and Riordan took the opportunity to discuss some things with the group of us.

 “We will tell everyone that Duncan perished while killing the Archdemon.”  Riordan levelled a glare at Conrad.  “We know that isn’t true, however the means by which Zevran survived, as happy as we are about the outcome, will have unfortunate consequences should the Order become aware of them.  As it is, I expect the First Warden to rage and shout about you leaving the Order, but nothing will come of it.  Should they learn that Zevran survived killing an Archdemon, I fully expect they would call on any alliances necessary to grant them the forces required to come and apprehend him for ‘testing’, whether they had his Majesty’s permission to enter the country or not.”

 Zevran smirked.  “Let them come.”

 Aedan smacked his arm.  “Let’s not start a war, shall we, love?  Besides, aren’t you supposed to be laying low?”  I was pleased to see the two rogues had not left each other’s sides since Zevran had slain the dragon, constantly touching and sharing glances that conveyed their relief and gratitude.  I smiled and snuggled into Alistair’s arms, feeling pleasantly warm despite the cool air of the spring night.

 “Not to mention what they may do to Conrad for agreeing to the ritual, and Morrigan, should they ever find her.  As I was saying, the official story will be that Duncan killed the Archdemon.  King Cailan has agreed to back this story; very few outside of ourselves know it to be untrue, and those we are aware of have already been contacted and agreed to maintain our secrecy to prevent a civil war within the Grey Wardens.”

 “They’re going to figure it out,” Anders complained.  “Someone will have noticed, someone we didn’t realise.  They’re not stupid, and rumours will get out.”

 “They may question what happened,” Dougal allowed, “however with several senior Wardens and King Cailan telling the same story, they will have no proof.  They cannot march against what will become a hostile nation based on rumour.”

 “They’re not stupid,” Riordan agreed, “but they are also confidant in their knowledge.  They know that a Grey Warden must die to end the Blight, and may not question it if they know Duncan was the only Warden to perish.”

 I was nervous about the plan, but given how much else we were going to be hiding from Weisshaupt – my Joining, my unusual knowledge of the Blight, my invisibility against the darkspawn – it was just one more thing to add to the list.

 “They’re going to want his body,” Dougal informed us.

 “Absolutely not.”  Alistair didn’t even hesitate.  “He was a Fereldan Warden, a hero, and he’s the one who separated us from Weisshaupt.”

 “He’d be entombed with the others who ended Blights, like Garahel.  Are you sure?”

 “We are.”  Aedan jumped in to back Alistair.  “While I don’t disagree that he was a hero worthy of that honour, we neither need them testing his body and somehow determining he didn’t actually kill the Archdemon, nor do we want them claiming him in some way.  We ended this Blight without them, and the victory should remain ours.  Sending him back is just opening the door to submitting to their authority again.”

 “He was born in Highever,” Alistair added.  “I think it would be nice if we built some sort of monument there, and sprinkled his ashes.”

 Riordan nodded.  “Fine.  I believe that is all-“

 “One more thing.”  Conrad finally spoke, though he wilted slightly under Dougal’s disapproving stare.  “I would like to formally request that I remain assigned to Ferelden, now that the Blight is over.”

 Everyone stopped and gaped at him except me; I knew he wanted to remain nearby in case I could actually come through with helping him see Morrigan again.

 “Are you certain?”  Dougal looked concerned.  “This split from Weisshaupt…you may not ever be able to return to Jader.”

 “I will miss a few friends there, it’s true, but I have no real reason to stay.  No family, no life outside the Wardens.  I think the split is the right thing to do; I’m more than a little sick of Weisshaupt’s politics.  I’m proud of what we accomplished here, and I’d like to help continue to rebuild.”

 Aedan examined his face critically for a few moments, then turned to Alistair with a raised eyebrow.  My husband shrugged and nodded.  “Can you accept less senior Wardens as your Commanders?  Aedan and I were left in charge by Duncan, and we need to know you’d accept our authority.” 

 “I have no trouble with that.  I’m not looking for advancement within the Order; I’m perfectly happy not having to manage reams of paperwork and dealing with reluctant recruits.”  He grinned.

 Aedan chuckled.  “Welcome to the Fereldan Grey Wardens, Conrad.”

 The meeting broke up after that; I still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Leliana, but assumed she was helping Wynne in the infirmary or something similar.  Pyres for those who’d perished were planned for the following day, most of the soldiers finally able to rest since the bodies had been collected and the wood chopped; in our camp, which was at the centre of the army’s larger encampment, it was finally completely quiet.

 I stepped into Alistair’s arms when we got into our tent, turning my face up for a kiss, before looking unhappily at the blankets spread on the ground, the bedrolls still off to the side.  “This sucks.”

 “I like our tent,” he objected.

 “Not that.  I want to be clean.  I want to be able to use our bedrolls and not worry about getting them tainted or covered in blood.  I want to be able to touch you!”

 “I have something to show you.”  He grinned, leaning down to pick up a bag I’d never seen before, then dragged me out of our tent and across the camp to the command tent.  Fumbling about inside, he thumbed on a glow lamp Cailan had borrowed from the Circle, and ushered me inside.

 “What’s all this about?”  I stopped, confused.  In the centre of the pavilion was a camp stool, surrounded on three sides by blankets hung from the crossbeams of the large structure.

 “A shower.”  Alistair looked immensely pleased with himself.  “With the blankets, nothing else will get wet, and no one will be able to see from outside.  As long as we’re quick, the water will soak into the ground and no one will even know we were here by morning.  Though if we’re kind, we might want to lend it to everyone else – I’m sure they feel the same.”  He wiggled the showerhead at me before placing it on the little stool.

 “You made me a shower?  When did you even have time to do that?”

 “I’m good at sneaking out of chores.  Raised by the Chantry, remember?  I snuck away from the clean-up when no one was looking.”

 I laughed at his impish grin and pressed up against him with a smile.  “Remind me to reward your bad behaviour when we’re done here.”

 His eyes darkened as he leaned down to kiss me, but I slipped away, pulling the tunic I’d been wearing since we’d shed our armour earlier over my head.  “Last one clean loses.”

 I quickly shucked the rest of my clothes and bolted for the little makeshift shower stall as Alistair sputtered and began peeling himself out of his clothes.  “No fair!” he whined, and I laughed as I began the first wash of several I planned for my thoroughly filthy hair.

 He joined me before long, and we spent half an hour splashing and washing, giggling like maniacs as we finally got clean.  Even before fighting the Archdemon, it had been difficult with armies around us, and while we’d washed up as best we could, our sex lives had suffered drastically from my need to wash before getting intimate.  Not that Alistair was complaining – I was sure he didn’t want to touch me, either, when I was covered in equal parts mud, sweat, and darkspawn blood.

 He had me sit on the little stool and helped me wash my hair for the third time before carefully combing some conditioner through my unruly curls with his fingers, and then I let him sit and returned the favour.  He was so gorgeous, sitting at my feet, head back, eyes closed in contentment, water streaking down his incredible body, that I just couldn’t wait anymore.  I rinsed the soap out of his hair, then turned off the water and sat down to straddle his lap, my breasts pressing up against his chest, and kissed him passionately.

 It took only a moment of shock before his arms were around me, holding my slippery wet body to his, plundering my mouth with demanding kisses, and I could feel the evidence of his sudden arousal between my thighs.  I adjusted slightly until I could feel him at my entrance, hard and hot, and I slowly slid down his length with a moan.

 His hands went to my hips and he lifted me back up, only to drop me back down as he thrust his hips, burying himself inside me with a groan.  “I love you, Sierra.  Oh, Maker, this feels so good.”

 I dragged my lips down his neck, scratching my chin against his stubble as I sucked on his tender skin.  He gasped, as I nipped at his pulse point, and drove himself into me again, and then I felt his finger on my pearl, gentle but insistent.  I was already close, my relief, exhaustion, love and arousal all mixing into a heady combination, and I cried out; he pulled my face forward until my mouth pressed against his shoulder with a hissed warning, and I took the hint and bit him, stifling any further noise.

 It took maybe three more thrusts until I was shuddering in completion, trying not to bite hard enough to draw blood as pleasure sizzled down every nerve ending, and Alistair followed me over the precipice a moment later as my muscles massaged his length inside me.  His fingers dug into my hips as he thrust erratically, groaning softly in my ear.

 I felt him soften and slip out of me as I sat collapsed against his chest, catching my breath.  When I could breathe normally again, I pressed a soft kiss to the bite mark I’d left on his shoulder, and his breath hitched.

 “I’m sorry.”

 He chuckled.  “You need to stop apologising for things that aren’t your fault.”  He rubbed the sore spot ruefully.  “Though I’m going to milk this for all it’s worth, just so you know.”

 I laughed and swatted him, then groaned as I climbed to my feet, my hips sore.  “In private, I should hope.”

 “Well, yeah – it would be a shame to survive the battle with the Archdemon only to be killed by your brother for discussing our sex life where he could overhear.”

 I raised one eyebrow in mock irritation.  “Never mind that - it would be a shame not to have a sex life to discuss, if your wife was displeased by your public bragging.”

 He paled.  “You wouldn’t.”

 “I might.”

 His frown morphed into a mischievous grin.  “Then I guess I had better show you why you don’t want to do that.”

 I threw a linen dress over my head without smalls, and sauntered past him as I collected my things.  “Then you’d better hurry, unless you want me to start without you.”

 I shrieked in laughter as he made a grab for me, and then darted, laughing, out of the tent, leaving him to get dressed and follow; instead of running back to our own tent, however, I ran smack-dab into my brother.  He looked at me, confused; his expression cleared up to a mixture of amusement and disgust as I tossed him the shower head.

 “Your turn!”

 


	113. Mourning

Chapter One Hundred Thirteen: Mourning

 After a night spent reassuring ourselves with sight, taste, and touch that we were both alive and unharmed, I rose the next morning, tired but feeling better than I’d felt in months.  _Knowing that battle was hanging over our heads was a heavier weight than I’d thought._  Alistair was still asleep, his golden hair slightly scruffy and spread about him like a short, spiky lion’s mane, and after a few minutes watching him sleep, I was restless.  I eased out of his arms, threw on a pair of smalls and a linen dress, and slipped out of the tent in the early morning light.

 My brother and his love were sitting around the fire, and I snuggled up between them without a word, leeching heat and enjoying the fact of their continued existence.  Aedan put his arm around me, and Zevran squeezed my hand as I sighed in contentment.

 Both men were clean, and I assumed they’d made good use of my shower head.  I hoped that they’d passed it on, after, and that I’d get it back eventually, but for now, I couldn’t even bring myself to care.  We sat that way as Aedan made the morning porridge, serving all of us Warden-sized bowls, and we ate together companionably.  Leliana, clean but looking somewhat rumpled, came into the camp, blushing slightly as she saw the three of us looking at her.  She hurried into her tent, as I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

 “Where do you suppose she slept last night?” I asked.

 Zevran smirked.  “Unfortunate you don’t know any ridiculously awesome, talented rogues who could tell you that information.”

 I looked at him in surprise.  “You know?”  A slight widening of his smug smile was his only response.  “Who?”  He continued to grin without answering.  “Come on, share, mio fratello.  No fair keeping gossip this good to yourself!”

 He didn’t answer.  Aedan was laughing at my irritation, and I knew I had even less chance of getting him to tell me if he thought it was funnier to keep it from me.

 “Don’t make me go wake Alistair.  I’ll make him hold you down while I tickle you.”

 Zevran paled slightly, even as he objected, “But I am not ticklish, cara.  It won’t work.”

 I examined his face, carefully neutral expression poorly hiding his concern.  “Uh huh, sure you’re not.”  I crooked my fingers in his direction, threatening his ribs, and he shifted uncomfortably.

 “You’re wasting your time.  A Crow does not crack under torture.  A Crow-“

 I darted my hand in, finding his vulnerable waist through the thin cloth of his tunic, and squeezed; he squealed in a less-than-manly fashion, and Aedan and I cracked up completely.

 “Fine, fine.  I shall give you a hint and see if you can guess.  Fereldan, noble, attractive in a broody sort of way.” 

 I considered, but then shook my head, gesturing for him to tell me more.

 “Dark hair.  Strong arms.”

 I thought about it for a few minutes, and realised I needed one other piece of information.  “Male or female?”  _Please don’t let it be Cauthrien…please don’t let it be Cauthrien…_

 “Male.”

 It couldn’t have been, but… “Nate?” I whispered.

 “Got it on the first guess, sis.”  Aedan chuckled.  “She’s spent a lot of time with our tormented, noble archer.”

 Thinking about it, I realised in game, the two never would have met.  I had no way of knowing if they’d hit it off.  “Really?  How didn’t I know this?”

 “Well, she wasn’t exactly advertising it, but you’ve also been a bit…distracted, I suppose, with your own romantic issues.”  Aedan stuck his tongue out at me.

 “I’m not having romantic issues, for possibly the first time since I’ve been in Thedas.”

 “What your dearest brother means to say, mia sorella, is that you’ve perhaps been more focused on your rather…enthusiastic response to wedded bliss.”

 “Are you saying I’ve been having too much sex to notice?”

 Aedan put his hands over his ears and started singing to himself to prevent hearing me talk about sex, and I elbowed him in the side as I rolled my eyes.

 Zevran just laughed.  “Well, cara mia, you know now you’ve missed out on one budding relationship, but have you noticed who else hasn’t been alone in his tent lately?”

 “Conrad, obviously.”

 “Well, yes, but no one knew about that, bella donna, even me.  No, I mean the other Orlesian Warden.”

 “Riordan?”  I was startled; in game he’d seemed so…focused.  Single-minded, almost.

 “No, no.  The more distinguished looking gentleman with the two-handed hammer.”

 “Dougal?”  I was stunned.  “Dougal’s got a girl – wait, is it a girl? – in his tent?”

 “It’s a girl, alright.”  Aedan’s scowl transformed to a smirk.

 “I object - I’d have to call her a woman, yes?  No mere girl has a magical bosom like hers.”  Zevran outlined a curvy female shape with his hands, and Aedan choked.

 I stared at him, open-mouthed in shock.  “Wynne?”  I was shouting, until Aedan gestured to keep quiet.  “Wynne and Dougal?” I whispered.  “But that’s so…”

 “Perfect?” Aedan suggested.  “At least, I think it is.  She said it isn’t serious, just two people who’ve been through a lot giving the other companionship.  He’s still going back to Orlais when we’re done with the clean-up.”

 “So she’s having a…fling?  I’m sorry, I think you broke my brain.”

 “Cara,” Zevran chided.  “You should not be so close-minded.  They are both adults, yes?  And they may have grey hair, but that does not mean they can’t enjoy a little physical pleasure to keep the loneliness at bay.  I’d think you would be pleased they found any happiness.”

 The more I thought about it, the less weird it seemed, somehow.  Zevran was right.  “I am.  I’m happy for them, if they’re happy with it.  I was just shocked, is all.  In the game…well, Wynne wasn’t receptive to any of that sort of thing.  I’m just surprised.”  _I wonder if Greagoir knows?_

 “You’ve changed lots of things, sister.”  Aedan kissed my hair as he squeezed me slightly.  “All of them for the better.”

 I winced as an image flashed through my mind: Duncan, blood pooling around him as Cailan wrenched an axe out of his side.  Guessing why I flinched, Aedan hugged me even closer. 

 “He had a much better end than at Ostagar.  I know he wouldn’t regret it – you have to stop blaming yourself.”

 “I know, I just…”

 “Just nothing.”  I hadn’t noticed my husband come out of our tent while we’d talked.

 Aedan vacated his spot in favour of sitting by Zev, and Alistair lifted me effortlessly onto his lap as he sat down.  “I know no one else will be able to convince you, but personally, I’m quite sure Duncan is at the Maker’s side right now, pleased with how everything worked out, smiling down on all of us.” 

 Riordan’s voice joined the conversation from somewhere behind me.  “I agree.”  He stepped around Alistair and settled across from us.  “Mourn him, grieve, miss him like I will, but don’t take the heroism out of how he died by taking credit for his choices.”

 I flushed, embarrassed.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean…”

 Alistair pulled me to him, and I turned my head and let a tear fall that I’d been holding in since the subject had changed.  I felt ridiculous, but saw only honest concern when I glanced up at everyone watching me. 

 Riordan smiled.  “No more apologies.”

 I nodded, overcome by the support of everyone around me.  I briefly wondered where I’d have been had I never come to Thedas, and the image of myself sitting alone in front of a computer screen rolled past.  I put it out of my mind gladly.  _No time for that.  I am_ not _going back._

 Just then, the others started filtering out of their tents, and we all got busy serving breakfast to those who hadn’t eaten yet.  Leliana avoided eye contact, and somehow Wynne managed to emerge from Dougal’s tent without drawing a comment.  _Or everyone but me already knew, and no comment is needed…_ We knew a summons would be forthcoming for the pyres, and began getting ready as soon as everyone had eaten. 

 I wanted to talk to Leli – and Wynne, for that matter – but in the bustle, there was no opportunity.  I resolved to find the both of them after the service.  Instead, I quickly dressed in the set of armour not currently soaked in darkspawn blood before rejoining the group.  Everyone, it seemed, had had a chance to get cleaned up; even Oghren had at least rinsed off the worst of the gore.  It seemed his good hygiene had become a bit more voluntary – requiring a lot less drunken force-bathing – since visiting Felsi, and I smiled.  Everyone’s armour had been cleaned and polished courtesy of some of Cailan’s servants, except those of us who wore leather; we wore our spare sets.  At least for Leli and me, someone had come to take our dirty sets and see if they could be salvaged. We all wore our tabards, Wardens and companions alike, and it made me sad thinking of when Duncan had presented them to us back in Orzammar.

 Bel returned my showerhead to me, and I tucked it into my bag before we left.

 Once everyone was ready, we went together to Cailan’s command tent, where he was giving out instructions to the various battalion captains.  We waited until he was done, and he turned to us finally, clasping forearms with most of our group in the strange handshake apparently common in Thedas, kissed hands of the few women ostentatiously, and then he accompanied us to where the pyres had been laid. 

 There were actually several pyres, and I didn’t even want to count them; each had dozens of bodies, covered in blankets, sheets, cloaks, or whatever other shroud could be scrounged up to serve.  There was simply no way to have individual pyres for that number of people, and the bodies were too badly tainted to allow the families to claim them for private pyres.  I felt sorry for the families left behind without so much as a chance to say goodbye.

 There was a separate pyre for the handful of nobles who’d perished when the darkspawn ambushed our camp.  I didn’t know any of them, fortunately, but that didn’t make it any less tragic.

 There was one pyre with only a single body – Duncan’s.  As befitted the hero who (supposedly) ended the Blight, he was laid out, his armour repaired, his body cleaned, his beard and hair trimmed, looking much as he had in life.  His weapons were at his sides, his arms crossed over his chest in a sick parody of his usual greeting bow. 

 I wanted to look away; I couldn’t separate the mental image of him dead in my arms from his life-like corpse waiting for a pyre to be lit.  But I wouldn’t disrespect him by avoiding the reality of his death.  I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and forced myself to stand straight and hold still.  Alistair squeezed my hand on one side, Cailan on the other, and I tried to remind myself that it wasn’t my fault, and that I wasn’t alone to deal with my grief.

 There were hundreds assembled for the service, all the nobility spread out around our group, the common soldiers, dwarves, mages, and templars behind them; a small dais had been erected so everyone would be able to see.  Irving had offered the services of a small group of mages who could amplify what was said, and to the Grand Cleric’s dismay, Cailan had graciously accepted before she’d had any chance to decline; as a result, everyone would be able to hear the service as well.

 The Revered Mother giving the service, old and wizened even for her senior position, slowly climbed the dais, and the murmuring and shifting around me died off as everyone gave her their attention.  I was surprised it wasn’t the Grand Cleric, but as she began to speak in a strong, clear voice, I decided I was glad; this was much preferable to listening to the whiny, superior tone of that old hag.

 She began with several verses from the Chant of Light, listing off their sources with each verse; a few of them I recognised from their game codex, but some I couldn’t recall.  Most of what she said washed over me without even registering, as I let my eyes travel over the bodies of so many who’d died to keep Ferelden safe.  She spoke of the horrors of the Blight, through the dogma of the Canticle of Threnodies, and I couldn’t listen.

 A few verses, however, stood out, and I felt my grief pour out through my tears as I tried to remain stoic.

Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls.  
From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.  
Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.  
In my arms lies Eternity.

_-Andraste 14:11_

The Light shall lead her safely  
Through the paths of this world, and into the next.  
For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.  
As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,  
She should see fire and go towards Light.  
The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,  
And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker  
Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.

_-Transfigurations 10:1_

My Maker, know my heart   
Take from me a life of sorrow   
Lift me from a world of pain   
Judge me worthy of Your endless pride   
  
My Creator, judge me whole:   
Find me well within Your grace   
Touch me with fire that I be cleansed   
Tell me I have sung to Your approval   
  
O Maker, hear my cry:   
Seat me by Your side in death   
Make me one within Your glory   
And let the world once more see Your favor   
  
For You are the fire at the heart of the world   
And comfort is only Yours to give.

_-Transfigurations 12:3-12:6_

Draw your last breath, my friends,  
Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.  
Rest at the Maker's right hand,  
And be Forgiven.

_-Trials 1:16_

I listened as she spoke, and wished I knew if she was right.  Was it possible?  Was there a Maker, and was he merciful, like she said?  Supposedly he’d turned his back on the world, but somehow, were Duncan and the hundreds of others sitting at the Maker’s side, drinking heavenly wine, never again to know suffering?  I wished I could believe, wished it with all my heart, and decided that my wish would have to serve in place of the faith I’d never known, hadn’t been raised to understand.  I hoped my prayers, such as they were, would reach Duncan, my parents, and the Maker himself, and that those I loved, those I owed for my life, were out of the reach of the grief I felt.

 Half-way through I gave up, turning to Alistair and pressing myself against his unforgiving dragonbone armour as I cried; he held me, several of his own tears joining mine cascading down to mix into the mud at our feet.

 Finally she finished, and sniffling, I pulled myself together and turned to watch as Cailan deliberately climbed the steps, bowing low to the Revered Mother as she stepped aside.  He looked out at the crowd for several silent moments, and I wondered if his nerves had gotten to him, or if he was frozen up there, unable to speak.

 Finally he cleared his throat.  “Fereldans,” he started, “dwarves of Orzammar, elves of the Dales: we are gathered here today not to grieve the loss of so many dedicated, incredible fighters, though we do, indeed grieve; not to mourn our losses and lick our wounds, though we do those things as well.  No, we are here not in sorrow, but in celebration.  Today we celebrate the lives of every man and woman here who stood up and said ‘I will not go quietly,’ and instead chose to fight.  We celebrate the strength, the determination, the will and the prowess that make us who we are: fighters.  Warriors.  Allies.

 “Today, we celebrate that mages, templars, elves, dwarves, and humans, for the first time in hundreds of years, if ever, learned to work together, to build trust, to accept each other’s strengths and protect weaknesses.  We celebrate the first alliances that may actually last the test of time and stand us in good stead when next the world needs them. 

 “We celebrate our differences, and our ability to overcome them in the face of a common cause.  We celebrate breaking the horde, stopping the Blight, and ending a dire threat to all of Thedas, without outside intervention. 

 “We celebrate the lives of those we lost – those brave souls who are now resting at the Maker’s side – and their families, who will need our help to survive those losses and face the future.

 “We celebrate the Grey Wardens, who dedicate their lives, and take these same risks day in and day out, to protect Thedas from evil.  We celebrate the Warden-Commander, Duncan, my friend and mentor, who gave his life to ensure that others may live.  We celebrate their duty, and ours, so that none might be forgotten.

 “Today, though we do so through tear-filled eyes and heavy hearts, we celebrate victory.  And today we show the world that we will not, we will never be broken; not by darkspawn, not by politics and civil war, not by foreign despots or our own, dangerous doubts.  Today, Ferelden extends the hand of friendship to the Dalish and to Orzammar, and we ask them to stand beside us as we celebrate the future they fought with us to procure.

 “For Victory.  For Ferelden!”

 The roar of the crowd behind us, repeating Cailan’s last words, was ear-splitting, the enthusiasm hard to shake.  His speech was intensely emotional, for me and for the rest of us who’d fought so hard, for so long; caught between laughing and crying, I was passed around from person to person and embraced by equally overcome friends.  Leliana sniffled and offered me a handkerchief, which I took gratefully.  I even ended up hugging Oghren, who pinched my ass and earned himself a head slap from an irritated yet bemused Aedan. 

 When Cailan returned to stand with us, I launched myself at him and pulled him into a hug; I could feel him shaking slightly, whether due to nerves, repressed grief, or sheer relief I couldn’t have guessed.

 He turned back and gestured; several soldiers, who stood at the ready with torches lit, slowly approached the pyres and touched the flames to the dry wood.  The crowd watched silently as the flames whooshed and caught, rising high into the afternoon sky.

 The last two pyres, the nobles’ and Duncan’s, had yet to be lit.  Cailan stepped forward and accepted a torch from a nearby soldier; he gestured to Alistair to do the same.  Alistair put his hand on Aedan’s shoulder, and the two stepped forward together to accept a second one.  All set, Cailan bowed and carefully lit the pyre holding the handful of nobles, while the new Warden-Commanders did the same for Duncan’s.  Tears streamed down all three faces, mirroring my own sadness as I bid a last farewell to the man who, had I the choice, I’d have chosen as a father.

 The pyres would burn for hours, I knew, in order to reduce the bodies to ash; some of the mages had been volunteered to use their magic to augment the pyre’s flames if necessary, since it had been difficult to find enough dry wood.  We all watched for a while, then slowly, the crowd began to disburse.  I could hear captains calling out orders to march, and the main body of the army returned to their tasks, breaking camp, patrolling the perimeter, or whatever other activities a standing army did when the battle was over.

 I turned to Cailan.  “Good speech, your Majesty.”  I grinned as he huffed at me.  “No, seriously.  That was amazing.  I’m impressed that you’re so eloquent.”  My teasing grin died, and I reached out and squeezed his hand.  “Duncan would have been proud.”

 I’d have said more, but we were interrupted by a breathless scout bursting through a last clump of soldiers and nearly bowling over Riordan in his rush to reach Cailan.

 “Your Majesty!  My Lord!” he called to Cailan and, apparently, Aedan.

 “It’s been a long day,” Cailan complained tiredly.  “It’s not exactly good timing, Scout…er…”

 “Ruald, your Majesty.”  He bowed, belatedly, face flushed in embarrassment.  “I’m sorry, but this can’t wait.  There’s a group of soldiers at the south perimeter, your Majesty.”

 “I imagine there are several, Ruald.  This is important because…?”

 “They aren’t ours!  At least, they weren’t fighting in the battle.  They’ve just come from the Wilds, they said.  They say…they say they’re from Highever.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to run a contest: anyone who reviews this chapter can leave me a prompt they'd like to see me write - as long as they are related to this fic - and I will choose a few to do, time permitting. It could be pre-Blight, a different POV on story events, 'behind the scenes' events from the story...whatever you think of. Let me know!


	114. Dis-Unity

Chapter One Hundred Fourteen: Dis-Unity

 

“There’s a group of soldiers at the south perimeter, your Majesty,” the scout reported.  “They aren’t ours!  At least, they weren’t fighting in the battle.  They’ve just come from the Wilds, they said.  They say…they say they’re from Highever.”

 With that announcement, the change that came over Aedan was patently obvious.  He stiffened like he’d been shot, and then spun to make eye contact with me, a huge grin splitting his face.  _I don’t think he believed me that Fergus survived; at least, not completely.  He didn’t want to get his hopes up._   Cailan had been questioning the scout further while Aedan had already begun celebrating, but we both turned to hear the last of the conversation.

 “…Cousland with them?” I heard Cailan asking.

 “I don’t know, your Majesty.  They didn’t say, but they had a couple of heavily wounded men.  They all looked a bit worse for wear, to be honest.  The healers have already been sent for.” 

 Aedan glanced my way with trepidation, and I shrugged.  _I thought he was better by the time he reached civilization, though the game didn’t mention any of his men._

 “Thank you, Ruald.  You may return to your duties.”

 Cailan spoke to a few of the messengers and others nearby, leaving instructions, while Aedan dismissed the Grey Wardens gathered behind us; when that was all done, Alistair, Zev and I trailed in Aedan’s wake as he and Cailan led the way hurriedly through the massive army camp.  I jogged ahead, catching Aedan’s arm to slow him down slightly.

 “Aedan…” I began hesitantly, not knowing exactly why I was suddenly so nervous.  “It might not be him.  I don’t want you to get your hopes up.  There may have been others from Highever that survived.”

 “I know.”  He winced.  “But then again, it might be him.  Would he still be injured?”

 “Not according to the game.  But we’ve seen the game isn’t always perfect.”

 “Still, if it is him?  Oh, Maker, I hope it is.  I won’t say I’m looking forward to telling him about Howe, but…Sierra, we won’t be alone anymore.  We still have a family.”

 It made my stomach flutter to think about that.  “Even if it is him...Aedan, it might not be the best time to tell him about me.  He’s going to have enough to deal with without an unknown sister being dumped on him, don’t you think?  Maybe we should wait to tell him.”

 “He’s your brother too,” Aedan argued.  “I won’t ask you to pretend not to be family in front of him.  He’ll be happy to meet you.  I know he will.  If anything, it might help deal with what we’ve lost, to see something we have found.”

 “Aedan…”

 “Perhaps we should wait and see if he’s even there before you two start arguing about who tells him what?”  Cailan was chuckling lightly at our expense.

 I scowled at him.  “Careful, your Majesty, or we’ll make you tell him.”  He paled, and I laughed.

 We finally reached the south perimeter of the camp, and I could see a small group of soldiers, some seated, some lying down; Wynne was there, with a Circle mage I didn’t recognise.  The elder mage knelt beside someone, pouring healing magic into him, while the other one concentrated on closing up what looked to be a minor head wound on someone else.

 I hung back, nervous, as Aedan bolted towards the group, clearly having recognised someone.  Alistair wrapped one arm around my waist as we watched Aedan drop to one knee beside a large blond man.  They spoke briefly, then Aedan half-smiled and clapped the man on the shoulder, oblivious to the poor thing’s wince.  My brother stood and stepped around another soldier before finally sinking down beside the man Wynne was working on with a cry.

 Anxiously, I shuffled forward to see Fergus, face streaked with mud and blood, eyes closed, a large gash through the shoulder of the ragged armour he wore, the skin torn and bleeding freely.  Aedan leaned over, tucking a strand of matted dark hair off his forehead.  Fergus had seen better days; he had a thick, unkempt beard, and his hair was longer than Cailan’s; he had a scar running from one ear, across his cheek to his mouth, making his lip pucker strangely.  He was filthy and wearing what must have been scavenged armour, but he was unmistakable despite that.  He looked a great deal older than he had in game, and I wondered what he had been through since Ostagar.

 As Wynne worked, the gash in his shoulder stopped bleeding, then slowly closed; she rose carefully, obviously drained, and I hurried to her side to offer my support as she got her balance back.  None of the small group of soldiers looked able to answer questions, and Aedan was clearly so torn between relief that Fergus was alive and fear – that he might still die, that he’d react poorly to the news out of Highever – that he was in no shape to make the necessary arrangements.  Cailan came back to my side from where he’d been talking to the guards who’d initially spoken to the ragtag group.

 “Apparently they were scouting in the Wilds when they were ambushed, just before Ostagar.  These were all that survived, and the Chasind rescued them.  Several were injured, including Fergus, who apparently had some sort of wound in his back.  It’s taken all these months for him to be well enough to travel, but then as they approached here, they encountered a group of darkspawn fleeing the battle and had to fight.  He was injured again.”  Clearly the guards had had some time to figure out the story before we’d arrived.

 “He’ll live,” Wynne told us.  “He was the most badly injured of the lot.  He’ll need some more time to heal, and I think Anders should look at the wound on his back – it isn’t totally healed yet, or it ripped open again, perhaps – but he’ll recover.  After that healing, he probably won’t wake for another day or so, I suspect.”

 Cailan stepped closer, pitching his voice low for only Alistair, Zev, Wynne, and I to hear.  “Apparently he knows.”  I gave him a puzzled frown.  “About Highever,” he clarified.  “The Chasind had heard the news from refugees heading to Gwaren.  He took it…poorly.”

 Zev and I traded looks; he turned and went to sit by Aedan, one hand on my brother’s back, silently offering support.

 “It’s probably better that Aedan didn’t have to tell him,” Alistair mused. 

 I nodded, slightly relieved both that I’d have another day to face Fergus as his long-lost sister, and that I wouldn’t have to watch Aedan break his heart.

 Cailan stepped away again and made arrangements for a camp near the Grey Wardens to be set up for the handful of Highever men, and then two soldiers with a stretcher carefully carried Fergus up to Cailan’s tent, the rest of us following in their wake.  Aedan clung to my hand, seemingly not able to talk about his feelings, but his relief and apprehension were communicated clearly through his clammy skin clutching mine.  He refused to leave Fergus’ side once the new Teyrn was settled in Cailan’s tent, and Zevran collected a couple of camp chairs and an extra cot so Aedan could sleep right beside his – our – brother.

 I spent a restless night wondering when Fergus would wake; Alistair making love to me distracted me for a while, but as he slipped into sleep, I laid awake, worrying.  The next day, several of the men had recovered enough to describe their experiences in more detail.  It sounded like it was a miracle Fergus had survived; Anders agreed after examining his back, and he, Wynne, and several others performed a combined heal like they’d done for my knee back at Redcliffe, apparently managing to break up some unfortunate scar tissue and reduce the impact it would have on his movement. 

 When he finally woke, I was in a conversation with Nathaniel, who’d stopped in to visit Leliana but was too embarrassed – or too polite – not to stop and say hello to me, too; we were discussing our future move to Amaranthine.  Zevran came, pulling me aside and freeing Nathaniel to seek out Leliana.

 “He’s awake.”  Zevran frowned.  “Aedan would like to see you.  He has not yet told the Teyrn about you, yes?  It has been an...emotional reunion.”

 I nodded mutely and reluctantly turned to head to Cailan’s tent.  I truly didn’t know what to expect; Fergus didn’t know me.  On the other hand, if Aedan was anything to go by, maybe he’d surprise me and welcome me with open arms.  Aedan certainly seemed to think that would happen.  I took a deep breath and ducked inside the tent.

 My timing was impeccable – impeccably bad, of course.  The two must just have talked about the night Howe had attacked, because Fergus was sobbing, and Aedan was holding him with a look of such abject guilt in his eyes it caused me physical pain.  I couldn’t help it – I shot Aedan a sympathetic look, and then stepped back outside.  I stood beside the tent flap, heart pounding, slightly short of breath, feeling nervous and ashamed all at once.

  _Who am I to go in there and be their sister?  They lost everything.  A bloodline doesn’t let me share their grief.  I’m such a fraud._

 I sank down onto the ground, arms wrapped around my knees, head down, shaking a little.  I couldn’t decide if I was more worried about being rejected, or being accepted.  I honestly hadn’t spent much time considering what it would be like with Fergus in our lives; now it occurred to me I’d been in denial, avoiding thinking about it.

 I sat there for a while, torn between going back in, or walking away altogether, when I heard the two men start talking.  I should have left – I knew that eavesdropping wasn’t going to get me anywhere good – but I felt paralysed, by guilt and fear, so I just sat there and listened.

 Aedan was describing the night Highever fell; his voice broke as he described finding Oren and Oriana, defending Eleanor, saying goodbye to Rory, and then finding Bryce in the larder.  Duncan had had to carry him out, not because he didn’t want to be a Grey Warden, but because he was so set on staying with his parents and defending them to his death.  Aedan had opened up to me, as we’d travelled together over the past year, but I realised it must have hurt, not having someone who knew those people he’d left behind to grieve with.  Aedan was begging forgiveness, and Fergus was sobbing again, choking out words of understanding, not censure, to my relief.  Things went quiet again, as the two cried together, and I assumed, held each other while they mourned.

 When they started talking again, Aedan began describing our adventures since that night, between being recruited, the Tower of Ishal, meeting us in Lothering, travelling to Redcliffe, then the Circle, Haven, the Brecilian Forest, Denerim, and finally Orzammar.  He didn’t go into great detail about any point in the tale, just giving a rough overview of the challenges we faced at each place.  He mentioned me several times, not explaining my background, to my surprise; he gave hints that there was something mysterious about me – describing how I’d warned them about Branka, for example – but never explained how I’d known.  I could almost feel Fergus’ confusion mounting as the tale went on. 

 He was surprised at learning Cailan had a half-brother, and I noticed Aedan spent more time describing my wedding than he did describing Orzammar.

 Finally they talked about killing Howe; Fergus was initially skeptical about Nathaniel’s innocence, immediately spewing vitriol about the Howes, but when he heard about his injuries – I hadn’t been aware that Anders had healed several horrific burns, bruises, and badly set fractures – he softened and accepted that Nate had been a victim of his father every bit as much as the Couslands had.  He’d been friends with Nathaniel Howe for years before the archer’s exile; faced with overwhelming evidence, he couldn’t deny the obvious lack of complicity in his father’s actions.

 They talked about the Landsmeet, then the army training in the field before the final battle.  Aedan had avoided talking much about Zevran, but his resolve broke when he explained Zevran taking the killing blow, and I was sure that, unless Fergus was an idiot, he must have known how Aedan felt about the elf; despite that, they didn’t discuss it.  _I imagine they’ve spent their entire lives not talking about Aedan’s sexual preference and what it would mean for a nobleman not to wish to marry._

 Instead, Fergus asked the question I’d expected from him earlier.

 “You’ve mentioned this…Sierra?...multiple times, but Aedan…who is she?  Is she a mage?  You talk about her like she knows the future.”

 “I’m glad you asked.”  I could picture Aedan’s smug grin.  _Ass._   “She isn’t a mage, no.  But she does, in a limited way, know things about the future.”

 The explanation of where I came from was as unbelievable to Fergus as it had been to everyone else; he tried to poke holes in the story, speculating that I was a spy, or somehow in league with the darkspawn…like everyone else, he failed to come up with any explanation that made sense given the breadth of my apparent knowledge.  No one could possibly be in league with Loghain, Howe, the darkspawn, the dwarves, Uldred, the Dalish, werewolves, and all of the thugs in Denerim at the same time.  In the end, it sounded like he was left questioning Aedan’s sanity. 

 Which I couldn’t blame him for, really, but apparently Aedan didn’t pick up on that, because instead of getting Cailan, or anyone, really, to confirm his story, he launched into the explanation that I’d been dreading.

 “’Gus…did you know I was a twin?”

 There was shocked silence for a moment, before Fergus replied, “How did you find out about that, pup?”

 “I knew it!  I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.  Mother and Father I could understand, but why didn’t you ever say anything?”  There was no response, and my mind supplied an image of Fergus shrugging helplessly in the face of Aedan’s enthusiasm.  “Anyway.  Sierra…Fergus, Sierra is our sister.  My twin.  We don’t know how or why, exactly, but the reason she didn’t wake up when she was born was because somehow her mind was sent over there.”

 “Aedan…”  I could practically hear the disbelief in Fergus’ voice.  Apparently Aedan did too.

 “Hear me out!  Listen, how else would she have come back?  How could she know so much?  You might be the only person alive who knew we even had a sister.  How could she find out, if she was just some charlatan?  Maybe it was fate, I don’t know.  I do know we needed her.  She looks just like mother in that painting in father’s study.”  _That’s news to me._   “Her birthday is the same as mine.  And in Haven…I told you about the gauntlet in the Temple of Sacred Ashes?  We saw Father’s spirit, Fergus.  He’s the one who told us I was a twin.  He told me about Sierra not waking up.  She didn’t believe him either, at first.  But I swear it’s true.  She’s our sister.”

 “Aedan, look, I don’t know what’s been done to you, but we will get through this-“

 “Fergus, I’m not losing my mind.  I haven’t been manipulated by blood magic.  She really is our sister.”

 “Pup…I’m sorry about this, but you’ve been deceived.  I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but something has happened.  Our sister’s dead.  She’s gone, Aedan.  This Sierra…she’s got some agenda, some hidden ability…I will get to the bottom of this, but there’s something.  Maybe she’s just using your grief and loneliness against you.  But you have to see her for what she is!”

 “You’ve been back for all of five minutes, and you’re already treating me like a stupid child?  What is wrong with you?  Fergus, I’m not an idiot.  I am capable of seeing the truth myself.  Why are you being like this?  What happened to you out there?”

 “What happened to me?  Aedan, I spent almost a year recovering from a severe injury, dreaming every night of seeing my wife and son again, only to finally make it back and learn that they are all dead.  I didn’t even know you’d survived – I thought I was the last one!  And now I find out some woman with a vague resemblance to my mother is flitting about masquerading as my sister?  I don’t think my reaction is unreasonable.”

 “I hear you, but brother, I swear to you, she is our sister.  Besides, what possible motive could she have?”

 “What motive?  Why would anyone want the power and prestige of being from one of the oldest noble families in Ferelden?  Don’t be naïve.  Maybe she just wants a family of her own.  I’m willing to believe that’s possible.  But have you thought she could be using you to get to the Crown?  She married a Prince, for the Maker’s sake.”

 Aedan laughed, a harsh bark lacking real mirth.  “Fergus, she could have had the Crown.  Cailan offered it to her.  Maker’s sake, Eamon tried to force her into it.”  There was a pause; I pictured Fergus raising an eyebrow.  “He thought having the ‘long-lost Cousland’ as queen could stabilise Cailan’s reign.  He was completely against Alistair being made a prince.  And, by the way, she didn’t know Alistair was to be a prince when they married.  She expected him to remain just a Grey Warden.  Cailan told them later.”

 “Aedan-“ Fergus’ tone was almost desperate now.

 “I understand; you haven’t seen what I have, ‘Gus.  You haven’t been here.  You’ve never seen her disappear into thin air, leaving all her clothing behind in a pile, only to reappear later somewhere else.  She hasn’t saved your life a dozen times by knowing in advance what would happen.  The only reason this battle wasn’t in Denerim, with massive loss of life, was because she knew where the darkspawn would be, and we’ve already discussed it isn’t possible for her to have been in league with them.

 “Would you just…just give her a chance?  It doesn’t make up for losing mother and father, or Oriana and Oren, Maker knows it doesn’t, but if you let it, she might be the one small point of light in everything terrible that’s happened.”

 “I can’t, pup.  She is your friend, I understand that, but Rendon was father’s friend too.  Our sister is dead.  I won’t risk anything more happening to my family.”

 It was quiet then, and I felt completely drained.  I’d been right; nothing good came from eavesdropping.  I wished I could have unheard the conversation.  I clambered to my feet, suddenly wanting nothing more than to find my husband and make him hold me until the rejection stopped hurting.

 It wasn’t like I didn’t understand Fergus’ point of view; my story sounded insane, and that was for people who’d seen my strange earth gadgets and clothes, who had witnessed my inexplicable advance knowledge first hand.  Fergus had none of that.  Hadn’t met me, hadn’t seen my things, so impossible to exist in Thedas.  He’d lost everything, and now someone was trying to fill the gap with an impossibility.  Even though every word Aedan had spoken had been true, I’d never be big enough to fill that sort of hole, especially for someone who didn’t believe me.

 That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.  Aedan had accepted me so easily; we had been through so much together, it just seemed natural.  I had hoped, somehow, that maybe the circle of people who believed me, who took me as I was, weird foreknowledge and absolute inability to care for myself in Thedas included, would get just one larger.  That the little family I had forged for myself could include a wise older brother who would love me just for being me.  But with the way he had spoken, I didn’t think there was any way I was going to have a relationship with that brother, not now.  I worried it would impact Aedan’s relationship with me; I didn’t want to be what came between the two brothers who had been close friends, before.  I vowed to stay out of Fergus’ way, and tried to steel my heart to let Aedan go, if I had to, so he could keep what family he had left.

 When Aedan found me, quite a while later, I was curled into a ball in Alistair’s lap, refusing to talk or do anything except cling to Alistair and rock.  I didn’t even look up as Aedan sank to the ground beside us, sighing heavily.

 “I suppose you heard all that, then?”

 He must have taken my silence as agreement, but he turned to explain things to my very confused husband.  “Fergus doesn’t believe me.  That’s she’s our sister.  He thinks she’s either using blood magic to confuse me, or just preying on my loneliness to get close to the crown.”

 Alistair’s arms stiffened, and I suddenly worried he’d feel the need to defend my honour to the new Teyrn of Highever.  _Ironic, considering what he thought of me after learning about the game._   I squeezed his arm tighter, and he relaxed again, rubbing my back.

 “Look, sis, give him time.  Cailan is talking to him now.  And Riordan said he would as well.  I’m going to ask Greagoir and Irving to assure him you aren’t a mage.  He’ll come around.”

 “No, he won’t.”  I finally looked up, eyes probably red-rimmed with suppressed tears.  “Aedan, you and I have been through so much…it wouldn’t matter if I was truly a Cousland or not.  You’d still be my brother in our hearts.  But I can’t even blame Fergus – I wouldn’t accept me either, if I were him.  Just…leave it alone.  I’ll avoid him, we can both act like liege-lord and vassal in public, and that’s all.  I won’t be the thing that gets in between you two.”

 Aedan sighed again.  “He’s asked to see you after supper.”  Alistair stirred, and Aedan held up a hand.  “Both of you.  Cailan will be there, and I’ll come, too.  We’ll bring your things and show him.  We can bring him around.  I know you’re the first to think you don’t deserve something, but you will have another brother, Sierra.  We’ll find a way.”

 I shrugged noncommittally.  I certainly wasn’t in the position to decline a summons from a Teyrn, especially my future liege-lord, but I held no illusions it would go any way but badly.

 Despite that, I tried my best to get cleaned up; Cailan’s command tent had been turned into his personal tent, so we no longer had space for a shower.  Instead I sponged off in a bucket, Leliana braided my hair in some ornate fashion, and I put on the only fancy dress I’d brought with me – the now-faded green velvet I’d originally brought from Earth.  I had my boots, my jeans, my iPhone, my flashlight, and my zippo with me ready to show off, and I still felt like vomiting from anxiety.

Alistair had dressed in clothes as well – his were more functional, linen trousers and a tunic, as we had packed for a battle, not a ball – but his body felt warm against my side, his hand firmly settled on my hip possessively.  He’d stayed with me the entire afternoon, not pushing me to talk, but just being there.  My rock, as always.  Aedan met me outside Fergus appropriated tent and held my hand as we entered together.

 Fergus and Cailan had clearly been arguing before we’d arrived; Cailan’s jaw was clenched, his eyes bright with anger, while Fergus looked more serene, but his ire was betrayed by a prominent vein on his forehead, and his hands balled into fists at his sides.  Fergus rose somewhat shakily from the small stool he’d been sitting on when we entered, while Cailan just stood to the side, arms crossed and expression irritated.

 Alistair bowed, and I dropped into a curtsy, not perfect, but acceptable after hours of training with Leliana.  “Your Majesty,” I murmured, and Cailan smirked slightly.  “Your Grace.”

 I stayed in the curtsy, head bowed, as was expected, until given permission to rise – permission which never came.  After an awkward minute, where I balanced precariously and Fergus just stared at the top of my head, Cailan broke the silence with a disgusted huff, hurrying over to me and offering his hand for me to hold as I rose.  I saw the king and Aedan shooting disbelieving looks at Fergus, while Alistair wrapped his arm protectively around me again.  I had to stop myself from cuddling into his embrace, and instead turned back to Fergus with what I hoped was my best impassive expression.

 “You asked to see us, your Grace?”  I tried to keep my voice steady, though I was sure it betrayed my nerves. 

 Fergus examined me for a couple of awkward minutes.  “I’ve heard a rather unbelievable tale about you, your Highness.” 

 I cringed at the title.  “You could call me Sierra, if you wanted.”

 He stared at me.  “No, I don’t think I shall, Princess.”  He shot a sideways glance at Aedan.  “I think it’s best if we don’t try to pretend you didn’t come from nowhere, only to marry into royalty.”

 I felt Alistair stiffen, and Cailan snorted – whether in disgust or something else, I couldn’t have said; I held my hand out to forestall the stream of objections I knew would come.  “As you wish, your Grace.  Though the only title I claim is Steward, and I entirely blame his Majesty for that as well.  I hope my business experience will be of use as one of your vassals.”

 “Business you conducted back on this…Earth?”  I nodded.  “My brother tells me you have proof.”  I nodded again, lifting the bag I carried.  He waved a hand dismissively.  “I’m not interested at the moment.  My brother and my king tell me you aren’t from here; I can’t exactly disagree.”  Cailan shifted, and Fergus coloured slightly, without breaking eye contact.

 He stared at me for another awkward minute.  “I may have to accept that you’re not from Thedas.  I may have to accept you as Steward of Soldier’s Peak, and my vassal.”

 “And indeed you will, Teyrn Cousland.”  Cailan’s tone was firm and final, and Fergus acknowledged it with a nod.

 “But no one can force me to accept you as my sister, when you are not.  Maybe you truly believe you are.  I hope that’s the case.  Either way, you’ve convinced Aedan of it, and nothing I say will change his mind; the same for his Majesty, clearly.  So let me just say this right now, with witnesses.  I will accept your oath of fealty, and I will treat you the same as any other vassal.  I will ignore my personal feelings on the matter.  But if I find out you knowingly manipulated Aedan, or anyone else here…if you had any involvement in the attack on Highever…if I believe you to be a threat to my country, my brother, or myself, I will end you.”

 “Fergus-“  I assumed Cailan was about to reprimand the Teyrn for being rude; I interrupted him.  His rudeness was the least of my worries; if he would work with me, I could live with that.

 “Thank you, your Grace.  I am sorry if my presence has caused you distress.”

 “The rest of us have things to discuss.  You may go, Princess, unless his Majesty objects?”

 Cailan waved apologetically, and Alistair kissed my temple; Aedan squeezed my hand, and then I slipped out of the tent, exhausted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your prompts have been put on my list...which I will slowly work away at. I do have real life stuff to deal wih and I don't want it to affect this story, so it won't be quick, but...I'll get there, eventually :)


	115. DisenChanted

Chapter One Hundred Fifteen: DisenChanted

 

I slipped out of the tent, leaving my brother and my husband to ‘important’ discussions with the new Teyrn.  Honestly, the meeting had gone about as well as I could expect, and I was just happy we could hopefully work together as needed, even if we’d never have a familial relationship. 

 I was trying really hard not to take it personally.

 I finally caught Leliana alone when I got back to the Wardens’ camp; with a grin for a fantastic distraction, I dragged the bard into my tent, made her undo the braid she’d put in my hair, and demanded she tell me everything about her and Nathaniel.

 “Why didn’t you tell me, Leli?”

 She giggled.  “I didn’t want to...what’s that word you use?  Jinx?  I didn’t want to jinx it.  He’s kind, yes?  And shy.  I didn’t want to embarrass him either.  And when things are new…”

 “I know.  Sometimes you just want to keep it for yourself, right?”

 “Exactly, my friend.  But he is wonderful, Sierra.”

 “Sort of broody, isn’t he?”

 “Only on the surface.  He’s been through so much…but he has a sense of humour, underneath it.”

 “So is it serious?” I teased.

 She flushed.  “It hasn’t been very long…”

 “So that’s a yes, then?”

 She smiled.  “It’s not a no.”  Her smile faded.  “Is that…do you think people will be upset?  I sound Orlesian, after all.”

 “Leli…I know that you have ties to the Chantry.  I know you’re going to end up working as some sort of agent for the Divine.  I know about Dorothea.  But I also know that you’re one of the kindest, sweetest, most devout people I know.  If someone really has a problem with you because of your accent, then that’s their issue.  I think you deserve whatever happiness you can find, and I hope it keeps you from losing yourself too much to the Chantry.  Does he make you happy?”

 Her answering smile was radiant, but also mischievous.  “I’ll tell you one thing.  He’s a sinfully good kisser.”

 I snickered, and we spent the next couple of hours in girly giggles, comparing our love lives and sharing our dreams of the future.  It was a nice change of pace from the fighting and fear we’d been living with for a year, and it was a good distraction from my issues with Fergus.  Zev joined us, and the talk turned to comparing their experiences, bard and Crow trying to outdo each other with outrageous seductions and dangerous liaisons.  I had nothing to offer that could compare – I’d been sheltered, despite my less-than-ideal upbringing – but it was amusing to relax and just listen, without worrying about politics, or being ambushed, or an upcoming battle with darkspawn.

 Aedan and Alistair finally returned from their discussion with Fergus and Cailan; Nathaniel had apparently joined them and been reunited with Fergus, and he returned to our camp with the two new Warden-Commanders.  Leli, Zev and I tumbled out of my tent, me blushing crimson from the stories they’d been telling, to get a strange look from the three men; giggling, I snuggled up to Alistair and pulled him in for a kiss.

 “Tell you later.”

 “Mmm.”  He kissed me again.  “You okay?”

 Everyone looked interested in my answer, so the six of us settled around the fire companionably.

 “I’m fine.”  Aedan scoffed, and I grinned at him.  “No, really.  I don’t blame Fergus.  He has no reason to believe me, and he’s been through too much to be really willing to trust in anything right now.  I wouldn’t be willing to accept me either.”

 “You’re far more forgiving than I am.”  Alistair scowled, and I pushed his cheeks up into a smile with my fingers.

 “You’re allowed to be upset on my behalf, but I don’t want it affecting your relationship with him.”  I turned to Aedan.  “You especially.  He needs all the support he can get right now.  I can’t even imagine what he’s going through.  I’m fine; I want you to promise me you’ll take care of him.  I’ll just stay out of his way for a while.”

 “That should be easy,” Nathaniel declared.  “He is leaving in three days to take back Highever.  I’m going with him.  I didn’t expect him to accept me either, but if he can forgive me, I’ll offer any support I can.  King Cailan is sending us with a company of soldiers, and he’ll send stonemasons and other craftsmen once Denerim’s population settles.  We don’t know what is happening at the castle, but we’ll find out, retake it if necessary, and start the recovery before I leave for Amaranthine.”

 “We’re not going?”  I looked at Aedan in surprise.  “You’re okay with that?”

 He winced.  “As much as I’d like to help Fergus, I have to admit, I’m not sure I could stomach fighting my way back through those halls again.  We’ll need to go eventually, but not right away.  And Fergus isn’t willing to wait.  Besides, Cailan’s asked for us – all of us – in Denerim for a celebration of the end of the Blight.  I’m guessing he wants us there when he tells the Landsmeet he gave Ostagar to the Dalish.  And I think he’s got some sort of plans for the Alienage – he spent an awful lot of time talking to Kallian, recently.”

 “We’ll also announce that Ferelden’s Grey Wardens have seceded from the Order at Weisshaupt.  I imagine we’ll receive a delegation from the Anderfels fairly soon; Duncan sent a messenger before the battle.  Might as well be there to receive them.”

 After that, the rest of our companions started filtering back into camp, and we separated to go to bed.  Alistair pulled me into his lap once we were alone in our tent, his shirt off, weak firelight glinting off his toned abs and broad shoulders.

 “You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

 “Hmm?” I was far more interested in running my fingers over his impressive muscles and nuzzling into his neck than I was in discussing my liege-lord.

 “Love,” he chided, pushing me away slightly.

 I sighed.  “I won’t say it doesn’t hurt.  I didn’t expect him to come running with open arms, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the degree of hostility.  I was telling the truth though – I’m not surprised he isn’t totally trusting, and I don’t blame him.  He’s been through too much – I think I was just one thing too many.”

 “With time, maybe he’ll come around?”

 “I doubt it.  He wouldn’t give himself the chance.  That would involve getting to know me, and he doesn’t want to.  But he said he will work with me; if we can tolerate each other, that’s enough.  I have you, and Aedan.  Fergus has no one, and I won’t be the thing that gets in the middle between him and Aedan.”

 I snuggled in again, burying my nose in the crease between his neck and shoulder.  “I don’t really want to talk about Fergus right now.”  I punctuated my statement with a gentle bite on his neck making him gasp as I started stroking my fingers across his bare chest again.  “Do you?”

 “Not in the slightest.”  Alistair’s tone was husky as he bore me down to my bedroll, divesting me of my clothes in record time and distracting me rather admirably from thinking about anything, never mind about my brothers.

 Over the next several days, many things happened.  The mages completed their work scouring the land with fire, and the sensation of the darkspawn taint around the site of the battle began lessening slightly.  Sten and Irving finished their work of preserving the Archdemon’s blood, hide, and much of the bone, and it was all crated for travel to Denerim.  The wounded largely either died or rallied, and each day, the small pyres got smaller until they stopped.

 Aedan performed several Joinings for soldiers who’d been tainted by the darkspawn; none of them survived, though I wasn’t that surprised given how quickly they’d become ill after the battle – most of them looked barely better than ghouls by the time it was even attempted.

 Leliana, who’d been helping out with the wounded, came to me one day asking me to get Alistair, Aedan, and Anders, and then follow her.  We scoured the camp until we found the two Warden-Commanders in a meeting with Cailan, and pulled Anders away from the makeshift infirmary where he’d been working with Wynne and the other Circle healers.  Anders grumbled as we followed Leliana almost outside of the army’s encampment; Aedan and Alistair raised their eyebrows at me, but I just shrugged.  _Don’t ask me!_   She was wearing the same Chantry garb she wore back in Lothering; I’d gotten so used to seeing her in armour, I’d forgotten what it looked like.

 A ways beyond the rest of the tents, around the edge of a large outcropping, we finally came upon a camp.  There was a small earthworks ringing the area, with make-shift fences planted in the mud; it was guarded, strangely, and the templar armour on the two guards was a clear indication of who camped there.  I hadn’t paid attention to where the templars and mages were set up, but given how much I’d seen of Irving and Greagoir, they had to have been sleeping somewhere more central.  And this camp was far too small for the entire contingent from Kinloch, not to mention it seemed strange they’d be so isolated, almost vulnerably so on the edge of the army encampment.

 The two templars on guard, neither of whom were wearing helmets, initially seemed excited to see Leliana, and watching her smile coyly at them, I could see why; however, they stiffened when they noticed us following her, and immediately moved to block entrance.

 “Sister-“ one of them began, obviously planning to turn us away.

 Leliana gave the one speaking a look that every Catholic school child, and from what I’d seen, everyone who’d ever set foot in a Chantry, was intimately familiar with.  It was the glare of a woman in control, one who could see right through you and know without checking that you hadn’t washed behind your ears.  One who knew your innermost thoughts, and wasn’t totally averse to using them against you.  The poor man visibly withered, glancing desperately at his partner for help, and finding no aid there, he muttered something that sounded whiny and discontented, and stepped aside.

 The four of us followed her past the small entrance, and the reason for the camp’s isolation became immediately obvious.  There were injured men and women there, being tended by a small number of harried-looking mages; strangely, those writhing on their pallets on the ground looked superficially whole – there were no missing limbs, no bleeding wounds.  But the sensation was the kicker; the taint was everywhere here, much stronger than the rest of the camp.  A closer glance showed several templars with blackening skin, dark blotches and black veins marring their pale Fereldan complexions; two had eyes white with rheum, like Duncan in the Deep Roads.  Two others were being restrained as they struggled, hairless, gnashing their teeth and snarling like animals – or darkspawn. 

 Those that weren’t so obviously tainted weren’t far behind, sweating and grey, moaning in pain and delirium.  A number of mages were also affected, huddled together in one corner of the enclosure.

 I glanced up at Alistair to see him returning my hopeless gaze; very few of these people would be healthy enough to undergo the Joining, given how much time had passed since the battle.  It was a minor miracle any of them had avoided becoming ghouls already, and I assumed that the mages healing them had been the only reason they hadn’t all turned.  My gaze slid over to Aedan, to see raging fury instead of the helpless sadness Alistair and I had shared.

 “Why have these people not been brought to the Grey Wardens before now?” he asked, his tone dangerously calm. 

 The templar guard, an incredibly young-looking redhead with a bit of a nervous tic in his eye, twitched, which was probably the most sensible response to the unspoken threat.  I hadn’t even noticed he’d followed us inside the makeshift gate.  _I’d be scared of Aedan if he used that tone on me too._   “I do not know, my Lo-, uh, Warden Commander.”  He was eyeing Aedan’s tabard, which he’d insisted all Wardens now wear.  “The Knight Commander and the Grand Cleric told us to stay here and be on guard, so we did.”

 “I suggest you send a runner for the Knight Commander now, then.”  It was strange to think that Aedan, with all his twenty-four years, was considerably older than the young man trying not to cringe under my brother’s gaze.

 The poor kid nodded, and left us to head over to another young, untainted looking templar; the blond saluted smartly, smashed his helmet onto his head, and left at a jog.  Anders knelt down next to a mage writhing on a thin blanket, and I felt the aura of his magic as blue healing poured forth; the elf slumped into what looked like a deep sleep – a kindness, I was sure.  Anders looked less relieved than I expected, moving to kneel beside the next mage he saw.  Looking around, I realised why; the healers circulating through trying to do what they could were focusing mainly on templars.  The mages had been left largely to themselves, and I guessed the only thing that would prevent the healers from helping other mages was the threat of violence from their templar guards.

 One of the tainted mages appeared to be the only one helping his fellows; from the pallet on which he sat, I could see him reaching out towards his neighbours, magic streaming from his fingers.  While obviously sick, he appeared much healthier than the others; his hair had not fallen out, his skin showed black veins only up one arm, and his eyes were clear, though dark circles underneath them betrayed his exhaustion.  With a start, I recognised him as a mage I’d met before: Alim.  I was willing to bet anything his last name was Surana.

 I stepped over to him just as Anders took over his healing; the elf collapsed back, panting slightly.  As I got closer, I could tell he was completely drained; he’d used every last scrap of his mana trying to keep his fellows alive, when he was dying too.

 I knelt beside him, gently touching his hand.  “Alim?”

 He turned his head slowly, his eyes focusing on my face, his expression bleak until he recognised me.  “Sierra?”  I nodded, and he flipped his hand to grip my fingers with surprising strength.  “Thank the Maker.  I’ve been asking for the Wardens since we were dragged here, but I didn’t know if you were still with them, and I doubt any of my messages would have gotten through anyway.”  He squeezed my hand until it ached, but I held his just as tight.  “Please, Sierra, you must recruit us.”  He gestured with his free hand, a vague wave that seemed to encompass the entire camp.  “All of us.”

 I ignored that for a moment, unwilling to be the one to shatter the hope he’d clearly been clinging to since he’d become tainted.  “What happened here?”

 Alistair and Aedan approached behind me, and I heard the two crouch to hear his response.

 “The Grand Cleric.”  Alim’s response was bitter, venomous – a remarkable change from the man who’d ratted out Jowan in the tower.  “When she found out a group of mages and templars had become ill, she forced the Knight-Commander to isolate us.  Didn’t want to allow the Wardens access to too many mages – it put too many of us outside of Chantry control, she said.  She was angry that Greagoir let Solona and Anders slip through their grasp, and wouldn’t allow any more of us to be conscripted.” 

 He coughed, blackish blood flecks on his hand where he covered his mouth.  “Greagoir tried to argue with her, tried to convince her that templars were being harmed by the same decision, but she said she wouldn’t allow them to become Wardens either.  She forced some healers into trying to ‘cure’ the templars, threatened them with Tranquility if they wasted mana on healing the mages, and left us here to die.  I was the only one well enough to try to heal the others.  I only had a small cut – just a stupid nick on a finger when I was grazed by a piece of broken sword that flew by.  I’ve been trying to keep the others alive as long as I could, hoping someone would find us.”

 I squeezed Alim’s hand, trying desperately not to cry.  It was so typical, so stupid; I didn’t even know why I was surprised.  The old prune of a Grand Cleric was a zealot of the worst sort, using Chantry law to achieve her own ends, as I’d clearly seen in the Landsmeet.  It shouldn’t have come as a shock that she’d be threatened by the power wielded by the Wardens, though I was appalled at the deaths she was willing to countenance just to keep the Wardens from gaining a precious few recruits.  And it was even worse than that – soldiers from the army had died for the lack of healers, soldiers who could have been saved if the handful of healers keeping the afflicted templars alive had been available to aid in the effort.

 I couldn’t decide whether to throw up, or find the Grand Cleric and beat her silly.

 I took a deep breath, murmuring some sort of reassuring nonsense to Alim before standing to talk to my brother and my husband. 

 “Aedan…”

 “I know.”  He looked over the group of sick mages and templars with barely concealed rage.  “There’s maybe four of them who will even live until I can get Jowan to make the potion, never mind how many will survive the ritual.  If we had only found them sooner…”

 Leliana spoke, startling me; the bard had approached unheard as we talked.  “I am sorry I didn’t find out sooner.  I thought it was strange, that several healers were nowhere to be found near the infirmary tents, and started searching for them; I only discovered this place this morning, by accident.  I had never imagined…”

 I turned and hugged her.  Her voice sounded so lost, so defeated, and I couldn’t stand hearing my friend sound that way.  Growing up without religion, I could only imagine that seeing the result of your closely held beliefs being abused must be horrifying.

 “Not your fault, Leli,” I assured her, and Aedan and Alistair murmured agreement.  “I’m glad you found them at all, and I just hope that Cailan can use this to make sure that old hag never lives it down.”

 She choked out a dismayed laugh, torn between amusement at my irreverence and despair at the tragedy that her faith had propagated. 

 Just then the Knight-Commander arrived.  The four of us – Anders was still busy soothing tortured mages – turned as one to glare at him; he just sighed, gesturing for us to step to the side where we couldn’t be heard.

 “I’m not supposed to say this, but I’m glad you’ve found our little secret, Wardens.”  Aedan looked to be nearing apoplexy, and Greagoir waved his hand defensively.  “This was not my idea, believe me.  Think of me what you will, assume the worst about the mages in my care, but you have to believe at least that I would not allow so many of my own men to perish for politics.”

  _He has a point.  I don’t know whether he’d have been happy with more mages being recruited, regardless of the circumstances, but I can’t believe he’d let the templars die with them._

 “I…you…they’re all going to die, Knight-Commander.  At your order.”

 “And what was my alternative?”  He just sounded tired.  “I can’t ignore the Grand Cleric of Ferelden when she gives me a direct order.  I argued with her until she threatened to have me excommunicated.  And if I’d kept on without regard for myself until she did that, she’d just promote someone less likely to even try.”

 The reality of the situation was sinking in, leaving me numb.  _If not for one, stupid, hateful, narrow-minded woman, some of these people might have survived._   I sighed.  It was too late – most of them were already dead, even if they didn’t know it.

 Aedan appeared to be trying to swallow his rancor to do what needed to be done.  Finally he spoke, his voice tight, the only thing that betrayed his dismay.  “I hereby conscript every man and woman in this camp who survives until,” he paused and checked the position of the sun, “sundown.  I will leave my healer here to keep the most likely survivors as healthy as possible.  Those who have already turned, Knight-Commander, I will personally put out of their misery – immediately.  You should have your men prepare a pyre; I’d be somewhat surprised if even one or two survive the night.”

 Greagoir nodded and stepped away to start giving orders; I was actually impressed with how little he fought.  _He truly didn’t want this for these people, did he?_   It was sad that so much death would come at the hands of one pruney hag with an attitude problem.

 Anders had completed a circle around the templars while we spoke, examining some, expending a little bit of healing on others.  He approached us as the Knight-Commander stepped away.  “When can we do the Joining?”

 I was pleased to note he didn’t even ask if, but only when. 

 Aedan winced.  “I’ll get Jowan started.  We’re going to need some fresh darkspawn blood.  I’d guess nightfall.”

 Anders grimaced.  “I’m not sure any of them will be in their right minds by then.”  He’d had more than enough experience with the taint’s progression over the last few days to be able to say that with some confidence.  “Maybe Alim, and one of the templars.  And I know it’s beneath me, but I hope I’m wrong about that particular templar.”

 Aedan’s brow furrowed.  “Oh?”

 Anders flushed slightly.  I suddenly had a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

 “Who?”

 The mage sighed.  “His name is Rolan.  He-“

 He would have continued, but I gasped.  Anders shot me a strange look, but I held up one finger to ask him to wait, and grabbed Aedan’s arm, pulling him a few steps away, Alistair at my heels.

 “You can’t recruit Rolan,” I whispered furiously.

 “Why?”  Aedan looked sincerely puzzled.

 “He’s one of the bad kind of templars – thinks every mage is a hair’s breadth away from becoming an abomination.  Regardless of being conscripted, he’ll never let go of the Chantry.  He’ll come after Warden mages, set up ambushes when he thinks he can isolate one and invite his templar buddies to help.  And capture isn’t what he’ll have in mind.  He’s a danger to every mage in the Order.”

 Aedan frowned.  “Surely he can be…re-educated.”

 I wrung my hands, agitated.  “I don’t think so.  Aedan, please.  Please don’t conscript him.”  I didn’t want to tell him about Anders and Justice, but I would if I had to. 

 Aedan examined my face, looking apologetic.  “I already did.  If he survives until tonight…Sierra, I won’t have a choice.  But in the game, did he have the taint when he Joined?”

 I shook my head, distraught.

 “Well, then let’s just hope he doesn’t make it until the potion is ready...or that he doesn’t survive the Joining itself.”  Aedan stepped back to Anders, ending the conversation.

 I huffed, debating what to do, when Alistair wrapped his arm around my waist.  “We’ll watch him.  We won’t let him get away with anything.  I promise.” 

 “Okay.”  I relaxed in his arms, turning to nuzzle my husband’s neck.  “All these people…”

 “I know.”  He kissed my temple.  “Maybe you should go back to camp, get Jowan ready, and send out a group to find some darkspawn.  I don’t think you should watch this.”  I leaned back, shooting him a dirty look, but he just stroked my cheek softly.  “Please.  Let me protect that empathetic heart of yours just a little, okay?  Just go.” 

 The sadness in his eyes as we both gazed at the ghouls who used to be templars and mages was clear, and I finally nodded.  _It’ll only hurt him more to know I’m watching._   I kissed him once, chastely but tenderly, then pulled away.

 I hugged Anders, whispering in his ear my plea that he keep as many mages alive as possible, even at the risk of losing a particular templar; he squeezed me once in acknowledgement and then let me go.  I wrapped my arms around Aedan as he stood, stiff with tension, almost shuddering in my embrace.

 “I’ll go talk to Jowan, and send Sten and the dwarves to get darkspawn blood.”  He nodded woodenly.  “I’m sorry.  I love you.”  I kissed his cheek, then somehow both reluctant and eager at the same time, slowly walked back to camp with Leliana, the bard as somber and quiet as I felt.

 


	116. Three Campfires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the unedited, NSFW version of this story. If you prefer a version with no explicit sex, please check out my story at fanfiction dot net under the same username!

Chapter One Hundred Sixteen:  *Three Campfires

 

The Joining that night went about as well as expected.  While three mages and three templars had survived until the potion was ready, most of them were ravaged by the taint, barely able to stay upright, skin blackening, hair falling out, fever running rampant through their ruined bodies.  Alim and Rolan were the exceptions; the mage looked pale, but otherwise well, and Rolan had black veins visible only under the skin of his hands and arms.  Unsurprisingly, they were the only two who survived, and in Rolan’s case, it was a close thing – he convulsed and stopped breathing for a handful of agonising seconds before he seemed to stabilise. 

 It was interesting, feeling the taint alter in the bodies of the two who survived – overshadowed, of course, by the horror of losing four more recruits, not to mention all of those Aedan and Alistair must have had to put out of their misery earlier.  I’d warned Zevran that Aedan would need some extra support later; no matter how necessary, wielding the sword of mercy was still an execution.  Aedan would never admit that it bothered him – _stubborn ass_ – but having Zevran prepared to handle the emotional storm could only be a good thing.  And I’d be ready for Alistair, whatever he needed.

 Anders sighed sadly, eyeing Rolan’s unconscious form; it would be worse, I knew, if he had known what I did about the future, instead of just generally knowing that the man was an ass.  Alistair and I shared a lingering glance, both resolved not to allow bigotry to impact our friends who just happened to be mages.

 Pyres had been prepared for those who didn’t make it, and we all had a moment of silence – a disgruntled, irritated, depressed silence – as Aedan and Alistair lit them.  Alim and Rolan woke within the hour, and after being fed a Warden-sized snack, were ushered to tents to get some much-needed rest.

 Cailan had been informed of the Grand Cleric’s disgusting decision to hide tainted mages and templars from the Grey Wardens, and from the thunderous expression on his face, I guessed that when he confronted the old hag, the fight would be epic.  I was too tired and too sad, however, to find out, and I dragged Alistair back to our tent immediately after the new surviving Grey Wardens recovered. 

 My husband had been too quiet since they’d returned from the Chantry’s hidden camp; I hadn’t counted how many people had been tainted, but given only six left to take the Joining, I was guessing Alistair and Aedan both had probably granted merciful deaths to a dozen or more.  I knew Alistair wouldn’t want to talk about it with me – he seemed to remain convinced that if I was forced to confront some of the more brutal truths about life in Thedas and the acts he had no choice but to participate in, I’d lose respect for him, or lose the desire to stay in Thedas altogether. 

 Instead of discussing the details, I helped him take off his dragonbone armour, undressed myself, and pulled him down into our combined bedroll, allowing him to bury his face in my belly while I held him and stroked my fingers through his scruffy hair.

 “I love you, you know that, right?”

 He shuddered, and I dug my fingers in harder, kneading his scalp.  The noise outside slowly settled as the camp went to sleep, and he continued to hold me, pressing his face into my skin.  I’d almost have thought he’d fallen asleep except for the periodic spasms that passed through him; finally, after what might have been a half hour, I felt the telling wetness of the tears he’d probably been trying to deny since morning spilling onto my stomach.

 He looked up, then, but his expression, instead of the regret or sadness I expected, was furious.

 “How dare she?  That…that…bitch!”  He was almost stuttering in his anger.

 I nodded. What else could I add?  _He’s not wrong, and I’d like to say worse things about her._

 He lowered his eyes, whispering so softly I could barely hear him.  “Being a leader is even worse than I expected.”

 I couldn’t deny it; he was right.  It was often easier to follow, to let someone else make the hard decisions and live with the consequences.  I stroked his cheek with one finger.  “What do you need?”

 His eyes darkened as we made eye contact again and he saw the truth in mine – whatever he needed, I’d give, and give gladly.

 “You,” he replied, his voice a plea that sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine, pooling warmth between my legs.

 I nodded, and with one massive push, reversed our positions quickly, pressing his naked form down onto his back as I leaned over him, capturing his lips in a searing kiss.  He tried to chase me as I pulled away, but I held him down with one hand in the centre of his chest.  After all the times he’d held me, distracted me, kept me sane through the Deep Roads and everything with Duncan…the least I could do was return the favour, and I planned to make it count.

 I started sensually; I left him on the bedroll and dug through my things until I found a clean cloth, and my little stone shower head.  With a cautious movement, I dampened the cloth with warm water, and then turned to carefully wipe his face with the warm, wet fabric.  I slowly removed sweat and dirt as I dragged the cloth down his neck, his bulging, muscular arms, and his lean, sculpted abdomen.  He laid quietly, his eyes never leaving me as I worked, and while I blushed periodically as I reached across him, dangling my breasts in his face or brushing against him, I didn’t stop until his entire upper body had been cleansed.

 It was his turn to blush as I washed his legs, and then carefully, softly stroked the damp cloth across his growing erection; I lingered there longer than strictly necessary, licking my lips as he swelled in my hand, and I giggled as he let out a frustrated groan.

 Tossing the cloth aside, I leaned over him again, kissing him briefly before using my lips, tongue, and hands to trace the path the cloth had followed.  I sucked hard over his pulse point, marking him, before soothing the irritated skin with a kiss; he grunted, and I had to push his hands down as he reached for me.  I softly drew my hands across the hard planes of his chest, running them through his sparse golden chest hair, scattering kisses across his shoulders, and down his chest until I reached his tiny, pebbled nipples. 

 He hissed as I laved my flattened tongue across one little bud, then switched and sucked the other gently.  His hands fisted in the blankets below him as I continued lavishing attention across his chest, and he growled out my name in a voice so hoarse with lust that I shivered deliciously.

 I sat back, reaching up to stroke his cheek, and he nuzzled into my palm.  “I’ve got you, love.”  I brushed my other thumb softly over a nipple again, and his growl turned into a needy whine.  I smirked and leaned down to capture the intoxicating sound with my lips.  “I’ll make you forget your own name, never mind all the rest.” 

 I kissed him again, and then returned to my ministrations across his chest and torso.  I started running my hands across his muscular abs as I kissed my way down from his chest, stopping to dip my tongue into the deep indent of his belly button, eliciting a gasp and a whispered prayer.  I climbed over one of his legs, encouraging him to move until I knelt between his strong thighs.  Avoiding his large, very prominent length, I pressed more kisses down over his hip, running my hands over his legs, until I reached the crease where his hip met his leg, and I sucked at that tender spot briefly, listening to Alistair groan.

 When I began softly licking the length of him, providing pleasure but no pressure, he arched up under me, and I looked up at the sweat-slick body of my husband.  He was completely gorgeous like that – his entire body tense, flexed muscles standing out in firm relief under his skin, his face red, eyes squeezed tightly shut, his entire body bowed, as he strained towards the relief I wasn’t quite ready to allow him.  Seeing him like that affected me, however, and I rubbed my legs together in agitation as a wave of arousal washed over me.

 I gave in.  Capturing his length between my lips, I swirled my tongue around the purple head and then sucked hard, one hand cupping his sac while the other crept down between my own legs, gathering some of the copious moisture there and going to work immediately, urgently, on my aching clit.

 It took only moments for his release, after the thorough build-up I’d given him; I drank him down gladly, listening to his hoarse shout as he came.  I hadn’t quite finished myself, however, and with an unfulfilled groan, I sat up, hand still active at my centre, needing more.  I assumed he’d be distracted by his own aftermath, but to my surprise, he sat up, his fingers replacing mine in my damp folds, latching his mouth onto my sensitive neck and tweaking a nipple with his other hand.  When two thick fingers pressed inside me, his thumb massaging frantically across my pearl, I gasped and shuddered and came in his arms, my hands gripping his hair as I rode out my climax.

 We collapsed together onto our bedroll, and I curled up in his arms, pulling the covers over us both.  He kissed my temple, and we fell asleep together, sated and smiling.

 *****

 The next morning, it became obvious the Wardens were going to have a few more challenges than we’d even anticipated.  With so many Grey Wardens, as well as the rest of our companions, our group had become large and somewhat unwieldy – and then there were the politics.

 At breakfast, Alim and Jowan immediately began acting like feral cats, backs up and hissing at each other.  I wasn’t surprised; Alim was the reason Jowan had been threatened with Tranquility, after all – whether justified or not, I still wasn’t sure – but given the large group, we decided two campfires were perhaps a good idea, and we separated the two mages with alacrity.  At the same time, Anders and Alim both bristled around Rolan, who refused to call any of the mages by their names, instead calling them ‘Mage’ or ‘Warden’ in mocking tones.  Aedan and Alistair both tried to intervene, with little success – proving a ‘tone’ was difficult, after all, and he was careful to do nothing that technically crossed the line, though he was rebuked strongly until he desisted – and the two campfire plan changed to three. 

 Conrad and Dougal had a falling out over the Dark Ritual and Conrad’s choice to stay in Ferelden, and Oghren and Faren were suddenly not on speaking terms, for no reason I was able to ascertain.

 In the end, Loghain and Sten joined Rolan at one campfire, Conrad and Faren joined Anders, Solona, and Jowan at another, and Alim, Dougal, and Oghren sat sullenly at a third.  The rest of us – Alistair and I, as well as Aedan, Zevran, Bel, Riordan, Leliana, and Mornwulf – rotated through all three, trying to bridge the gaps and keep everyone calm.

 The following day, Nathaniel, Fergus, and a portion of the Ferelden Army were going to be leaving for Highever; Aedan took the opportunity to solve some of the problems we were having.

 “I want to send some of the Wardens with Nathaniel.  They can help out around Highever, then go with the Arl to Amaranthine and begin preparing for the darkspawn assaults we know will be coming,” Aedan muttered to Alistair and I.

 “Good idea.  And if we plan it right, maybe fewer problems with those left behind?”  _I hope_.

 “Exactly,” Aedan agreed.  “I also think we should send a smaller group to Soldier’s Peak – they can work with Avernus, and help out the Drydens with getting everything ready.”

 “I’d send Jowan to Soldier’s Peak,” I suggested.  “Avernus will work better with a mage, and our other options are less likely to be open to working with an ancient blood mage.  Anders and Alim both would probably prefer to kill him.”

 “What if we send Conrad with Oghren, Bel, and Rolan to Amaranthine?  No conflict there, and Conrad can handle any trouble Rolan tries to make.”  Alistair looked at us, briefly surprised when neither of us disagreed with his suggestion.  “We obviously need Sten, Loghain, Riordan, Dougal, and the three of us in Denerim, for a while at least.”

 “So that leaves Jowan and…Wulf?  For Soldier’s Peak?” Aedan suggested.

 “Not Wulf,” I interjected, thinking of Kallian.  “Take him to Denerim.” 

 Aedan gave me a knowing look, but didn’t ask.  “What about Faren?  He’s pretty practical - pragmatic, even – and doesn’t seem bothered by mages.”

 “They’ll need an escort,” Alistair agreed.  “I’ll ask Cailan.”

 “He promised to provide the Peak with a guard anyway, until I could hire my own people.  I’m sure he’ll agree.”

 I was right, and it was decided, with Cailan’s approval, to send a group of soldiers with the two Wardens to Soldier’s Peak, but not before he made the group officially swear fealty to me.  I was extremely uncomfortable with the entire thing, but he insisted it was the only way to ensure the loyalty of the men I would have directly under my command.

 He asked for volunteers, and apparently ended up having to refuse dozens when he picked fifteen soldiers to transfer.  Apparently the Wardens’ reputation had earned admirers, and there was no shortage of people willing to work with us.  Some of them even offered to join the Wardens, but Aedan declined, saying that he wanted to get the current Wardens settled before he accepted any more, but that he would keep them in mind.  There were a few that seemed disappointed, but Aedan’s sincerity was obvious, and I knew that, down the road, he would truly consider those who proved themselves and were still interested.

 With the exception of one.  Among the group of knights who’d volunteered to go to the Peak was one familiar face that I doubted I’d ever forget, nor would I allow her to go through the Joining.  There were few women among the group, and that made Ser Mhairi stand out even more from her peers.  When she volunteered to Join the Wardens, I caught Aedan’s eye, and very subtly shook my head ‘no’.  I admired Mhairi’s eagerness and desire to serve, but no one would benefit from her death, least of all her.  While Avernus may have updated the Joining Potion, I wasn’t ready to trust it and use the poor woman as a guinea pig.

 What I did, instead, was accept the fealty of the fifteen knights, including Mhairi, and then promote her to be the leader of the group – the Lieutenant, Alistair whispered in my ear when it became obvious I had no idea what rank to call her.  _Maybe if she sees advancement in her future outside the Wardens, she won’t be so keen to join and we won’t have to refuse._   She seemed surprised at being singled out, but stepped forward confidently and agreed to take command of the small platoon of men assigned to me.

 I wondered if some of them would balk at being placed under the command of a woman – either Mhairi or myself – but none of them even blinked.  There were a few surprised glances at Mhairi’s sudden promotion, but my guess was that she lacked seniority over some of the people she’d just been put in charge of.  _I’ll ask Faren to keep an eye on her and see if she’s competent._

 I made it clear to the knights that, in my absence, they would follow directions from Faren and Levi Dryden, my seneschal.  They were to secure the fortress, aid in repairs and renovations as needed, begin patrols, and mark the route through the maze leading up to the Peak to make it more accessible.  Aedan gave Faren a map, which he’d copied from the one he made for himself on their way there the first time.

 And then it was time for goodbyes.  The two groups leaving – for Highever and for Soldier’s Peak – were planning to march at dawn, so there’d be no time for talk in the morning.  Fergus shook hands with Cailan and Alistair, pulled an agitated Aedan in for a tight hug, and with a glance in my direction that I couldn’t interpret, he excused himself to get the Highever troops ready.  Cailan bid those leaving good luck.  The rest of us went back to the Warden camp and spent the evening talking and laughing together.  Faren and Oghren seemed to have called a truce, and the two started a drinking contest that soon had them unconscious together, and for once not only Conrad, but Dougal joined in. 

 Perhaps there hadn’t been time for complete forgiveness, but the upcoming parting had made everyone rethink their hostilities, it seemed.  Rolan, Alim, Sten, and Loghain retired early to their tents.  I got the opportunity to hug everyone leaving us, though it wasn’t a terribly sad farewell since I knew we’d be seeing them again before too long. 

 Finally, everyone settled into tents. I woke early, hearing the packing of the Wardens leaving, and slipped out of the tent I shared with Alistair just in time to see Nathaniel sneak out of Leliana’s tent, face sombre.  I hugged Jowan, Conrad, and the dwarves one last time and then slipped into Leli’s tent.

 The bard was laying listlessly on her bedroll, naked, though with a blanket covering her; she startled and tried to cover herself better when I entered, but relaxed when I reassured her it was just me.

 “You okay?” I asked her, concerned for the hopeless expression on her face.

 She attempted to smile at me, but it fell flat.  “I will be fine, my friend.”  I frowned, and she sighed.  “I have an obligation.  I cannot stay, any more than he can go.”

 “Dorothea?”  She nodded.  “But, Leli…she doesn’t own you.  The Chantry doesn’t.  You need to do what’s right for you, too.  In the game, the next one?”  She nodded again.  “You’re the Left Hand of the Divine.  You end up trying to improve the situation in Kirkwall.  But Leli…you didn’t look happy.  You were up to your eyeballs in conspiracies and intrigue, but you never smiled.  You were involved with a Seeker doing some rather shady things.  That isn’t who you have to be!”

 “She saved me!”

 “And if she knew that what she had planned for you would make you miserable, do you think she’d still insist on going forward with that?”

 The bard looked at me, a single tear sliding down her cheek, then turned away, burying her face in her pillow.  I rubbed her back, silently offering support, until she relaxed again.

 “Perhaps there is a way to aid Dorothea, and still remain yourself.  To stay with Nathaniel.  Just…think about it, okay?”

 She squeezed my hand gratefully.  “Dorothea really becomes the Divine?”

 I nodded.  “In the game, anyway.  I suppose things might have changed since then.  Justinia, I think.  That’s the name she takes.  You say, in the game, that she’s a good person who thinks mages deserve to be treated fairly, who wants to reform the Circles and help people.  She sounds…good.”

 “She is.”

 “I’m glad.  We could use some of that.”  I slapped her hip with a smile.  “Now put on some clothes, lazy girl.  You can’t just lay around naked all day!”

 She laughed and I grinned as I climbed out of her tent.  The six Wardens were gone, and Aedan had just started breakfast.  With fewer of us – and the troublemakers temporarily separated – we kept just two campfires; while Aedan worked over a pot at one, I started a pot of porridge at the other.  Soon the smell of food had Wardens tumbling out of their tents, and we all settled in to eat.

 Afterwards, Aedan informed us that we would be leaving for Denerim in two days.  “The wagons to transport the injured have arrived, and they’ll follow behind, but we will be accompanying Cailan back to Denerim to await the Weisshaupt delegation, Cailan’s formal re-coronation, and the celebrations planned for the end of the Blight.  Afterwards, Loghain, Riordan, and Dougal will be leaving for Jader, Sten for Seheron, and the rest of us will travel to Amaranthine.

 “What about you, Leliana?  The Blight is over.  What will you do next?”

 Leliana wiped her mouth daintily and smiled.  “I’d like to come with you to Denerim, if you don’t mind, and perhaps to Amaranthine after that for a short time.  I have some obligations to a friend in Orlais to fulfill after that, but,” she glanced at me with a sly smile, “I think I can delay those for a little while.”

 “Excellent!”  Leliana actually looked surprised at Aedan’s enthusiasm.  “What?  I could use a good archer to train any new recruits.  And you tell the best stories.”

 The bard giggled happily and blushed, and Aedan turned to Wynne, who had joined us for the first time in what felt like months.  “And you, Wynne?  I know you’ve been helping out with the wounded.  Will you be travelling with us?”

 The mage nodded, looking pleased.  “I will.  His Majesty has asked me to remain at court for a time as a healer, and will allow me to continue working with the soldiers there.  After his confrontation with the Grand Cleric, I feel I may be able to recruit some of the other healers and possibly gain crown support to open a free clinic in Denerim.  I won’t stay there forever – I have some research of my own to do, and Shale and Caridin have requested my help in discovering the key to golem sentience – but I’d like to get things established, perhaps aid in the transition to having more free mages outside the Circle.”

 I looked at the healer in shock.  “I thought it might be nasty, but I never heard what happened with Cailan and the Grand Cleric.  I assumed they hadn’t talked yet.  What did happen?”

 Aedan laughed.  “It was marvellous, Sierra.  I wish you’d been there.  Cailan was furious, and he had most of the nobility standing with him, looking supportive even if they didn’t all totally understand what he was up to, or agree.  He called her a ‘self-serving, shrivelled-up, power-hungry hag,’ wasn’t it?” 

 He looked at Zevran for confirmation, the elf blushed slightly and nodded.  “Exactly so, amore mio.  I wasn’t aware you knew of my…presence.”

 I raised my eyebrow – _Zevran had snuck in, and been caught?  Hysterical_ – but Aedan just laughed.  “I know you, Zevran.  Anyway, Cailan accused the old bitch of murder, and told her he was going to make a plea to the Divine to have her replaced.”

 Leliana interjected.  “The Divine will have little to do with it, no?  Most Holy is getting on in years, and will likely have forgotten that Orlais no longer rules over Ferelden.”

 Aedan nodded.  “Her advisors, the most senior Grand Clerics, will have to deal with it – it will be interesting to see what happens there.  Anyway, Cailan told Elemena she may remain in Denerim for now, but that he would consider exiling her completely if she did anything to undermine him or the Wardens again.  And he demanded that she grant the Circle some independence – he didn’t threaten it, exactly, but the implication that he’d place the Circle under secular control if she didn’t agree was certainly obvious.  Greagoir didn’t say a word, but it was clear even he approved.  So now the Circle is going to train mages, but they’ll be permitted family visitors when they’re young, and will be allowed to leave the Circle more permanently after they’re Harrowed if they apply for permission.  They’ll have to check in at the local Chantry wherever they go, and it only applies in Ferelden, obviously, but they’ll be able to live outside direct templar supervision.”

 I snuck a look at Wynne, surprised at her beatific smile.  She’d always seemed so fanatically religious before, and I thought she might have been worried about allowing mages too much freedom.

 She returned my look with a wink.  “What?  Some very wise person I know convinced me that I have to look at what the Circle is attempting to accomplish, and decide if the current status quo is achieving that.  It is not.  I saw what desperation drove some mages to in Uldred’s uprising.  He may have been possessed, but the rest were just…desperate.  I’m an Equitarian, Sierra – we need the Circles, but not as prisons.  You were right.”

 I blushed.  “I distinctly don’t remember saying that.”

 She chuckled.  “I may have paraphrased a little.”

 Anders looked absolutely astonished, and I giggled at the open-mouthed expression on his face.  “The Circle is independent?”

 “Well, not totally.  But more than it was, yes.  There’ll still be Chantry oversight, and not all applications to leave the Circle will be approved if the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander don’t think the applicant is stable, but some mages will be allowed to live on their own.”  Aedan looked pleased, proud even, and I knew he was as impressed with Cailan as I was.  Taking away the Circle entirely was a recipe for disaster – mages did need somewhere to go and learn to control their powers, and those who’d been living in Circles shouldn’t be dumped out unceremoniously with nowhere to go – but the way things were just wasn’t going to be sustainable.

 Over the next two days, we ended up spending some time with Sereda – who was engaged to a Deshyr’s son, one of Harrowmont’s supporters, not the former casteless she’d taken on as her second – and heard about how the changes had been going in Orzammar.  They’d recovered Aeducan Thaig, as a result of the war games they’d used as training exercises for the Warrior and Military Castes, and hoped that by the time they returned to Orzammar, most of the Thaig would have been cleared of the taint and habitable.  She’d found some stone masons willing to train some of the former casteless as labourers, and had rebuilt Dust Town, settling it with labourers, military, and servants who needed accommodations.  She planned to populate much of the Aeducan Thaig with the former Casteless, who would be allowed to set up businesses and provide services to the few upper Caste families who chose to resettle there – for generous tax advantages, of course. 

 Gorim joined us, as he was no longer needed on the war council as a liaison, and would be returning to his family in Denerim.  He and Sereda exchanged some tortured glances, but he seemed almost relieved to be going home, once she’d left at least.

 Dariel came to visit as well, confirming he would be staying with Lanaya’s clan.  He and Mithra, his new bond-mate, had been acting as messengers between Lanaya and Cailan, but would be heading out to Ostagar with the rest of the clan.  He thanked us, again, for sparing his life in the ambush where we’d met, and for introducing him to his new clan.  He even shook my hand, despite his fear of templars, and I wished him well.  I knew Lanaya would help him with his magic and with proving himself to the clan.

 Bodahn, who’d evidently made a fortune selling supplies to the army over the previous few months camped in the Bannorn, was heading out – I knew he’d make it to Amaranthine and a boat to Kirkwall eventually. 

 “I hear the Free Marches will have lots of opportunities for a merchant such as myself, and my boy’s never been on a ship before,” he declared. 

 “Ocean, crossing the ocean,” Sandal sang to himself, using a small rune he held as a pretend boat floating over invisible waves.

 “The Waking Sea,” Bodahn corrected almost automatically.

 I sat down beside the simple dwarf boy, putting one hand on his shoulder gently.  “Sandal?  You know the runes that go boom?”

 “Boom!” he cried, smiling broadly.  “Enchantment!”

 I nodded.  “Exactly.  If you end up going into the Deep Roads, you keep some of those with you, you hear?”

 He grinned and pressed the rune he was holding into my hand.  On closer inspection, it was smoother and shinier than the usual runes we used; I wasn’t sure if it was just a pretty rock, or if Sandal had somehow enchanted it.  “Pretty lady.”

 I pocketed the stone, ruffling the boy’s hair and then giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.  I turned to Bodahn, giving him a quick hug and making him stutter with a kiss too.

 “You meet someone named Hawke, you stick with her, okay?”

 “My Lady?” 

 I was never sure how much Bodahn knew about me; he’d have been able to eavesdrop a few times over the year travelling together, I was sure, but he might have been too polite – and he was too clever to admit it in any case.  “You take care up there, okay?  I’ll miss you.”  And it was true; at the very least, Sandal’s enthusiasm and Bodahn’s unending optimism had been worth their weight in gold when things had been difficult during the Blight.

 Shale and Caridin were returning to Orzammar with Sereda and the dwarves; they planned another expedition into the Deep Roads to find inactivated golems, and then Caridin wanted to really begin his research into how to make the golems sentient like Shale.  And they wanted to go to Cadash Thaig, as well – evidently they’d never made it there before the final battle. 

 “Thank you, my Lady,” Caridin said after he’d said goodbye to Aedan.  He held his enormous stone hand out towards me, and I carefully laid my hand on his.  “Your foreknowledge has given me a new purpose, and a chance to atone for my terrible mistake.  I wish you well.”

 “You too, Caridin.  I hope you and Shale find what you’re looking for.”  I leaned in to whisper, “Take care of Shale for me, okay?  She may be made of stone, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be hurt.” 

 He nodded sagely, then turned and walked away without looking back.

 “I find myself wondering if I shall miss It and Its friends.” Shale approached me, and I turned to face her with a smile.  “It is, perhaps, less feeble than I believed when we met, which was a relief.”

 “Thanks, Shale.  I will miss you.  But you can come visit – Soldier’s Peak will be in much better shape before long – and I’ll probably end up in Orzammar at some point.  I’ll see you again, I’m sure of it.”

 “Tell the Silly Warden to take care of It, or I shall find him and squish him.”

 I giggled, hugged the golem – not that she’d have cared, I was sure, but it made me feel better – and watched her stomp away towards the dwarves.  _I actually will miss her, stubborn acerbic pain-in-the-ass that she is.  Huh._

 Teagan was going to Redcliffe to run things in his brother’s absence – Eamon was going back to Denerim to meet up with Isolde and Connor, and then I hoped Cailan would find something for him to do elsewhere.  I knew Teagan would be much better for Redcliffe than Eamon ever was.  The redhead came to bid us goodbye, and I spent a few minutes teasing him about Kaitlyn – until he showed me the ring he planned to give her.  “I like your Earth tradition,” he whispered as he put the ring away.  “Do you think…are you sure…”

 I rolled my eyes.  “She’s going to say yes.  Don’t be ridiculous.  I know you two will be very happy, Teagan.  And probably have lots and lots of babies!”

 He blushed, and I laughed.  He sat with us for the rest of the evening, laughing and carousing, and then he set out at dawn with the Redcliffe forces.

 We finally got underway for Denerim much later in the day than we planned.  I’d already discovered travelling with nobles was irritating, and though I’d blamed it entirely on Isolde before, it became obvious that pretty much the entire nobility was just as bad.  Some of them rode horses which had to be saddled for them, several insisted on carriages, and none of them were willing to wake a few minutes early so their things could be packed.  Many of them had carried ridiculous amounts of stuff – I saw two full-sized mattresses being loaded onto a cart, as an example – and no one wanted to carry or pack anything of their own.  The few servants were being run off their feet, so some of the soldiers were having to help out which made them cranky, and the whole thing was complete chaos.

 Aedan and Alistair decided the Wardens would scout ahead, and so we split into teams of two, slowly meandering through the wilderness of the Southern Bannorn, aiming for the main highway leading to Denerim.  A group of soldiers had been assigned to clear the way for the carts and carriages, cutting down inconvenient trees and creating a passable path, so we all kept an eye on them to ensure they weren’t accosted by any darkspawn stragglers or local wildlife.

 It had taken two weeks for us to get from Denerim to the Bannorn – travelling only with Wardens was a huge advantage – but it looked like it would probably take close to four to get back, between late starts and slow-moving carts.  Things went a little better on the highway, with the carts able to travel more efficiently than on uneven ground, but summer was almost upon us by the time we made it to the city.

 Denerim was still all but abandoned when we returned.  Messages had been sent out to those evacuated before the battle, but it took time for people to return, and the city was like a ghost town.  Walking through the market, only a handful of people – those too stubborn or too sick to leave – stared suspiciously at us, giving it a surreal feel.  The market stalls were vacant, some of them sagging, with torn awnings swaying in the slight breeze.  _The stalls look almost depressed, or…lonely.  Strange thought._

 The only redeeming feature of the creepy, empty streets was the smell; for once, Denerim didn’t smell like human waste and rotting corpses.  There was a lingering, unpleasant odour when the air stagnated, but the light wind kept it moving, and for once I wasn’t forced to breathe through my mouth to avoid nausea.

 We marched straight through the city, the fastest trip across I’ve ever made, to be sure, and finally arrived at the gates to the Palace.  There were a handful of servants with us, and another handful who’d either managed to return faster than the rest of the evacuated residents, or who had stayed put when everyone else left.  There weren’t going to be enough though – not for Cailan, and all the other nobles, never mind the wounded.  As a group, we watched the chaos as Cailan tried to organise the few servants they had to getting everyone settled; to avoid making it worse, we decided to take care of ourselves.  We helped ourselves to the rooms we’d held previously, putting away our things before meeting for a supper of leftover trail rations in the little dining room we’d used before. 

 Anders and Wynne excused themselves to help with setting up an infirmary, and after bidding everyone goodnight, I decided to have a long hot bath.  Grateful to Sereda for about the millionth time since leaving Orzammar, I filled the tub and slid in, submerging fully before almost falling asleep in the warmth.  I didn’t stir until Alistair joined me, and after spending far too much time ensuring we were completely, squeaky clean, we both collapsed onto the bed and fell straight asleep.

 We were all surprised to wake up and find elven servants bringing us breakfast and offering to run baths for anyone who needed them.  The confusion only lasted a few minutes, until Kallian arrived, and the elves all jumped to attention before rushing away breathlessly to start hauling water.

 “Kallian?”  Wulf stood immediately, staring at the beautiful elf with dark, uncertain eyes.

 Ignoring his obvious discomfort, or perhaps nervousness, she pulled the former werewolf into a hug, pressing her forehead against his sweetly, and the battle-hardened Grey Warden practically melted.

 “What are you doing here?  You’re supposed to be on a boat, or in the Free Marches.”  Wulf shook her slightly, and she chuckled.

 “What can I say?  I’ve never been good at following orders.”  Wulf growled, and she winced.  “Look, a bunch of families from the Alienage wouldn’t leave.  They were afraid being loaded onto carts and forced to leave together was an excuse to sell them to Tevinter or kill them outright.  So they stayed.  But there were looters, and then a fire, and they were in danger.  When I realised I couldn’t convince them all to go, I stayed too, and brought them here.  The guards recognised me and let us in.  There was food, beds, and plenty of places to hide if the darkspawn had come.  And together, we helped the guards keep the looters out of the Palace.

 “In return for being safe in the Palace, I convinced them that if I was right, and that the King wasn’t selling the rest of the elves or hurting them, they’d all help out here until the servants came back.”

 “You could have been killed!”  Wulf was squeezing her waist now, angry and worried and completely exasperated, and she kissed his cheek as she slipped out of his grasp somehow.

 “But I wasn’t.  I’m fine, Wulf.  And now we have people to help out until everyone gets back.”

 Leliana approached the elf, who looked much less haunted than she had when we’d left, and claimed a hug as well.  “Nicely done, Kallian.”  We all agreed, sending her smiles and nods of approval.

 “So anyway, I’m here to inform you that his Majesty would like to meet with the Warden Commanders and Lady Theirin at your earliest convenience.”

 Aedan and Alistair exchanged pouts, and I laughed.  “Come on, boys.  Let’s not keep the King waiting.”

 Kallian escorted us to another wing of the Palace, where the furniture had largely been moved out of two adjacent ballrooms, and instead pallets had been built for the wounded soldiers.  Cailan paced through the makeshift infirmary, calling out orders and stopping to hold a hand or wipe the brow of an injured person as he passed by.  Waving acknowledgement when he saw us, he spoke briefly to a couple of people who appeared to be more-or-less in charge, then rushed over to us.

 His skin was slightly sallow, dark circles ringed both of his eyes, and he was wearing the same clothes from the evening before.  His expression was one of grim determination overriding complete exhaustion, and Alistair and I exchanged worried glances before following him down a hallway to a nearby sitting room.

 He slumped into a chair, sighing heavily, and we all did the same as he gestured to chairs.  “Kallian?  Would you join us?”

 The elf, surprised, settled into a chair gracefully, and it was nice to see she didn’t appear nervous in a relatively small room with three human men.  We all turned our attention to the exhausted king.

 “Cailan?” I ventured.  “When was the last time you slept?”

 He twitched slightly, and I scowled – he was preparing to lie to me, and I wasn’t going to have any of that.  “The truth, if you please.”

 He sighed.  “On the road.  There’s been too much to do since we arrived.”

 “Cailan…”  Aedan’s tone was almost motherly, and I stifled the urge to giggle.

 “Tonight, okay?  I promise.  But that’s not why I asked you here, so could you all quit pretending to be my parents for a second or two?”

 I did laugh at that, and we all flushed slightly.  “Yes your Majesty,” I teased, and even Kallian giggled as Cailan stuck his tongue out at me.  “How may we assist the Crown?”

 “Alright, so…hear me out before you make a judgement, but…I want to burn down the Alienage.”

 


	117. Burn It

Chapter One Hundred Seventeen: Burn It

 

“Alright, so…hear me out before you make a judgement, but…I want to burn down the Alienage,” Cailan said.

 I choked – on what, I couldn’t say – and began coughing, while Alistair thumped me on the back.  Aedan sputtered, face turning an unusual shade of crimson, but Kallian merely raised one eyebrow inquiringly.

 Aedan finally managed to get out an entire sentence.  “I think you’re a lot more sleep-deprived than we thought, Cailan,” he ventured.

 “Or maybe you had a head injury you didn’t tell anyone about during the battle?” I wondered.

 Cailan rolled his eyes.  “I did ask you to hear me out before you judge,” he reminded us.

 Alistair waved his arm in a ‘go on’ sort of gesture, and Cailan nodded at him before turning to Kallian.

 “After Denerim was evacuated, it looks like there was a fire started in one of the homes in the Alienage.  It burnt a large number of houses, and damaged more.  No one was hurt, but it’s going to have to be rebuilt.  And it gave me an idea.

 “Look, I know it’s been your home, but the fact is, the Alienage is a mess.  It’s impossible to keep clean, the houses are falling down, plagues keep spreading there…no one should live like that.”

 “We’ve never exactly had much of a choice,” Kallian defended.

 Cailan threw up his arms excitedly.  “No, no, I’m not blaming you.  You’ve done the best you could with what you have.  But that’s the point, really.  You didn’t have much to work with, and then once people were living there, it was very difficult to do anything about it, even if someone had tried.  We couldn’t kick out dozens or hundreds of people while we renovated their homes, and doing it one building at a time was too expensive and time consuming, not to mention the nobility would not have approved the expenditure even if it were possible.”

 Cailan continued, breathless and enthusiastic, not allowing anyone else to get a word in edgewise, “That’s why this is the perfect opportunity.  The Alienage is empty, likely for a couple more weeks, and half of it is already destroyed.  There’s no one to displace.  We have a few trustworthy mages available to help us, and the nobility are busy doing other things.  If the rest of the Alienage burned while everyone was evacuated, they wouldn’t have to approve a motion to rebuild, because I have sole discretion over the budget during an emergency – and then we could do it right, without a fight.  Highever and Amaranthine won’t be ready for the stonemasons for a while yet, so those that came from Orzammar are going to be sitting on their thumbs anyway – and we’ve already paid for their services.  There’s a lot of old stone quarries around Denerim that could be reopened. 

 “We could build multi-story stone buildings, give each family more space, and still have room to spare.  We could expand the green space around the Vhenadahl, maybe build a school?  It wouldn’t even cost that much, especially if the returning residents helped with the construction.  The biggest problem will be housing people during the reconstruction, but fortunately it’s summer.  We could set up temporary camps outside the gates, allow hunting nearby to supplement food stores…we have the army to build camps like we did in the Bannorn.  As long as we can keep any rain off, it shouldn’t be unbearable until the first buildings are ready, and then people can crowd in and share until everything is finished.

 “It gives us an excuse to arm the elves – they need to protect themselves while living outside of the city, and to hunt.  It allows us to improve the Alienage, and even employ some of the elves temporarily as labourers during the building.”

 He finally stopped, gulping breaths of air rather comically at the end of his hurried speech.  He glanced back and forth between Aedan and Kallian, expecting – correctly – that the two of them would have the strongest opinions on the subject. 

 I didn’t know what to think.  In some ways it made sense – the Alienage really was a travesty, and burning it to the ground seemed like one of the few ways to recover it, especially if it was as badly damaged as Cailan said – but where would all those people live during the construction?  It would take a lot of time to build as much as he was suggesting, and the evacuees were expected back within weeks at the most.  I was also concerned about the likelihood of backlash in the Landsmeet; most nobles’ opinions on the city elves seemed to consist of a ‘survival of the fittest’ mentality.  I doubted there was any money left in the Arl of Denerim’s estate to cover it either, though it should have been the Arl’s responsibility – _if only there was an Arl of Denerim right now – and not Vaughn or Howe, either._

 Aedan shared my concern about the cost, and he and Cailan immediately began debating the viability of the plan from that perspective.  Kallian was surprisingly quiet.  I expected her to be either enthusiastic at the prospect of making the Alienage livable, or angry at the idea of burning down the rest of her former home, but she just kept her gaze fixed firmly in her lap while Cailan and Aedan brain-stormed the funding aspect.  I was barely listening, mind awhirl with possibilities and risks, but it sounded like Aedan thought it was possible.

 Finally, when Kallian still hadn’t said anything, Cailan addressed her directly.  “What do you think?”

 She looked up at him, tilting her head slightly.  “I think nicer houses won’t fix the biggest problem Ferelden – and the rest of Thedas – faces with elves.”  Cailan’s face fell, and she held up a hand.  “Don’t get me wrong – it would be nice not to worry that the next stiff breeze will blow down someone’s home, and to have somewhere for the homeless to go, but without jobs, and income, and the ability to defend ourselves from those who would do us harm, it’ll be just a differently-decorated slum.  When most humans see us as less worthy of respect than the rodents we end up eating, why bother putting us in prettier houses?”

 Cailan looked crestfallen.  “I want to improve the elves’ lives.  I want you to have safe places to sleep and not risk frostbite all winter.  I want you to be seen as citizens.  It’s not going to happen overnight, Maker knows, but can’t we at least try?  I will do my best to change our culture, a little at a time, but this might be our only opportunity to really address the housing situation.  Once everyone is back, as it stands, most of the elves will be homeless, and I think we all know the nobility as a rule will leave them to fend for themselves.”

 Kallian examined Cailan’s earnest face for a long silent moment, and I could almost see the wheels spinning.  _I wonder what she’s looking for._   Finally she nodded.  “If you can manage the details – housing for my people during the renovations, funds for the construction – then I agree, and I will help you.  Most people have taken their few valuables with them out of the Alienage, so it’s as good a time as we’re likely to get.”

 Aedan nodded agreement, and Cailan turned to Alistair and I, sitting together, stunned.  “Yes?” he asked.  “I’d like as much support as I can get.”

 Alistair squeezed my hand once, and it knocked me out of my reverie.  “Yes, of course.  If you think it can be done, we’re behind you.”

 Aedan interjected, “Send messengers to Nathaniel and Fergus – I know they’ll back you too.  Highever has always been better about elven rights, and Nathaniel’s no racist.  I bet Leonas and Alfstanna would too – and the more obvious support you have, the less backlash.  Lots of the nobility have gone home, but send messengers, and I’m sure at least some will agree.”

 “Right.”  Cailan ran his hand through his hair, rubbing his scalp thoughtfully.  “If we’re going to do this, it’s got to be now – as soon as possible.  We need the mages to burn the rest of the Alienage right away, before anyone thinks to look at the extent of the damage.  I ‘borrowed’ a handful of mages from the Circle – in addition to the healers – to supplement the army and eventually reinforce Amaranthine, and there’s three I think would help us and keep their mouths shut.  Do you suppose any of the Warden mages would help?”

 I nodded.  “I’ll go ask, but I wouldn’t be surprised.  I’ll be right back.”

 “Meet us by the east gate, instead – we’ll try to avoid too much notice, yes?” Cailan suggested.

 I ran back to where our group had set up, finding Alim and Anders playing chess in the small dining room we’d borrowed.  Solona was in her room – a room she was sharing with Anders, I was pleased to note – and quickly joined us when I called her.  I avoided asking Wynne – who was probably too busy healing anyway – guessing that she’d be less than approving of our plan.  _Which should probably make me second guess the wisdom of the plan, but…Nah.  It’s got to be done._

 I explained the plan in hurried whispers as we headed to the east gate; all three mages were more than happy to lend their aid to the cause.

 “I’m not much good with fire,” Anders declared, while I shushed him, looking around to see who could be listening.  “I’m pretty good with ice, though, so I can help keep the fire from raging out of control,” he whispered.

 “Protect the Vhenadahl at all costs,” I suggested.  Alim nodded, but Anders just looked at me in confusion.  “The big tree,” I elaborated, and he nodded.  “The walls should keep the fire from spreading to the rest of the city.”

 When we met up with Cailan, Aedan, Alistair, and Kallian, the four had three unfamiliar, elven mages with them, as well as Zevran, of course, and Wulf, who nodded at me when I arrived, but stayed firmly behind Kallian like a shadow.  A number of soldiers also joined us, armed and armoured, though not wearing royal livery.  The group of us left through the side gate, walking quickly but quietly across the city and through a large gate to the Alienage.

 I stopped, shocked at the destruction the initial fire had caused; where Kallian’s father’s home had been, across a large square from the Vhenadahl, there was now nothing but a burnt out shell filled with rubble and mud.  The fire had originated in the larger building next door, a run-down two-story affair that had barely looked inhabitable at the best of times, but it was now burned to the ground.  All of the buildings around it – mostly dilapidated shacks – were damaged, and the fire had clearly spread across the roofs to the next few rows of houses as well.  Several buildings were open to the sky, spears of charred wood no longer holding anything up standing all around.

 It was depressing, but while I felt sad and slightly ill, Kallian looked remarkably unaffected, and then I remembered she’d already been to the Alienage to bring those who’d refused to evacuate to the Palace.

 “It’s a miracle no one was hurt,” Alistair breathed, wrapping his arm around my waist as I stared somberly at the wreckage.

 I was jolted from my shock when Cailan called out orders softly.  “Spread out, search every remaining building – I don’t want any accidental deaths or injuries.”

 We all nodded and went to work, Alistair and some of the soldiers breaking down locked doors while Aedan, Wulf, and Zevran picked locks; Kallian and I followed and checked inside once the doors were open.  It was horrifying, actually, violently breaking in to what was someone’s home – especially seeing the pathetic state of many of those houses.  They were barren, as I would expect of an area that had been evacuated, but more than that it was obvious even so the abject squalor many of the elves lived in.  There were homes that Kallian said housed six or eight people, but with only one, lumpy straw mattress surrounded by spaces where people had slept huddled on scrounged wooden planks or other makeshift pallets.  Most had one or two chairs, at most, and many had no other furniture at all. 

 There were odd, abandoned belongings that, without words, Kallian and I began gathering up as we went, making a pile on a scavenged wooden slab: small stuffed animals and dolls, hand-carved toys, wooden and ceramic plant pots, articles of clothing, and other small keepsakes were all saved and put aside, and I hoped Kallian would be able to find their owners once everyone returned.

 We didn’t find anyone living there.  Even squatters had found better places to stay, I supposed; the thought made me even sadder.  Cailan looked horrified, and I wondered if it was his first time in the Alienage.  Once the entire area was cleared, those of us without magic gathered near the Vhenadahl while the mages planned strategy.  My spine tingled as Anders and two of the others started casting, laying down a thick layer of ice on the ground surrounding the tree, spreading it to the nearest walls facing onto the green space.  Once that was done, Anders planted himself in front of the group of us as the other mages spread out throughout the Alienage.

 The plan was to set small fires, and then use magic to encourage them to spread, rather than just blasting the entire place with magical flames; I held my breath as I felt the spells that started the fires.  It didn’t take long before there was smoke pouring out of the buildings the mages occupied, and soon the mages themselves were standing outside, arms spread, spells periodically magnifying the heat or containing the blaze to prevent it from burning out of control.  As the flames crept nearer the Vhenadahl, Anders went to work with controlled blasts of ice, keeping the heat from rolling over those of us standing nearby.

 In the end it took a couple of hours for the mages to drive the fires to all corners of the Alienage, scorching some of the surrounding stone walls for appearance’s sake.  As an observer, it was a frightening thing to see at times, with flames leaping from building to building and smoke pouring into the sky; evening fell, and it looked even more impressive, lighting up the night sky.  As we finished, a large group of soldiers, following Eamon and a couple of other nobles I didn’t recognise, showed up carrying axes and buckets – obviously planning to fight the flames – but by the time they’d arrived, the fires were all but out.

 Eamon sputtered as he approached.  “Your Majesty!  What are you doing here?”

 Cailan turned calmly towards the older man.  “We had reports of a fire, so I grabbed the nearest mages and brought them here to combat it.  Thanks to these Wardens, and mages on loan from the Circle, the fires have been put out – but I’m afraid most of the Alienage is unsalvageable.”

 I had to hide my smile at Cailan’s blatant lie, and I noticed several of the soldiers and mages suppressing smirks as well.  Eamon began loudly bemoaning the destruction, and when the last of the mages gave us the nod, Cailan put his arm across the Arl’s shoulders, ushering the man back towards the Palace, with us, the mages, and the soldiers following behind.

 “Uncle,” I heard Cailan say, “I had no idea you were so sensitive to the needs of city elves.  I have an idea – what if I put you in charge of the reclamation and rebuilding?  I’ve got a budget in mind…”

 I almost giggled at poor Eamon’s surprised, reluctant agreement as the two began discussing stone work and unskilled labour as Cailan cleverly implied (without promising anything) that if Eamon performed well enough, he might be considered for the vaunted Royal Chancellor position I knew he’d been aiming for from the start.

 The soldiers and mages returned to their quarters, but Kallian followed us back to our common area, laughing with us as we talked about poor Eamon’s new role.  I wondered how he’d react to working side-by-side with Kallian during planning and construction.

 *****

For the next several weeks there was a flurry of activity around the Palace.  Cailan had the stonemasons, some of the nobles, Kallian, and Eamon in meetings, drawing up plans for the reconstruction, and had tasked some of the army with building temporary housing for the elves outside of the gates of Denerim.  They erected the wooden platforms the army had used to keep water and mud out of the tents, and built a few communal, covered wooden structures for cooking and dining.  Some of the scouts were sent hunting, hoping to provide food not only for the elves, but for the returning peasants until the harvest could be brought in and the markets returned to normal. 

 Some of the soldiers had been miners or farmers before joining the battle, and those that could be spared were sent to help bring in harvest and re-open the stone quarries near Denerim, and stone blocks began slowly moving into the city for the construction.  There wasn’t much for the Wardens to do in Denerim, once all the returning soldiers had been declared free of the taint, so Aedan organised patrols for the roads between the quarries and the city to protect the caravans of stone.

 Evacuees began slowly filtering back into the city; the families and staff of many of the nobles had been sent by boat to the Free Marches, and they were some of the first to return – including Isolde and Connor.  Commoners and elves started to return, and it wasn’t long before the market district was again full of loud, boisterous activity.

 Food was at a premium, but between the harvest coming in from nearby farmlands and the smoked meat brought in by the army, no one went hungry, though soldiers had to guard the carts that distributed the supplies to anxious residents to ensure everyone got only their fair share.  There was grumbling when people realised elves were being fed exactly the same as the humans, but when the extent of the damage to the Alienage became obvious, most of the complaining was silenced.

 It was going to be a lean winter, I knew, but with the extreme organization that Cailan had instituted, not to mention the messages being sent around Thedas hoping for disaster relief or at least favourable trade agreements, I had hope that Denerim would come out of the Blight relatively unscathed.

 It became obvious, before long, that a fairly large number of the urban population had settled in the Free Marches, or wherever they had fled when Denerim was evacuated, and once it was clear that certain businesses would not reopen, Cailan cautiously gave permission for some of the elves to open booths in the market.  They sold clothing, baskets, crafts, and whatever else they could make from what raw materials they could find or buy; there were those who refused to purchase items from the ‘knife-ears’, but it was reasonably well-received when it became clear that it would keep the prices low for necessary items.

 As the camp outside the gate filled with elves, Kallian began working with some of the soldiers to teach a few of the elves basic combat techniques and hunting; a small militia was formed, with the goal of defending the camp from wildlife, bandits and the like, and they aided the guards with patrolling around the camp.  Tensions flared at first, but began to relax as armed elves did not attack the human guards tasked with teaching or defending them, and the groups started working together.

 I heard Anora had returned to the city, under guard; I didn’t see her, and Cailan seemed to be doing well keeping her out of his thoughts.  I didn’t want to bring her up, not when he was doing so well, so I kept my curiosity to myself.  _I’ll find out eventually, anyway._

 During all of this activity, the Wardens remaining in Denerim and I ended up extremely bored.  We couldn’t go anywhere until the delegation from Weisshaupt arrived, and the celebration of the end of the Blight took place – Cailan had planned it to coincide with All Soul’s Day, a summer holiday celebration that would happen in a little under two months.  _There’s only so much training even the Wardens can do._

 Aedan received a letter from Fergus, saying they had taken back Castle Cousland without any difficulty, and that Nathaniel had tracked down Thomas Howe in some brothel in Highever – named the Dewy Petal, of all the ridiculous things – high out of his mind on opium.  _I didn’t even know opium was a thing, in Thedas.  Huh._   Apparently Thomas had left the castle after news of his father’s death and loss of titles had reached him, and after he assaultied a prostitute, some enterprising madam had hooked him on the addictive opium as a way of keeping him less aggressive.  Nathaniel was going to take Thomas to Amaranthine and see what he was like once the drug withdrawal was over; Fergus had begun the recovery process in Highever, but promised to be in Denerim for the celebration.

 At first it was nice, having nothing to do; Alistair and I spent days in bed together, barely rising to talk to our friends, see the returning patrols, and spend time with my brother – we made love, talked about our future, and caught up on a year’s worth of missed sleep.  But eventually we were well-rested, well-loved, and though our nights would remain passionate for the foreseeable future, we were looking for other things to do. 

 I began working with Kallian, trying to think of what things would be needed in the Alienage before the building was completed; Aedan, Alistair, and the other Wardens still in Denerim began working with the Palace Guards, the City Guards, the new elven militia, and the remaining soldiers who needed combat training.

 Plans for the Alienage were coming along; there were going to be more than enough apartment-style homes for all of the elves, with plenty extra left over for population growth, and Cailan had agreed to allow some official stores to open, instead of the unofficial, illegal ones that had existed before.  One large building was going to be used as a school, a meeting place, and chapel for Chantry services; Mother Boann had somehow gotten clearance to begin holding services weekly, and hoped that between the Chantry and my donation, she’d be able to begin teaching the children reading, writing, and numbers once the Alienage was restored.

 Building began within three weeks, and with many of the returning elves helping out as unskilled labour, and the dwarven stone masons – who didn’t discriminate against ‘knife ears’ – plus surplus army soldiers with some experience, construction wasn’t going to take long.  Cailan heard from Nathaniel, who’d arrived in Amaranthine unscathed, and he promised to send the stonemasons to the Vigil as soon as they could be spared in Denerim.

 I received my first messages from Soldier’s Peak; Levi reported that some parts of the fortress had been ‘satisfactorily’ reclaimed, whatever that meant, and that Avernus had not caused any problems.  He confirmed he had more than enough coin to continue cleaning up and furnishing the rooms, and he had hired some maids, cooks, and other staff to assist and make the place livable once we moved in.  Faren had scrawled a quick note praising the soldiers that had been assigned there; apparently there had been a few more undead rise periodically, and they had fared well defeating them.  Jowan added that he’d been helping Avernus as he was able, and hadn’t seen any sign of worrisome blood magic or shady research.

 By the time the Weisshaupt delegation arrived in Denerim – by boat from Cumberland – seven weeks after we arrived in the city, the temporary camps outside the city gates had been abandoned, half of the planned housing had been built, and the elves had retained their rights to carry arms within the Alienage – and join the city guard.  To my surprise, Eamon had worked exceptionally well with Kallian, and even seemed to hold a grudging respect for the petite brunette, who combined common sense and a desire for equality for her people in a way that impressed everyone, no matter how much above her in station they were.  And the dwarves had left for Amaranthine, satisfied that the Alienage would be finished appropriately without their help.  Most of the army, which had not been officially disbanded, were also sent to Amaranthine, to defend against the eventual darkspawn attack I knew would come.

 The group from Weisshaupt included six Wardens, more than I expected to travel all the way to Ferelden; out of sheer paranoia, Aedan and Alistair kept me well away from them at all times, and as such I didn’t even know what they looked like.  Cailan, Aedan, Alistair, and Riordan met the group at the docks once word of their arrival reached us, and they came to the Palace, immediately sequestering themselves in meetings.

 In bed, late that night after not seeing my husband for almost the entire day, Alistair told me that so far there had just been a lot of bluster, the representatives angry that Duncan had broken them away, but it seemed we were right – there wasn’t much they could do about it.  They had raised several concerns, none of which worried Aedan or Alistair much.

 They implied that there were secrets of the Order that they were unaware of, and Aedan’s response was that, if Duncan, in the middle of a Blight, hadn’t needed to know, we didn’t need to either. 

 They had asked whether Aedan and Alistair had really been the leaders, assuming that Duncan and Riordan had done everything, but everyone had insisted that the two current Warden-Commanders had been the ones to collect most of the treaties, and had worked with Lanaya, Greagoir, Irving, and Sereda to sign new ones.

 They tried implying Aedan and Alistair were too young, too green for command, but Cailan and Riordan both backed them up, and when asked which of the delegates had experience in gathering an army to combat the Blight or in fighting an Archdemon, the silence was response enough.  They might have been young, but my husband and brother were probably the most experienced Wardens in Thedas.

 The delegates were expected to stay for several more days, and I promised Alistair to stay away, continuing my work with Kallian and Eamon, until they were gone.  Eamon seemed much happier with Isolde and Connor back; I didn’t see the Arlessa or their son much, but their impact on Eamon’s state of mind was huge.  He was almost polite, even to me.  The problem for me was there wasn’t much left to do.  The plans had been finalised, the construction almost complete, and Kallian was spending her days in the Alienage organising the work and supervising the construction itself.  And all the strange Wardens around had my skin itching from the taint, and it took far too much concentration to ignore the sensation.  Somehow it bothered me less when I knew the Wardens responsible.

 So I found myself wandering the Palace halls, admiring the tapestries, getting lost and having to work my way back, until I found myself in a library I hadn’t known existed.  It was dusty, obviously long-unused, a large chamber with enormous bay windows covered by thick curtains.  I opened the drapes, but despite that, only weak light shone through the dirty windows; it was enough that I didn’t need to light a lantern, and I spent a while browsing titles.  Most of them were familiar – histories of Thedas, treatises on the evils of the Tevinter Imperium, old political dissertations.  Many of the same books graced the shelves in Redcliffe’s library, and I imagined most of the castles around Ferelden would be similar. 

 There was one section full of fiction, which I perused with more interest; I blushed and quickly put back one book I picked up, titled “Antivan Nights”; I had thought it might be a Thedosian “Arabian Nights”, but the salacious images I accidentally flipped past had me stuttering at my silly mistake.  I was looking for something less racy when I heard footsteps, and an unfamiliar head poked through the door into the dusty room.

 “Hello,” I called out.

 A dark-haired, slender elf in an immaculate uniform stepped hesitantly into the room.  “I apologise, your Highness.  I don’t mean to disturb you.”

 “It’s no problem.  I’m surprised to see anyone else in this ridiculously dusty library, I admit, but it’s no bother.  And please, call me Sierra.”

 The elf took a few more steps inside, seemingly encouraged by my lack of angry outburst.  “The Lady Anora requested something to read.  She didn’t give me a particular title, though, so I’m somewhat anxious about choosing a book.”  He wrung his hands together nervously.

 “Well, let me see.  She’s probably read all of those before,” I gestured at the two walls covered in histories and politics.  “How about we grab a couple of these story books, one thick dry political history, and…here.”  I picked up “Antivan Nights” and set it on the pile.  “Be sure to let her know I chose this one for her.  Tell her you chose the rest, but don’t take credit for this one, okay?”

 The elf nodded vigourously, clearly still nervous.  “Of course, my Lady.”  I winced at the honourific, but at least it wasn’t ‘your Highness’.  “Thank you.  I’ll just take these to her right away.”

 I was still giggling at my own prank when someone else slowly approached, and I turned to see who else was joining me in the room that probably hadn’t seen so much activity in years.  “Who’s there?”

 A thin, red-headed man, another elf, stepped through the door, and smiled awkwardly.  He had long hair held back by a simple leather thong, and was wearing a wrinkled pair of trousers and a brown, loose tunic.  He had a smooth, well-healed scar from the corner of his lips down to his chin, which slightly distorted his mouth when he spoke.

 “Pardon me, m’Lady.  Just looking for something to read.”  His accent was different, something I didn’t recognise.  I wondered if he was one of the elves Kallian had hired from the Alienage to help out until everything at the Palace had settled down.  _Perhaps his scar affects his voice too?_   He clearly didn’t recognise me, and it was a bit of a relief.

 “No problem; help yourself.”  I gestured at the shelves, and he stepped inside softly.

 “Find something to read for yourself?”

 “Oh, I wasn’t even looking that hard.  I’m just bored, but reading Thedosian history or some naughty romance novel doesn’t appeal to me.”

 He ignored the comment about the erotica, and raised an eyebrow at me.  “Bored?”

 “Well, my husband and my brother and all our friends are busy, but I’m not supposed to leave the Palace…so yeah, bored.”

 “Your husband?”

 I was distracted by sneezing, having stirred up some dust as I flipped through a children’s short story collection.  “Hmm?  Oh, yes.  Sorry.  I’m Sierra Theirin – my husband is Alistair Theirin.”

 “Oh, your Highness, I apologise…”

 I waved my hand dismissively.  “Please, just Sierra.  It’s fine, really.  What sort of book are you looking for?”

 We chatted for a few minutes about the pros and cons of Brother Genitivi’s writing, which I hadn’t actually read, but having met the man I felt like he’d be a pretty decent writer. 

 “You’ve met Brother Genitivi?”

 “Well, yes, in Haven with the Wardens…he was captured by a dragon cult and my husband and brother rescued him…”

 “Sierra?  Love?”  Alistair’s voice, faint but audible, drifted in from outside. 

 I stopped and stepped to the door, poking my head out to see my husband and brother come around a corner next to the library.  “Here!  I’m just looking at some books, and talking to…”  I turned back to the elf, whose face looked slightly flushed for some reason.  “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

 The elf opened his mouth to reply, just as Aedan gasped and Alistair interrupted.  “Warden Constable Torpin.” 

 


	118. Identity Crisis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late entry - was out of town for Thanksgiving weekend with friends. Happy Thanksgiving to all the Canadians out there - and to everyone else, even if you don't celebrate or pick the weirdest time to celebrate Thanksgiving :)

Chapter One Hundred Eighteen: Identity Crisis

 

“Sierra?  Love?”  Alistair’s voice, faint but audible, drifted in from outside the library where I’d been loitering all afternoon. 

 I stopped and stepped to the door, poking my head out to see my husband and brother come around a corner next to the library.  “Here!  I’m just looking at some books, and talking to…”  I turned back to the elf, whose face looked slightly flushed for some reason.  “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

 The elf opened his mouth to reply, just as Aedan gasped and Alistair interrupted.  “Warden Constable Torpin.”

 I felt Alistair’s hands settle at my waist from behind possessively.

 I gaped.  It hadn’t occurred to me to ask who the elf was, and with my unconscious, stupid human bias, it never occurred to me that an unimposing-looking elf would be anything other than a servant.  _Stupid, stupid, stupid, Sierra._   Once I thought about it, I could feel the taint radiating off of the elf; I’d been working so hard at ignoring the feeling since the Weisshaupt delegates had arrived that I hadn’t noticed. 

 I spent a few seconds rethinking our conversation, trying to remember if I’d said anything to the man that I shouldn’t have.  He had probably figured out that something was strange – I realised that much of what we’d discussed made little sense, now that I thought about it.  An elf from the Alienage would likely be completely illiterate, never mind having read Genitivi’s histories.  And he wasn’t as servile as the other city elves I’d met – I was so happy not to be seen as intimidating that I hadn’t noticed.  He either thought I was an idiot, or he had figured out there was more going on with me than with some typical Thedosian noblewoman.  I slapped myself on the forehead.

 “You knew exactly who I was.  You came looking for me.”

 Torpin flushed again and nodded.  “We were curious about you.  It’s…unusual for Wardens to be married, more so for them to travel with their non-Warden spouses.  We suspect you know far more about the Order than a non-Warden should.  And the fact that they were so adamant against bringing you to the meetings made us wonder what they were hiding.”

 Aedan stepped forward, face red with fury, as Alistair pulled me behind him protectively.  “Listen to me, Warden-Constable.  I’ll say this precisely one time.  My sister has been through enough.  And she is not a Warden – even if we were still part of your Order, she is not.  You have no authority here.  Speak to her again, try to reach her in any way, and I will send you back to Weisshaupt in a box.”

 Aedan and Alistair shared a quick glance, and then with a nod, Alistair turned, wrapping his arm around my waist, and practically dragged me out of the library, leaving Aedan alone with the Weisshaupt Warden.  I could hear the elf objecting as I was ushered away, but Aedan’s clipped response was too quiet to make out.

 Alistair didn’t speak the entire way back to our room, and I just accompanied him meekly, wondering how much trouble I was in.  I had to admit that not finding out who the elf was before chatting with him was rather stupid, but I didn’t think I’d said anything that would betray my excessive knowledge of Grey Warden secrets, or anything about myself he wasn’t supposed to know. 

 Once we got to our room, Alistair ushered me through the door, and I dejectedly walked inside a few steps.  I heard Alistair lock the door behind us, and I sighed and reluctantly turned around.

 He surprised me, then, by pulling me into a tight hug, burying his face in my hair and squeezing me to him like I would disappear.

 “Are you alright?”

 I snuggled into his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his waist.  Not for comfort, but just because I enjoyed the intimacy.  “I’m fine, Alistair.  Nothing happened.  I didn’t even know I had a problem until you showed up!  I’m glad you found me before I said anything stupid.”

 “You wouldn’t have.”  He released me and climbed onto the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard.  He patted the spot next to him, and I cuddled up beside him again.  “Will you tell me what you did talk about?”

 Trying to explain my insanely silly brain fart was extremely embarrassing.  After I went through the conversation, as far as I could remember, I tried anxiously to justify myself. 

 He chuckled teasingly.  “So you had a conversation about history books and Chantry scholars, with an unknown elf you somehow assumed was a servant – despite not acting or dressing like a servant, and being far too well educated.”

 “I was distracted!  I was too busy being impressed with myself for my prank on Anora.  I think he was listening to my conversation with that elf, and knew he could get away with acting less formal with me.  And why should I have to demand the name of every person I talk to anyway?  How was I supposed to know I’d be ambushed by a Warden?  You never told me their leader was an elf…”

 I rambled to a stop as Alistair placed a finger over my lips with an amused smile.  “I’m not angry – at least, not at you.  It is sort of funny, though.”  I groaned, and he laughed.  “What’s all this about a prank on Anora?”

 I told him about the selection of books I helped the actual elven servant to choose, and he laughed at my helpless giggles as I related sending the sex book to Anora.  “That’s cruel!”  He pulled me into his lap for a kiss, and my laughter quickly changed to moaning as his lips attacked my sensitive ear. 

 His voice changed, too, dropping into that husky, sexy timbre he reserved for me alone.  “Do you suppose she’s done with that book?”

 I gasped as his lips trailed down my neck, tilting my head to give him better access.  “I…I don’t know, but there were more like that, where it came from,” I whispered.  “I could go get one…”

 “Maybe tomorrow, if you’re not too exhausted from what I plan to do to you tonight.”  He shifted me to lay on my back on the bed, looming over me with a predatory smile, and I gulped.

 “Bring it on, then.”

 No one saw us for the rest of the night.

 ***

Apparently after we’d left, the Weisshaupt contingent insisted on holding a meeting with the rest of Ferelden’s Grey Wardens.  They painted a bleak picture of being Wardens without the support of the order, and demanded that all of them leave Ferelden and report to another Grey Warden outpost – either in Orlais, Nevarra, the Free Marches, or Weisshaupt itself.  All of our people declined, with the exception of Riordan, Dougal, and Loghain, who were instructed to report to Jader immediately.  Riordan agreed to leave as soon as the celebration in Denerim was over – but they had to detour to Nevarra with Anora first.  _I bet Weisshaupt is none-too-pleased about that!_

 The Weisshaupt Wardens were gone the next day; Aedan refused to tell us what had transpired between him and Torpin after Alistair and I left, but my brother was tense and irritable for several days afterwards.  Even Zevran had trouble pulling him out of his foul mood, and we all tiptoed around him until Fergus arrived in the capital.  I avoided Fergus, not wanting to put a damper on Aedan’s renewed good humour by fighting with my liege lord, so I barely saw either Cousland before All Soul’s Day.

 Sten left the day after that.  With his Grey Warden status and some coin gifted to him by Aedan, he managed to purchase passage to Rivain on a merchant ship heading to Dairsmuid; from there it was a mere week’s walk to Kont-aar, the last Qunari stronghold on mainland Thedas.  Rivain was largely peaceful, even with the Qunari presence, so he was at minimal risk.

 He declined anyone walking him to the docks; I knew he would want to avoid emotional displays, and so we bid him farewell at the palace and let him go.  I managed to finagle myself one last hug, plastering myself against his stony chest; to my shock, he patted my shoulder awkwardly instead of standing stiffly uncomfortable like normal.  _I’m actually going to miss him too…huh._   It was strange to think that a Qunari had become a part of my family, but that’s what had happened.

 I presented him with a large bag of cookies, as he left, as well as a card with a recipe for one of his favourites – oatmeal with raisins.  _The big softie really does have a sweet tooth._   With a nod, he left us and headed to the docks.

 I wondered what would happen to him when he got back to Seheron, and if we’d ever see him again.  He’d signed an agreement with Aedan for mutual aid against the Blight, choosing to ally himself with us instead of Weisshaupt; Aedan had supplied him with enough Archdemon blood to recruit and keep a small number of Wardens in Seheron for a century, and a recipe for the Joining potion.  _I hope Qunari Grey Wardens aren’t something Thedas comes to fear, down the road…_

 Riordan had been excessively quiet since the battle had been won, and I finally cornered him after the Weisshaupt group left, convincing him to take a walk with me in the palace’s gardens.  He looked gaunt, tired, even despite all the time we’d had to rest since returning to Denerim.

 “How are you holding up?” he asked, before I had a chance to say anything.

 I was touched by his concern, especially in light of his own significant issues.  “I’m okay.  I’m still mourning, I suppose, but I’m trying not to feel guilty about how Duncan died.  I miss him, Riordan.”

 He sighed.  “As do I.  You should not feel guilty, Sierra.  Knowing what he would be facing, had he survived…well, I think I envy him, to be honest.”

 I touched Riordan’s arm, shocked and saddened.  “Riordan…”

 “I was not meant to survive the battle.  You said so yourself.  Now, instead of a death that means something, trying to end the Blight, I will be forced to take my Calling and go alone into the Deep Roads.  Once I take Anora to Nevarra and return to Jader with Loghain, I will be leaving for Orzammar almost immediately.  My sanity will not last much longer, I am afraid.  For some reason I fared better than Duncan, but I do not have long.”

 “Why don’t you let Dougal take Anora and Loghain, at least?  Spend the last of your time travelling, or with friends, or something.  Stay here, if you like.  Maybe Avernus could help you?”  I fought back the tears at the idea of losing a connection to Duncan, not to mention the idea of him dying alone in those dank, tainted tunnels underground.

 He shook his head sadly.  “My entire adult life has been about duty, Sierra; I will not shirk it now.  Besides, I’d like to go back to Jader anyway.  I wish to say goodbye to my brothers and sisters, before my Calling.  And as much as I understand Duncan’s choice to separate from Weisshaupt…I wish my name to be recorded in the archives, alongside all of the others who have come before me.  I don’t disapprove of the split, but I am a Grey Warden, not a Fereldan Grey Warden.

 “No, I look forward to going home, and the side-trip to Nevarra shouldn’t be much of a hardship.  Though I do wish the king would tell us where in Nevarra we’re going…”

 “You don’t know?  He’d better tell you soon – you’ll be leaving in a week!”

 “Perhaps he’s having second thoughts?”

 “About putting her aside?  I doubt it.  She well and truly screwed herself on that one.  If she’d respected his ‘memory’ at all in Denerim before the Landsmeet…if she hadn’t betrayed us, I think he could have forgiven her.  But no, I imagine the hold-up is not wanting his enemies to know where she’ll be.”

 Riordan smiled, looking exhausted despite his brief amusement.

 “Are you going to be okay?”  I reached out and touched his arm softly, and he patted my hand.

 “I will.  The nightmares are less since the Archdemon’s death.  It won’t be long now.  I’ll be fine.”

 Nodding, throat constricted around all the things I didn’t know how to say, I hugged him briefly and then walked away in search of my husband, hoping for a distraction.

 All of the Wardens near Denerim had been recalled from their patrols for the celebration on All Soul’s Day. Several of the elves who’d stayed in the Palace during the evacuation had been hired as servants, and Cailan had them cleaning our armour, and washing and repairing tabards; he even brought in some apparently famous hair stylist, who Leliana had recommended, to do touch-ups on everyone’s hair.  By the day before the celebration, we were all outfitted appropriately, and acceptably groomed, ready for the festivities.

 Like the Wardens, I was permitted to wear armour for the ceremony – Aedan was paranoid about the possibility of assassination attempts, so we were all fully armed as well – and I proudly donned my Grey Warden ‘companion’ tabard over my set of green leather.  Alistair’s dragon bone shone in the sun, and the rest of our group also looked good.  Loghain insisted on being left behind; I had barely seen or spoken to the taciturn Warden since we’d arrived in Denerim, and I wondered if he’d spent all his time commiserating with Anora.  He maintained that he’d be a distraction – either hated by those who’d opposed him, or lauded by those who’d benefitted from him – and it would take the focus away from the purpose of the day.  _He’s probably not wrong._

 A parade was to be the start of the celebration, and we all gathered anxiously at the palace gates.  Several carts were brought out; they’d been decorated with flowers and fabric to look festive, and we were divided among three of them.  Cailan’s went first, of course, surrounded by loyal guard members; Fergus, Nathaniel, Leonas Bryland, and Eamon, among others, sat behind him.  We came next, Riordan, Alistair and I joining Aedan and Zevran on the first, the rest of our group divided between the other two as they wished.  Several of the Circle mages sat with the Wardens.  The rest of the nobility who’d been in the battle followed us on a few more carts, and a large number of soldiers brought up the rear.

 We had to wait a few minutes until Kylon – who’d been promoted to the head of Denerim’s Guard – was happy with the security detail, and then we were travelling through Denerim.  There were crowds on the streets, pressed up against the walls to allow the parade to go by; people screamed and cheered, throwing paper flowers and waving madly, and we all got into the spirit of the thing, waving back.    Cailan had bags of coppers and wrapped candies to throw to the children – the larger proportion of which ended up in the Alienage, I noted – and it was fun watching the little ones scramble to grab the treasures.

 The parade wended through the noble’s district, out to the docks, through the Alienage, and down to the market, ending up outside the city gates.  The remains of the elves’ tent city had been dismantled, and a large field near the city gates had been cleared.  There were pavilions set up offering food for free; the scouts Cailan had sent out hunting had obviously been working hard, because there was wild boar, bronto, deer, sheep, and several other animals I didn’t care to look at too closely roasting over several large spits.  There was a tent selling ale, several others hawking pastries, sweets, and keepsakes, but no one would go hungry – one tent with free food had even been set aside for any elves who were too nervous to approach the larger pavilions.

 There were musicians playing, story-tellers weaving wild tales, and magicians amazing the crowds with sleight of hand tricks; acrobats tumbled across maps, and puppeteers retold the story of the battle that ended the Blight, much to the Wardens’ embarrassment.  They all had hats out to collect coppers, and it looked like they’d all make a decent amount of coin given the size of the crowd. 

 Kylon had the guards taking rotations, each having some time to eat and explore the fairgrounds between patrols; some of the army bolstered the guards’ numbers, and overall it seemed unlikely there would be any violence.  We still kept our armour on, just in case.

 A large seating area had been set aside for the nobility, and the Wardens were invited.  Our carts rolled up to the edge of the grounds, and we were allowed to climb down and mingle with the crowds, getting ourselves food before resting on benches with the nobles.

 Later there was dancing, two large flat areas covered with wooden planks, one with a maypole in the centre, and a group of musicians alternated between songs more suited to the formal dances of the nobility, and the more carefree, less structured dancing of the common folk.  I danced with my husband, but also Cailan, my brother, Nathaniel, most of the Wardens, and several of the nobility.  I didn’t know any of the steps to the formal dances, so I only agreed to go during the less structured ones; even in armour, it was a lot of fun twirling and laughing between various partners.

 Needing a breather, I sat for a moment and watched my adorably clueless husband dance with some young noblewoman – it wasn’t Habren, but I hadn’t caught her name.  The look she’d given him, the glare directed my way, left no question what she was hoping for; I couldn’t even blame her.  My husband, whether dressed in armour or a suit, was the most handsome man in Thedas, after all, and now a prince.  But as much as she tried to flirt, he was only concentrating on his feet, trying not to step on her as he shuffled her awkwardly around the dance floor.  I’d have been jealous, if his obvious discomfort wasn’t so clearly written across his face.

 While I watched, someone sat down beside me; I turned to see Fergus, a mug of ale in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.  He held out the wine, and I took it with a grateful smile.  I took a sip, and it was good – sweet, just how I liked it.

 “You’ve been talking to Zevran, your Grace.”

 He smiled.  “Well, I felt I should get to know the man who won my brother’s heart.”

 I was shocked, having expected Fergus to either be bothered by Aedan’s orientation, or possibly try to deny it.  _And he didn’t call me Princess._   “He’s a wonderful person.”

 Fergus chuckled.  “You’re surprised that I know.”

 I flushed.  “I shouldn’t make assumptions, I suppose.  Aedan never wanted to discuss his…interest, with your parents.  He thought they wouldn’t approve, and I just assumed you would feel the same.”

 He examined me, smile faltering.  “My parents?  Shouldn’t you be saying ‘our’ parents?”

 I sighed.  “I know you don’t believe me, and I won’t push myself where I’m not wanted, your Grace.  Not to mention, even though I believe I am your sister, I wasn’t raised by the same people.  I can’t claim to know anything about how they’d feel about…anything, really.  A blood relationship isn’t the same as parentage.”

 He sat silently considering that for a moment, and then nodded.  “They weren’t upset that he likes men.  But an heir would have been important, and it would eventually have caused problems.  I know they’d been looking for a match with someone who would be…understanding.  Not have expectations. 

 “But now…he’s a Grey Warden.  He can’t hold a title, so his children wouldn’t be in line for the Teyrnir anyway.  Even if Cailan reverses that rule for Ferelden…it just doesn’t feel like it matters anymore.  After everything that happened, after all we’ve lost…”  His voice cracked, and I suppressed the urge to touch him, to offer sympathy.  “If he can have some measure of happiness, that’s all I want for him.  I wouldn’t take that away from him.”

 I looked away from the raw pain on his face, watching Alistair for a moment as he tried to spin the little harpy he was dancing with.  “Thank you, your Grace.  I know your approval will go a long way towards helping with Aedan’s happiness.  And…I’m sorry.  For your loss.  I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me, but…”

 He waved his hand dismissively.  “Thank you, Princess.”  I winced, and he looked away, face flushed.  “I’ve danced with all of the rest of my vassals, and I told you I would treat you the same as the rest.  So, will you do me the honour?”

 I twitched, startled.  “Y..your Grace?”

 He reached out and took the wine glass from my hand, then held his hand out expectantly.  “A dance, Sierra.  Yes or no?”

 I nodded dumbly, taking his hand and standing up to follow the Teyrn onto the dance floor in shock.  Alistair caught my eye, a concerned look on his face, and I tried to give him a reassuring smile.  He frowned, but didn’t come and make a scene, for which I was grateful.  He abandoned the woman he’d been dancing with as he slowly moved off the dance floor, eyes never leaving me. 

 I followed Fergus closer to the centre of the floor, heart pounding with anxiety.  The music changed, as we walked, to one of the more formal dances, and I grimaced, tugging on Fergus’ hand.  “Stop.  Your Grace, please stop.  I don’t know how to dance to this.”

 “Just follow my lead.”  He pulled me into position, one of his hands firmly on my back, the other gripping my suddenly sweaty fingers.  “Relax.  I’m not going to try to make you look stupid.  This isn’t a group dance.  It’s like fighting: just move when I do.”

 And then he stepped.  I moved my foot to keep from being trod upon, and suddenly we were, sort of, dancing.  To my relief, he didn’t try too many fancy moves, and for the most part we just swayed back and forth to the tempo of the music.  After the first minute, I settled into the pattern of the steps, trying not to be caught staring at the feet of the people twirling around us.

 I was relieved when the song was over; Fergus was a good dancer, and he hadn’t let me look like an idiot, which he could have, but between my discomfort around him and my discomfort with dancing, I couldn’t have escaped the dance floor fast enough.  So when the last notes of the song sounded, I curtsied, carefully, and then hurried back to my seat where Alistair waited for me.

 I spent the rest of the afternoon glued to my husband’s side, praying no one else would ask me to dance.

 Finally there was a ceremony; Cailan climbed up on a platform, and one of the Circle mages performed some spell that amplified his words.  He made all of our group – companions and Wardens alike – stand beside him as he spoke.

 “Fereldans!” he shouted, as everyone quietened down to listen.  “We are gathered here today to rejoice at the end of the Blight that threatened our homeland.  We have done what no other nation in Thedas has ever managed: we ended a Blight in less than a single year.  We are here to remember and celebrate the lives of those we lost, and to give thanks to our soldiers, our mages, and our allies – including elves and dwarves; because of them, we defeated the horde of darkspawn that threatened not only our lives, but our way of life.  But most of all, we must thank these people standing beside me.

 “These Grey Wardens selflessly dedicate themselves to destroying darkspawn and defending against Blights; these Wardens, despite their numbers being decimated at Ostagar, without the support of their Order, and despite a civil war, gathered an army and defeated the Archdemon.  And Duncan, their Commander, the Hero of Ferelden, gave his life to ensure we would all be safe.

 “I give you your saviours: Ferelden’s Grey Wardens!”

 The cheering was deafening, and not a one of us on the dais had managed to get through the speech without blushing – with the possible exception of Zevran, who I was pretty sure was genetically incapable of it.  We waved, bowed to Cailan, waited politely for the clapping to die down, and then scampered away from the platform as fast as we could without being impolitic.

 The rest of the evening was a riot of laughter, wine, dancing, singing, and spending the last of the time available to us together, before we would be separated.  I missed Faren, Jowan, Bel, Oghren, and Conrad, though I drank enough wine to be rather silly, if not totally sloshed, and wasn’t entirely upset the dwarves would be missing my acute loss of control.  I’d never hear the end of the teasing.  Alistair, slightly less tipsy than me, helped me back to our room after the long, slow cart ride, and after downing a couple of glasses of water, we collapsed together on the bed and slept like drunken dwarves.

 


	119. Goodbyes

Chapter One Hundred Nineteen: Goodbyes

 

The Landsmeet convened four days later; we’d all gotten over any hangovers we’d been left with – Anders had looked like death until he healed himself the next day – and Aedan had sent most of our group on to Amaranthine to wait for us.  The Landsmeet was the last thing we needed to do before we followed them, and Riordan, Loghain, and Dougal would be leaving for Nevarra with Anora by boat from Denerim. 

 I was surprised to discover, as I entered the Landsmeet chamber, that I had an assigned place to stand.  It was up on one of the daises, near Fergus but thankfully not right beside.  Based on the few nobles I recognised and where they were standing, my rank was somewhere roughly equivalent to an Arl, and I saw more than a few scowls and speculative glances directed my way by the nobility who stood below.  No one spoke to me, and everyone nearby left a small but obvious space around me.  I had to admit to being slightly offended, but didn’t care enough to try and breach the gap with small talk.

 I wore black trousers and a long jacket that hung below my rear end, similar in style to what Sereda had been wearing in Orzammar; Leliana, my personal fashion miracle worker, had found a tailor and had several similar outfits made for me before the Landsmeet.  I had a thin, expensive chain shirt on under the jacket as protection, and the trousers were lined with some fabric she’d found that was almost as protective as leather.  The style was distinctly feminine without being overly girly, and I noticed some of the looks I got from the noblewomen in attendance were more directed at my clothing than my station.  _I wonder if I’ve started a new trend, or just made myself the target of the court gossips_.  Not that I cared, but it could be amusing.

 Cailan had the Wardens near the front in a place of honour, and I exchanged nods and winks with my husband and brother as they stood impassively in full armour.  They weren’t the only ones, I noticed; Teyrn Wulff and Arl Bryland, among a few others, were also wearing plate mail.  Even the nobles in fancy clothes, which was most of them, had swords sheathed at their sides, and the women had daggers tucked under belts and kirtles if you knew where to look.  I saw the glint of metal under more than one shirt.  But their demeanors weren’t aggressive towards each other, and it felt more like preparation against assassins or an attack from the outside than fear of fighting within the Landsmeet.

 Riordan, Zevran, Wulf, Sten, and Dougal stood behind Aedan and Alistair, with Loghain half-hidden behind them.  I was somewhat surprised to see him there, but supposed that Cailan could benefit by his tacit support.  None of the nobility had openly declared opposition to Cailan’s rule, but it wasn’t too far a stretch to imagine that some of them might rally behind Loghain or Anora given any encouragement.

 The Grand Cleric was conspicuously absent, as the Landsmeet began; there was an older woman in Chantry robes, a Revered Mother I assumed, standing quietly where she normally would have sat, and as Cailan welcomed everyone, I speculated on whether she’d be Elemena’s replacement.  _Anyone would be better than that old bat, but I hope at least Elemena doesn’t get to pick her own successor._

 The initial part of the Landsmeet was interesting to me only in speculating which aging, overweight nobleman was going to expire of a heart attack as Cailan described the fire and rebuilding in the Alienage.  Apparently half of the nobility weren’t even aware of what had happened – _Maker forbid one of them look over the wall or speak to an elf!_ – and some of them were having complete fits over the expense.  Cailan justified it, given the basically free labour – between the elves and the army – and the stonemasons, who’d already been paid. 

 The outrage increased even more when Cailan announced that he had revoked the law prohibiting elves from being armed.  Now they were allowed to carry weapons within the Alienage, as well as join the city guard.  Sergeant Kylon was called, and he strongly supported the measure, giving testimony that the elves he’d accepted were some of the hardest working and most effective of his guardsmen. 

 All of that was forgotten, however, when Cailan introduced Kallian as the Bann of the Alienage.  Evidently Valendrian had been allowed to choose who would speak for the elves, and he and the other elders had unanimously chosen Kallian.  She came in and stepped down onto the floor with several other Banns and lower nobility, purposefully placing herself at the bottom of the hierarchy, I noticed.  There was a lot of muttering and staring; the nobles left enough room around her to avoid spreading a plague, but Kallian merely stood straight, looking directly ahead at Cailan, the very image of grace under pressure.  After a few awkward moments, Alfstanna stepped forward, nodding at the petite elf and standing by her side, arms crossed imposingly.  Cailan shot the young Bann a grateful look, but she didn’t look like she felt the need for his approval.  The muttering stopped, people obviously not wanting to offend Bann Alfstanna, and the Landsmeet moved on.

 The treaties Cailan had signed – with Sereda and Lanaya, as well as with Aedan and Alistair – were put on record, and I thought I saw a hint of surprised approval from many of the nobles present.  He’d done a remarkable job to get the agreements, and was clever enough to word them in such a way that they were not only mutual non-aggression pacts, but required aid from both elves and dwarves if Ferelden were ever invaded – whether by darkspawn or Orlesians.  And all he’d had to give up was some Blighted land near Ostagar, and recognise Orzammar’s sovereignty – which had never been up for debate, as far as I knew.  We’d have to protect those new allies from invasion as well, but given their locations, if they were under attack, so was Ferelden.  The treaties between Orzammar, the Dalish, and the Grey Wardens were mentioned only in passing – Warden matters, not Landsmeet, I supposed.

 After a brief break for lunch – food was brought in by a small army of servants, and the nobles were served fresh bread, cheese, chilled meat, and watered wine - the Landsmeet approved a small increase in taxes from the lands unaffected by the Blight to help those with damaged lands rebuild, as well as support the Grey Wardens. Cailan spent some time explaining trade deals he’d worked out with various cities in the Free Marches, Nevarra, Orzammar, and Orlais to aid in the recovery.  He announced the separation of our Grey Wardens from Weisshaupt, explaining we had requested a mutual-aid treaty in the case of another Blight.  I wondered if Weisshaupt would accept; time would tell.

 I was shocked when Cailan put Eamon’s name forward as the new Arl of Denerim.  Given the degree of acrimony between the two men, I was amazed Cailan would want his uncle so close by, but I had to admit, Eamon had done surprisingly well working on the rebuilding of the Alienage, and Kallian was the first to throw her support in for the appointment.  It was approved on a temporary basis, given his lack of eligible heirs; I wondered if he and Isolde would try again and end up with a little girl who was also a mage.  Redcliffe was transferred to Teagan, who managed to look pleased and shocked, though I doubted anyone was actually surprised.  Word of Teagan’s defense of Redcliffe and his leading a battalion against the darkspawn had spread among the nobility, and he was suddenly exceptionally popular with the young ladies.

 I wondered how disappointed they’d all be when he married Kaitlyn.

 The last order of business was the fate of Anora.  To Cailan’s credit, his ex-wife was brought in for the discussion, and he told the Landsmeet she would be allowed to voice an opinion on the options available.  He didn’t mention she’d already made her choice.  He proceeded to explain the choices he’d approved:

 She would be allowed to dedicate herself as a Chantry initiate, staying in Ferelden at an isolated Monastery on the eastern shore beyond the Brecilian Forest.  She would have to give her oath not to become involved in Fereldan politics in any way, and not to leave the monastery for the rest of her life.

 She would be allowed to join the Weisshaupt Grey Wardens, if they would take her, with the understanding that she would be kept out of Orlais and away from Ferelden. 

 The third option would be to travel to Nevarra, which was what I knew had been decided.  Cailan explained the favourable marriage contract with an older nobleman, a duke named Rethnar Anaxas from Hunter’s Fell, in northern Nevarra.  If he succeeded in his political bid, and she helped him, she’d be well set up in Nevarra when he died and his children inherited.  He had the equivalent of an Arling, with several vassals, that she would administer while he was in Nevarra City, not to mention joining him there if he was successful.

 Everyone seemed surprised to see Cailan had gone to so much effort to give her options that weren’t awful; he’d seemed so angry, before the prior Landsmeet, but all I could see in his eyes when he looked at her was regret.  I was proud of him for not trying to make himself feel better by punishing her.  Her expression was still somewhat startled, and I wondered if she had expected he’d change his mind and have her executed for treason.

 The other nobles seemed to be waiting to see what Anora would say; she traded glances with her father, then examined Cailan’s impassive face for a moment before speaking.

 “For one who has been put aside and all but charged with treason, I am gratified to be allowed the opportunity to have input on my own fate.  I would apologise for my actions before and during the Blight if I thought those sentiments would be accepted, but I know they will not.

 “While I respect the Chantry and the Grey Wardens, I have no wish to join them.  I am neither sufficiently devout, nor do I have the martial prowess for either of those options to make sense.  I will accept my exile to Nevarra, and my marriage to Duke Anaxas, if his Majesty will allow it, with gratitude.”

 The look that passed between Cailan and Anora was heartbreaking, but also hopeful somehow.  Perhaps it was the reality of their annulment setting in, but it seemed they both regretted how things had fallen apart between them, but also accepted that they were better off separate, not together; they had hope for their futures.  _Maybe they really just brought out the worst in each other.  Had things been different…_   I was struck by a sobering thought, and I sought out Alistair on the floor near Cailan.  He glanced at me at the same time, eyes drawn to mine, and he smiled – the type of smile that crinkled his eyes and lit up his face.  _No, that will never be us._   I blew him a kiss, and he reddened slightly, rubbing at his neck with a silly grin.

 The court approved Anora’s choice, and Cailan declared that Anora, escorted by the Orlesian Wardens and Loghain, would depart for Nevarra on the morning tide.  With that settled, the Landsmeet was over – one of the fastest in recent history, according to a nobleman I overheard talking to Fergus.

 “And that’s as it should be,” he declared, a bored-looking Fergus nodding.  “We have enough problems waiting for all of us at home; it’s a waste of time for every noble in the country to be tied up here in meetings when we should be attending to the harvest and rebuilding.”

 I hoped the rest of the nobility felt the same way, and would go home and work hard to ensure the entire country didn’t starve over the winter.

 The remaining Wardens – except Loghain – and Cailan, Kallian, Teagan, Eamon, Fergus, Alfstanna Eremon, Leonas Bryland, and Gallagher Wulff, among a small number of other nobles, went to the Gnawed Noble for supper.  I was famished; the lunch in the Landsmeet had been fine, but the portion was suitable for a normal skinny human girl, not the Grey Warden appetite I had.  I ate as much as I could without being obvious, and Alistair promised to sneak into the palace kitchens when we got back for a snack.

 It was a nice celebration, more personal and real than the massive gathering we’d been so visible at a few days prior.  Kallian was accepted without question, to her apparent surprise, and was soon chatting with Bann Alfstanna and Teyrn Wulff about ways to improve the lives of the elves living in their Alienages.  Cailan and the other nobles acted like normal people, much to the confusion of the wait staff who had to be convinced to stop bowing or curtseying every second minute and calling everyone by pretentious titles.  It was amusing to watch them initially fall all over themselves, but they finally got back to normal, serving us without fuss. 

 By unspoken agreement, we didn’t discuss the Blight or the Landsmeet, the rebuilding, the darkspawn, or anything else awful or contentious.  I got to know several of the nobles better, and felt like they were the sort of people who’d support the changes I hoped to see in Ferelden since Cailan’s reinstatement.  None of them seemed racist, classist, sexist, or homophobic, and all of them avoided discussing the Chantry in a way that led me to believe they’d fix those problems too, given half a chance.  And it was nice having a chance to talk to a female noble; there weren’t many that held titles, despite there being no rule against it, and Alfstanna was refreshingly direct about holding her own in a man’s world.

 “You’ll be alright,” she asserted.  “Don’t let them get away with anything, stand up for what’s right, and don’t let it matter what you have under your armour.

 “I like that outfit, though – feminine without being…frilly.  I’ve been accused of being too masculine, never taking off my armour.  Can I have the name of your tailor?”

 I had no idea, of course; I promised to find out from Leliana and send word.

 Teagan admitted he had chickened out and had yet to propose; he promised he would be asking Kaitlyn to marry him on his return to Redcliffe, and was teased good-naturedly for a while about working on an heir.  He avoided turning it back on Cailan, Fergus, Alfstanna, or Eamon, all currently without heirs of their own – for various reasons, many of them tragic – and I was grateful.

 Fergus bowed out early, not that I was surprised; we were all trying to be happy, and he was still coming to terms with his losses.  I held Aedan’s arm when he got up to chase after him; it was clear Fergus wanted to be alone.  “In the morning,” I assured Aedan, and my brother sighed and nodded sadly.

 We settled the bill between us and went back to the palace; I was almost dizzy with relief that the Landsmeet was over and no one had died.  My Prince made love to me, as relieved as I to be done with the politics for a good long time.

 The ship to Nevarra was set to sail on the mid-day tide; we found ourselves on the dock an hour before, trying to figure out how to say goodbye to someone we knew wouldn’t survive to see us again.  I let Aedan and Alistair talk to Riordan and Dougal one last time, standing off to the side alone, while Cailan had words with the captain.  Anora approached me while I was busy watching Cailan, clearing her throat to get my attention.

 “I was doomed from the start, wasn’t I?  You played the game well.”  She sniffed, her superior attitude coming off as sour grapes, and I suppressed a smile.

 “That’s the thing.  I wasn’t playing a game.  I mean, we lied, obviously, but none of us did anything to you, Anora.  He’d have been prepared to forgive you, I think, to let you stay his queen – but you destroyed any chance of that when you betrayed us in the Landsmeet.  Something you don’t truly understand about your former husband, I think, is his sense of justice.”

 “Oh, and you know him so much better than I?”

 I sighed, saddened by her pathetic insinuation.  “Not carnally, if that’s what you’re asking.”  I rolled my eyes.   “But when was the last time you actually talked to him?  Not telling him what to do, or blowing him off, not trying to shoo him out from underfoot…but actually had a conversation?  Asked him what he thought about something?  I’d wager I do know your husband better than you, to be honest.  Cailan is many things, sheltered being one, and he’s had a lot of growing up to do over the past year, thanks not only to you and your father, but also to Maric…but he cares a lot about things being fair.  And I don’t think you know the meaning of the word.”

 “You could have been queen, you know.  I’ve seen the way he looks at you.  You chose the wrong brother.  Too late now, of course; the Landsmeet would never accept you now, having been married to someone else.”

 “That’s the difference between you and me, Anora.  I don’t want to be queen; I never did.  I chose my husband for love, not power or influence.  I wouldn’t have cared if he was a peasant from the poorest farm in all of Ferelden, I’d still have married Alistair.  As for Cailan, that look you mentioned is disbelief, not interest.  He doesn’t know quite what to do with someone who tells him the truth, without hiding or sugar-coating it, and who isn’t helplessly waiting to fall into his bed.  Was jealousy really what was driving you, all these years?  That’s just…sad.  I think I pity you, actually.”

 Her eyes flashed, barely concealed rage on her face, but we were interrupted by the captain, who approached Anora with his hand out.  “My Lady, may I escort you on board?”

 “I wish you luck, Anora.  I hope Nevarra agrees with you.”

 She huffed indignantly, refusing to make eye contact, and stormed on board, not saying goodbye to Cailan or even making eye contact; not even waiting for the captain, who watched her go with an amused smirk.  “This is going to be a long trip, isn’t it?”

 I hummed an agreement, and after bowing politely to me, he turned and walked up the ramp, leaving me to approach the Grey Wardens with Cailan.  Riordan turned to me with a subdued smile.

 I had no words, so just stepped up and pulled the Orlesian into a hug.  He patted my hair, reminding me of Duncan, and I turned away to hide my tear-filled eyes as the rest of the group said goodbye as well.  Cailan and his guards left; it was just Wardens left on the docks as the sailors got ready to go.

 I turned to Loghain, crossing my arms and bowing as Wardens seemed to like to do.  “Good luck, Warden.”  He searched my face, probably for some sign of irony or mocking, but I was truly sincere.  _Just because I’m happy you’re leaving doesn’t mean I’m hoping for you to be miserable.  Not entirely, anyway._  

 He finally nodded, one corner of his lips turning up in an almost-smile.  “Thank you, your Highness.”

 I winced, rolling my eyes as he smirked.  “Dare I ask – what for?”

 “I know you were part of the reason I was recruited, and Anora was kept safe.  Duncan told me, before… Anyway, thank you.  And good luck.”

 “Try not to kill any Orlesians when they call you a ‘dog lord’, alright?”

 He chuckled, his gravelly voice tight as he looked around at Denerim one last time.  He bowed to the rest of the group, took a last deep breath, and walked up the plank without looking back.

 Dougal offered hugs all around, the stocky older man somewhat teary himself, and I took the opportunity to tease him into smiling.  “Don’t worry,” I whispered.  “Wynne’s going to travel, I just know it.  Show her a good time, would you?”

 He ruffled my hair, making me squawk in annoyance, and after finishing his goodbyes, he hoisted his bag and carried it carefully on board.

 We all stood and saluted as the boat bearing three of the heroes of the Blight pulled away from the docks; Dougal and Riordan stood at the rails, and I waved until I couldn’t see them anymore in the afternoon glare.  I pulled my husband, my brother, and my Antivan friend into a group hug with a strangled sob when they were gone, grateful beyond my ability to express it for the three of them.

 “I love you guys.  You know that, right?”

 Aedan kissed my forehead, Zevran squeezed my hand, and Alistair  wrapped his arm around my waist, holding me close as we turned to head back to the palace.

 The following day, Fergus left again for Highever, and those of us remaining, including seven Wardens, Leliana, Prince and me, packed ourselves up to leave for Amaranthine at first light the day after that.  Saying goodbye to Cailan was harder than I expected, for both Alistair and I; we knew we were leaving him with few supporters, fewer friends, and a lot of disgruntled Loghain cronies to deal with, not to mention the nightmare of trying to recover from the Blight. 

 I managed to wait until I was alone to shed a few tears; in such a short time, we’d lost so much – Duncan, Riordan, Dougal, Sten…even those who hadn’t died, we would likely never see again.  And now walking away, leaving Cailan alone…it didn’t feel right.  But I worried Alistair would misunderstand my sorrow, or feel insecure if he thought I would miss Cailan, so I held it in until I got the chance to slip back into our room alone to finish packing.

 I shouldn’t have bothered – Alistair followed me within five minutes, scooping me up from the bed where I sat sniffling, holding me in his lap as he rested against the headboard.

 “Duncan?” he asked.

 I nodded, wiping my nose.  “And Riordan.  Even Cailan and Anora, Loghain…there’s been so much upheaval.  I know it’s for the best, but…I miss them, and I worry about Cailan.”

 “I know.  Me too.  But he has us now, and we’ll be back here often, I suspect.  As weird as it is, we’re family now.”

 “I’m so lucky,” I whispered.  “I never dreamed I’d have any of this – a husband, brothers, in-laws, friends.  But it’s inevitable that I’m going to lose some of them, and I never imagined that could hurt this much, either.  I love you, Alistair.”  I sniffled again as the tears started anew.

 “I’m not going anywhere.  I promise.”  He kissed my forehead, settling back on the pillows, cradling me against his chest.  His heartbeat, that constant, soft susurration that, to me, meant ‘home’, soothed me to sleep as the tears – mixed grief and gratitude, now – finally stopped falling.

 When we woke, it was after supper; we snuck into the dining room, hoping the staff hadn’t quite cleared the table yet, only to find Cailan, Kallian, Teagan, and the rest of the Wardens laughing and chatting over an open keg of ale, the table still covered in dishes of food.  My irrational fit of melancholy behind me, I climbed into an open space between Kallian and Wynne, served myself an enormous helping of pheasant, potatoes, some unknown green vegetable that reminded me of asparagus, and dug in.  Alistair sat between my brother and his, immediately engulfed in conversation.

 We made it an early night, and my parting with dear Wynne, Kallian, Teagan, and Cailan was much more cheerful than I expected.  Not having to see Eamon helped, though I’d softened towards him a fair bit since the Alienage rebuild.  _Having my cry early let me move past the grief and enjoy my last night._  

 I felt like it was likely I wouldn’t see Wynne again often; between her plans for a clinic in Denerim, her promise to help Caridin and Shale, and the politics I knew would eventually draw her to Cumberland and Val Royeaux, I felt like I was losing her.  At the same time, as she pulled me in for a last, warm hug, I felt a little bit like a child moving away from her parents for the first time.  Wynne had been my surrogate mother for a year, but perhaps I didn’t need a mother anymore.  I’d miss her, but somehow I knew it would be okay.

 I gave her a sealed envelope telling her everything I could remember about her son, the spirit boy, Cole, Evangeline the templar, and events at the White Spire that would lead to her death.  I wasn’t sure she’d read them, but she’d have the option without having to track me down.  I kissed her cheek and slipped out into the doorway to let her say goodbye to everyone else.

 Watching Kallian bid Wulf goodbye brought a lump to my throat; I’d somehow assumed, given their apparent relationship, that she’d be staying in his room, though I suppose after what she’d been through, it shouldn’t have shocked me that things hadn’t progressed that far.  But when I accidentally wandered out in the hallway to see their foreheads pressed together tenderly, his fingers stroking her cheek as she clenched both hands in the long hair at his nape, it was obvious they were in love, even if they hadn’t figured out how to get over the hurdle her abuse presented.  I slipped back inside the dining room, undetected by either desolate elf in the hallway, blocking the door and making awkward small talk until I was certain they’d be done.

 Wulf was gone when I finally caved to the strange looks my odd behaviour garnered and opened the door; Kallian wiped her cheeks surreptitiously as everyone spilled through, offering her goodbyes.  The men, never sure how nervous they made her, shuffled past with a wave, but Leliana and I pulled the poor girl into a hug.

 “Don’t worry.  He’ll be back,” I promised, whispering.  “I’m going to talk Aedan into assigning him to Denerim, once the Thaw is over.”

 She nodded, voice raw.  “Just keep him safe.”

 With one final, reassuring squeeze, I bid her farewell, and went back to my room to make love to my husband before our early morning march.

  _Tomorrow, everything will be different._

 


	120. Vigilance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story starts becoming more and more AU. All of the changes - with the exception of Alistair and Cailan's ages, and Solona and ANders knowing each other - are directly traceable to something Sierra changed, either on purpose or by accident. 
> 
> Updates are likely to be on Tuesdays from now on - Mondays are crazy. 
> 
> This is the NSFW, descriptive sex included version of this chapter. If that isn't your thing, take a look at my profile on livejournal or fanfiction dot net for an edited version.

Chapter One Hundred Twenty: *Vigilance

 

It was five, miserable days of walking through the early fall rain to reach Amaranthine, and by the time we did, every single thing I owned was soaked.  The Vigil was as ugly as I remembered from Awakenings, and worse than I’d imagined it.  The walls around it sort of…sagged, obviously in major need of maintenance, and the gate couldn’t even be closed, never mind barred, the wood warped and cracking.  I didn’t care at that moment, however; the main building was more-or-less waterproof, I assumed somewhere inside there would be a bathtub I could use and a bed to collapse into. 

 I’d never been so happy to see a dilapidated stone monstrosity in my entire life.

 I was thrilled to learn that Nathaniel had warned the staff we were coming; there were torches lit, and a massive brazier in the entry hall took the chill and dampness out of the air as we all shrugged off wet cloaks and dropped our sodden backpacks.  We’d rated a couple of pack animals for the trip, given to us by Cailan; most of our gear was with them, and we carried only personal items.  Most of us weren’t skilled enough horsemen to justify giving us horses.  As we filtered into the main hall of the keep from the foyer, a bevy of servants swarmed the entry way, taking our things and disappearing down a side hallway.

 An older, distinguished-looking man I recognised easily from Awakenings awaited us by the roaring hearth at one end of the room, and I had to stop myself from rushing forward to greet him.  Nathaniel shook his hand, and then turned to us.

 “This is-“

 “Seneschal Varel,” I breathed, interrupting Nathaniel and earning myself a grin from the normally taciturn nobleman, and a confused frown from poor Varel.

 “As ever, the lady is correct.  Varel, these are the Wardens and their companions I mentioned.”

 He introduced each of us in turn, and we all exchanged brief Warden greetings or handshakes – except for Alistair and me.  Varel dropped to one knee in front of us, calling both of us ‘your Highness’ despite Nate’s introduction of us as Warden-Commander and Lady Theirin.  Alistair stiffened, his expression dismayed; I just sighed.  _I’ve been getting this so much I’m almost used to it.  How sick is that?_

 I stepped forward, taking Varel’s hand and pulling him to his feet.  “Please, don’t.  We don’t stand much on ceremony.  I’m just Sierra, he’s Alistair.  Definitely not ‘your Highness’, and preferably not ‘my Lady’.  If you need a title for him,” I gesture over my shoulder at Alistair, “go for Commander, but I’m still just Sierra.  Please?”

 I was babbling, and the Seneschal blinked at me in bemusement.  “So, if I have this straight, you’re trying to have me arrested?”

 I stared at him for a moment with my mouth open, until finally Nathaniel laughed.  “Varel, don’t give the Lady a hard time.”  He turned to me and stage-whispered, “Some people say I’m the one with the dry sense of humour, but I learned it from him.”

 I glanced back at Varel, and saw a hint of a smirk playing around his lips.  _Oh, he’s kidding.  I’m an idiot._   Aedan chuckled, and then I was giggling as I shook Varel’s hand.

 “Sorry, your Highness.”

 “Sierra,” I said firmly, insistently making eye contact.

 “My Lady,” he tried, but I shook my head.  He sighed.  “Lady Sierra?”

 I guessed that this was the most I could reasonably expect.  I rolled my eyes, and finally nodded.

 “I have quarters prepared for you all.  I imagine you’d all like to get dry.  Please follow me.”

 Nathaniel followed behind as we all trooped after Varel, soggy and cold, up a couple flights of stairs and down a long hallway.  There was a large sitting area at one end, holding a handful of servants and most of the group’s gear.  Varel gestured to either side as he walked.

 “These are your rooms.  Wardens Conrad, Rolan, Bel, and Oghren,” he grimaced at the last entry in his list, and I giggled, “have already chosen rooms.  The open doors are available, please choose whichever room you’d like.”

 I glanced through one open door to see a small, plain room, with an armour stand, a large chest, a small wardrobe, and an oversized single bed.  _Nice, but plain.  Perfect, actually – though I hope there’s a room with a bigger bed._ I flushed, and Alistair looked at me with a smirk, apparently having the same thought.  I slapped his shoulder, and he chuckled.

 “There are two double-occupancy rooms around that corner, if you wish.  Bathing rooms are down the hall - the first baths have been drawn, and the servants will help you settle in and draw the next baths when you’re ready.  The dining room is off the main hall – a late supper will be served there in approximately one hour.  The other Wardens will meet you there.”  I had to admit to being surprised that Conrad and the others weren’t waiting for us when we arrived.

 He turned to look at me, before letting his gaze travel to Alistair and Aedan.  “Commanders, Lady Sierra, your quarters are this way.” 

  _Oh, the double-occupancy rooms aren’t for us?_   Aedan put his hand on Zevran’s shoulder, pushing him to keep walking; Nathaniel tucked Leliana’s hand shyly under his arm, and I saw her beam him an ecstatic smile as he followed Varel further down the hall.  I looked back, as Alistair led me forward, to see Solona and Anders disappearing around the corner, heading towards the larger rooms, and I smiled.  They had begun sleeping together again sometime around the battle with the Archdemon – _how Solona held out that long, I’ve no idea_ – but had tried to keep it a secret until we’d left Denerim, for some reason.  Largely unsuccessfully; _they aren’t used to rogues in the Tower, I think._   I was pleased they’d finally decided to be together openly.

 I was thoroughly lost by the time Varel paused in a long, dim hallway; between gawping around like a fish, and woolgathering about Solona and Anders, I hadn’t paid any attention to our route.  I hoped Alistair had some idea how to get back to the main hall, or we were both going to be embarrassed – and hungry – before long.

 Varel pointed at a closed door, and turned to Alistair and me.  “This one is yours, Commander and Lady Sierra.  The one opposite is for you.”  He pointed at Aedan.  He didn’t seem fazed by Zevran’s presence, and I smiled gratefully.

 We opened the doors and peeked inside; I gasped when I found a beautifully furnished room larger than the one at the Palace in Denerim I’d shared with Alistair.  There was an enormous bed, a four-poster with a canopy, a couch in front of the merrily burning hearth, a little nook to the side with what looked to be a makeup counter complete with a large mirror on a stand, and I assumed the curtained door off to the right led to a private bathroom.  The rug and walls were deep brown, the fabric of the drapes, canopy, and couch a royal blue, and a large, beautiful painting of a beach and the ocean tied it together nicely.  Aedan’s room was similar, though slightly smaller and decorated in shades of green, with no makeup nook. 

 I giggled.  “I think you’ve got the rooms reversed, Seneschal.  I have no idea what to do with that area, but I’m certain someone else could use it.”  I winked at Zevran, and he growled good-naturedly at me; Varel’s ears reddened as he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to hide his smile.  Aedan just laughed.

 “Well, I’m certain you’ll find some use for the desk, Sierra.”  Nathaniel’s tone was wry, and he smirked at me.  “Anyway, my room’s there.  Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

 He took Leliana’s hand and led her through the doorway; three servants came bustling around the corner, each loaded down with soggy bags, and they dropped our things on the floor inside each of our rooms. 

 “Put all wet items, laundry, or armour to be cleaned in the hamper, and someone will see to them in the morning,” Varel instructed.  “The servants should be here momentarily with hot water for the baths.”

 “We won’t need any,” I volunteered, pointing at Alistair and me, flushing when Varel raised his eyebrow at me.  “Queen Sereda gave me a dwarven water rune.”

 “Very well.  See you in the dining hall in an hour.”  He nodded at us.  “Commanders, Lady Sierra, Warden.”  He followed the servants away, leaving us standing in the hallway.

 I turned to Aedan.  “We are in the family rooms, I’m assuming?  I feel like that’s just…that’s not right.”

 Aedan frowned at me.  “Sort of, but not really.  Pretty much every Keep, and every decent-sized estate for that matter, has rooms for honoured guests, near the family quarters.  But I’m guessing the actual family rooms are being renovated – these aren’t where Nate lived when he was little, I’d bet.  Knowing his father, the family rooms are probably in severe need of redecorating.  I’d bet that’s technically a guest room too.”  He pointed at Nate’s door.  “The bigger issue is where any actual guests will sleep if we’re occupying the guest rooms.  Guess we better hope Cailan and Fergus don’t come to visit over the next few months.  You’re in their room.”

 “We are? How can you tell?”

 Aedan took a few steps into the room I was to share with Alistair and pointed at the curtained doorway.  “That’s how.”

 I shot him a confused look, and headed through the curtain, Alistair on my heels.  There was a large bathroom, with two basins sunk into a large cabinet, a bathtub that could easily accommodate the four of us, and an unusual chamber pot, but what drew my attention was another doorway, also blocked by a curtain.  Behind that door, there was a small corridor with three more doors.  One led to a second, somewhat smaller bedroom that was still lavishly furnished and had a hearth of its own, also lit; one led back to the hallway; and the third to a tiny room holding bunkbeds.  I turned back to Aedan, puzzled.

 “Married quarters for a king or someone of status,” he said, as though that explained anything.  I raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled.  “Most married couples don’t sleep together, at least in arranged marriages.  You don’t think Cailan and Anora shared a room, do you?  This is the husband’s private chamber.  He would…uh, ‘visit’ his wife in her room when they wanted to, uh…”

 We all blushed, except Zevran, who cackled while we all avoided eye-contact awkwardly.  _My brother may approve of my husband, but he hasn’t gotten over his abject fear of talking about sex with me_.  I snorted.  “Right.  Got it.”

 Aedan pointed at the other room and cleared his throat.  “And that’s where your lady’s maid and manservant would stay.”

 I sighed.  “I’m not having servants.  This is ridiculous.  That space could be useful for something, but I guess it can just stay empty for now.  We won’t be here forever, I suppose.”  I looked into the bedroom again.  “Maybe I can shove the bed against the wall and use this room as an office.”

 “Anyhow,” Aedan muttered, and Zevran chuckled again.  “We’ll just leave you…”

 He and Zevran trooped out and across the hall; Zevran closed the door behind himself with a lascivious wink in my direction.  I rolled my eyes.  Once they were gone, I turned to find Alistair rifling through one of his bags, looking for something – my shower head, I hoped.  I eyed him thoughtfully.

 He glanced up at me self-consciously.  “What?”

 I bit my lip.  “Do you…I mean, should I not turn that room into an office?”

 He frowned and stood up, reaching out to cup my cheek.  “I have no intention of sleeping in a bed you aren’t in, if that’s what you’re asking.  Might as well save myself the walk when we want to ‘visit’,” he joked, smirking.

 I laughed and slapped his chest lightly with the flat of my hand.  He grabbed the hand and brought it to his lips, kissing my palm softly.  Looking down at me, his grin slowly faded, and he cocked his head slightly.  “Unless…do you want me to sleep in there?”

 “Maker, no!  If you’re sleeping in there, so am I.”  I stepped closer, pressing myself up against his chest despite his clunky armour.  “Married couples are mostly expected to share a bed, where I come from.”  I smiled softly up at him.  “I just don’t want to, you know, coerce you into something _unnatural_ to you, or anything.”

 “Unnatural?”  He chuckled.  “I never thought I’d be with anyone, Sierra.  I never predicted I’d be married, so it’s not as though I spent hours imagining my married life.  I was certainly never a noble son who expected an arranged marriage.  I married you because I love you, and I want nothing more than to share a bed with you for the rest of my life.  The only unnatural thing would be lying alone in a bed down the hall from you, instead of curled up with you.”

 I reached up to put my hand on his shoulder, unbuckling the strap I knew rested there.  “Speaking of… We have an hour.  I think I’d like to show you just how much I enjoy your ‘visits’.  Did you find my shower head yet?”

 He held up his hand, the little shower head gripped in his palm, and I reached for the buckles of my own armour, flicking them open and dropping pieces behind me as I turned to head back into the bathroom.

 “Coming?” I asked my husband, who was watching me with a rapidly darkening gaze.

 He snorted and began the process of removing his armour; by the time he made it to the bathroom, I was naked and had done my business with the chamber pot.  The unusual feature I hadn’t initially understood about the necessary piece of furniture was that, contrary to most of the chamber pots I’d seen since coming to Thedas, this one was actually anchored down to the floor, sort of the way toilets were on Earth.  I’d inspected it briefly to discover that, surprisingly, the Vigil had been built with at least rudimentary plumbing.  Instead of an actual pot, there was a tube, lined with what had to be thin sheets of metal, leading down into the floor, and underneath the sink there was a large bucket of cold, not entirely clean-looking water.  I realised the water must be used to flush the makeshift toilet, and was probably used bathwater or something similar – to save a servant having to bring up buckets of extra water every day.

 The tub also had a drain in the bottom, and another tube led underneath the stone floor.  I grinned at Alistair as he came in.  “I may not love living in Rendon Howe’s former home, but I won’t complain about the accommodations.”  I showed him the plumbing, and he whistled, impressed.

 “I’m so happy for you,” he murmured, wrapping his big hands around my waist and pulling me in to kiss my forehead.

 “For me?”  I cocked my head to the side, confused.

 “I know how you feel about daily showers.”  He grinned.  “Not that I’m complaining – you in the shower is one of my favourite things.”

 “Show me,” I whispered, reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck, raising my lips for a proper kiss.

 He indulged me, deepening the kiss and invading my mouth with his tongue; I gasped as he reached down, tightened his grip, and lifted me like a child into the tub.  We separated long enough to get clean, using the luxurious soaps and shampoo sitting on a little table next to the tub; Alistair finished first, his short hair taking less effort than my long curls, and he took the opportunity to run his soapy hands down my back, then over my shoulders while I lathered my hair.  I hummed happily as he pressed his thumbs into a knot in my neck.

 He stepped closer, his chest pressed to my back, and his hands wandered down my front to cup my breasts.  One soapy thumb teased my nipple, the other held my shower head, playing the water across my breasts and down my front.  His teeth found my neck, and I could feel his erection pressing against my lower back as I leaned into his embrace.

 I moaned and pressed my ass back more firmly against him, hair forgotten as I reached out blindly for the wall in front of me, needing something to brace myself against.  One of Alistair’s arms wrapped around my waist, tilting my pelvis, and I felt his length between my legs, searching for entrance.  I spread my legs further and gasped as he entered me, stretching me deliciously and hilting himself in one swift plunge.

 And then it was all sensation – his hands, one still teasing my hard nipple, the other now aiming my shower head at the apex of my thighs, the water tickling at my clit; his length inside me, filling me, just this side of too much; his lips and teeth on my neck and shoulder; the slickness of the wall my fingers scrabbled against for purchase.  The little bathroom was starting to steam up, and my breath came in frantic bursts as I tried to hold back, keep myself in one piece as the feeling of him overwhelmed me.

 I was vaguely aware that Alistair was probably less than comfortable, crouched as he was to accommodate my shorter legs, and that the water from my shower head was spraying across the room as he lost control of his aim; I was aware, but I didn’t care.  Only we mattered, only that he didn’t stop, only that he held me as I shrieked into orgasm in his arms, shuddering and writhing as all thought fled.

 When I came back to myself, we were kneeling in the half-full tub, water running down the walls and dripping from the ceiling; I was perched in Alistair’s lap, while his length softened inside me and he panted, his forehead pressed against my shoulder.  I groaned softly as he slipped out of me, and he readjusted us so that he sat in the tub and held me sideways across his lap.  His big hands stroked my arm and back soothingly, and I twisted to meld my mouth to his once I’d finally caught my breath.

 “Andraste’s panties, that was…”  He shook his head, apparently at a loss for words.

 “Mmhmm,” I agreed, settling my head against his shoulder sleepily.  “I love you, Alistair Theirin.”

 “Oh, Sierra.”  He tilted my head back and kissed me again.  “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of hearing you say that.  Or of you, just in general,” he finished with an endearingly shy smile.

 Suddenly he twitched, muscles jumping beneath my bottom.  “Maker!  We’re going to be late for dinner.”

 A little bit over an hour after Varel had left us, clean and more-or-less dry, I followed Alistair back through the winding corridors of the Vigil towards the dining room.  I was certain we couldn’t be going the quickest way – or else the place really was designed by a mad man – but we hadn’t had time to explore and find a shortcut.  The other Wardens’ rooms were empty when we went past, and Alistair and I both blushed when we realised we were going to be probably conspicuously late.

 Once we reached the main floor, we were able to follow our noses to the dining room.  The noise echoing down the hallway as we approached was incredible; I could hear Oghren’s drunken laugh – _heh heh heh_ – over the sounds of talking, laughter, and eating, and Alistair and I exchanged smiles before racing through the swinging door to see everyone.

 There were multiple tables in the hall, currently set up in a large square configuration so everyone could see everyone else; food was piled atop more tables around the periphery, and servants circulated through with wine and ale.  There were a lot more people present than I expected; our group had apparently been joined by a large number of dwarves, who were sitting along the far side of the square, eating and drinking while quietly watching the proceedings.  I was distracted from figuring out who they were, however, when a strong pair of arms ripped me out of Alistair’s grasp and swung me in a circle.

 I looked up to see Conrad grinning down at me; his green eyes sparkled, and his usually flawlessly coiffed ginger hair was a mess.  He looked content, and I guessed he was happy to see me, if the smile was any indication.  When he finally deposited me back on the ground, breathless and giggling, I almost fell as I was thumped enthusiastically on the back by another ginger – this one a dwarf.

 “Toots!” Oghren roared, and I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at the obviously inebriated dwarf.  “Thought you’d never get here.  You two spend any more time playing hide the sausage, and you’d have missed the grub altogether!”

 Alistair smacked Oghren good-naturedly upside the head while I groaned and hid my face in my hands; finally Leliana rescued me and drew me into a conversation with Bel, whose stutter had continued to improve until it was barely noticeable now.  I grasped his forearm warmly, and then tilted my head to the dozen or more unfamiliar dwarves across the room as I prepared myself a plate from the generous dishes on the sideboard.

 “Who’re our guests?”  I asked, as a servant delivered me a glass of wine, and I settled into a seat between Bel and Leli.  Aedan and Alistair had been called to sit alongside Nathaniel and Varel, and the rest of the Wardens filled out the other two sides of the square.  I noticed Rolan sitting at the end nearest the dwarves, eating quietly, alone.  He hadn’t even glanced at the mages, as far as I could tell, and I wondered what Conrad had said to him over the past few months.  _Maybe he won’t be as big an ass as you think….yeah, right._

 “Legion of the D-dead!” Bel’s enthused answer pulled me out of my daze.  “Not Kardol’s, but one of the other companies.  We hired local hunters to find the Deep Roads tunnel collapse you warned us about, and found an entire company of the Legion being attacked by darkspawn.  Rescued them, and – with the help of Dworkin – killed a handful of broodmothers.  Figured you’d want to m-meet them, so we dragged them back with us.”

 I blinked as I processed that information.  _Kal’Hirol, already cleared?  The Legion of the Dead – alive?_   I looked at the dwarves more closely, and there, in the middle, found a familiar face – Sigrun.  She was talking to another dwarf, a broad smile on her pretty face, her hands gesturing animatedly as she spoke, while the recipient of her enthusiastic chatter grunted and avoided eye contact.  I chuckled.  _Seems even her comrades can’t get used to her overwhelming cheerfulness._   I remembered Sigrun from the game – at the end, going back into the Deep Roads to die, full of survivor’s guilt – and wondered when the unexpected consequences of my presence in Thedas would stop surprising me.

 Something else struck me.  “Wait – Dworkin?  He’s here?” 

 Bel nodded.  “He’s mad as a…actually, I don’t even know, but he’s here.  Collapsed h-half of that Thaig on the broodmothers with some Lyrium bomb.  Trevian was so angry!  But we killed a lot of ‘spawn, and none of them were the talking kind.”

 “Is Dworkin’s brother here too?”

 “Voldrik.  Yeah, somewhere.  They’re n-not very sociable, those two.  Dworkin’s too crazy, and Voldrik’s too gloomy.”

 I smiled, relaxing.  Not that I hadn’t trusted the stone masons Sereda had ‘loaned’ us, but I knew Voldrik was capable of fixing up the Vigil to withstand everything the Mother could throw at it.  If they worked together, who knew what would happen!  I’d just have to convince Nathaniel and Aedan to fund him – and find him some stone to work with.

 “What about Wade and Herren?”

 “Yes, they’re here too.”

 “The basement?”

 “Some of the tunnels have been collapsed for years – Varel’s had crews d-digging them out.  They may be passable, but they aren’t safe.  Lost a soldier in a collapse the first time we tried to get through.  Found an Avvar tomb – left it alone.  Figured Arl Howe can decide what to do with that.  When the digging is done, we can clear out the t-tunnels and have Voldrik fix up the Dwarven door.  He confirmed he knows how.”

 I smiled broadly.  “I’m so happy!  Maybe this won’t be the unmitigated disaster it could have been.”  I thought about all the things that could change, as things stood – Sigrun’s Legion company surviving was just the beginning.  I imagined thwarting the major attack on the Vigil that gave the Architect more Warden Blood, preventing the Mother’s forces from destroying the city…

 Thedas without Justice.  Without Vengeance.

 What would that even look like?  Kristoff hadn’t come to Ferelden, so there would be no body for the spirit to inhabit, and no reason for the Wardens to go poking around in… _what was that place called again?_   I spent a few distracted moments searching my brain for the name of the zone where Justice joined the Wardens in game, and drew a complete blank.  But the Wardens would never go there, so we’d never have to see Anders being possessed, Kirkwall being blown up…

 What would that mean for the mage-templar war?  I couldn’t even start to wonder, but just had to hope that it could only be an improvement.  Surely there was some other way to handle Meredith.  Maybe my warning to Greagoir would make a difference…

 It certainly couldn’t get any worse.

 Right?

 


	121. Noble Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am now the (proud?) owner of an enormous hamster. Who never comes out of his little cave except to stuff his cheeks full of food and then hide again. And there's a huge hilarious saga about purchasing the hamster, along with an expensive enclosure made of tubes and things that he didn't fit through...and got stuck in...
> 
> And it's a gateway pet. My husband and kid are already talking about a cat. I may have to murder someone.
> 
> Anyone know how to get a lazy hamster to run on a sideways wheel?
> 
> As usual, I don't own Dragon Age, I just play in their sandbox.
> 
> A million thanks to my fabulous betas Kira Tamarion and Melysande.

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One:  Noble Training

 

 The group of Wardens and the Legion of the Dead ate an incredible amount of food over the late meal; too busy stuffing faces, the noise settled down to a dull roar while we all finished up.  There was enough chaos for me to eat like the Warden I was without raising suspicion.  Poor Nathaniel and Varel looked vaguely ill watching it; Leliana, used to us by that point, just laughed.

 Afterwards, Alistair, Conrad, Aedan, Nathaniel, Varel, and a couple of Legion dwarves stepped out to talk, leaving the rest of us to mingle and chat with the remainder of the Legion.  I overheard multiple stories about the rescue in Kal’Hirol, some people amused by the destruction Dworkin wreaked with his explosives, while some of the dwarves were incensed.  It was interesting that even among the Legion, who were largely former Casteless or dishonoured warriors and nobles like Bhelen, there was discrimination against surface dwarves.  Bel and Oghren defended the pyromaniac, reminding everyone of the massive nest of broodmothers they’d uncovered and destroyed, almost without any injuries.

 I spent some time chatting with Sigrun.  She was unsurprisingly confused by my interest in her, poorly veiled as it was; I’d never claimed to be a good actress.

 “Never been on the surface before,” she was saying.  “It’s sort of…bright, you know?”

 The other dwarves around her nodded as though she’d just said something incredibly profound; I had to restrain a giggle.  I tried not to talk too much, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by acting like I knew her.  She was sweet and somehow adorably naïve; I thought she and Leli could be friends, if only Leliana wasn’t planning on leaving.

 I wondered what would happen now; with her Legion unit still alive, was she going to become a Warden?  I got distracted before I could ponder it too much by Conrad waving to get my attention from the door.

 “What’s up, Conrad?”

 He looked up briefly, confused, before shaking his head with a hint of a smile.  “Commanders want you in the meeting.”

 I followed him down a hallway and around a corner to a closed door; it led to a moderate-sized sitting room with my brother, my husband, and their guests.  Alistair held his arm out, and I squished myself into a space on the couch between him and Aedan with a smile.

 I was introduced to the two dwarves, Trevian, the head of the Legion detachment, and Fargrim, his second in command. 

 “Trevian’s suggested that we work together for a time, make a formal arrangement between the Legion and the Wardens.”

 I raised an eyebrow at the dark-haired, bushy-bearded dwarf.  He grimaced slightly.  “We’d like to retake Kal’Hirol, and we’ll need to borrow your masons to do it after what that stone-blind dunce did to it.  In return, we can help patrol the Deep Roads under the Keep while you find the dwarven door your Commander claims is down there.  And the Keep can have whatever stone you manage to salvage while digging out the Thaig.”

 I nodded.  “Makes sense.  I don’t have any authority here, though – what do you need from me?”

 Aedan smirked at me.  “I’ve recommended one of the Legion join the Wardens as a sort of…liaison, I suppose.  I thought I’d see if you had an opinion on which dwarf would be best suited for the role, given your skills at reading people.”

 I beamed.  _Yes!_  “Join, as in become a Warden?”  At Aedan’s nod, I continued.  “Sigrun,” I replied immediately.  “She’d be perfect.”

 Fargrim gave me a patronising smile.  “In the ten minutes you’ve been in there, you can tell that already?  Our least-experienced Legionnaire?”  He turned back to Trevian to say something else, when Alistair interrupted him.

 “If my wife says Sigrun is the one, she’s the one we’ll take,” he declared, and Aedan nodded.  I was grateful; Avernus’ new Joining potion might be an improvement over the original, but I didn’t want to take any chances.  I wasn’t prepared to watch another dwarf die needlessly to assuage the arrogant dwarf’s concerns.  I wasn’t aware Sigrun was their junior member, but I knew she was loyal, brave, and good in a fight, and best yet, she’d survive the Joining.

 Trevian’s brow furrowed slightly as he regarded me, but finally nodded.  “Sigrun, then.”  His voice was gravelly, like someone who’d smoked for a century; given the lack of regular tobacco that I’d seen in Thedas – the occasional pipe not-withstanding – I wondered if he’d been born that way, or somehow injured his vocal cords.  “When will you perform the Joining?”

 “I’d like to offer her the chance directly, if you don’t mind.  If she refuses, I will take your suggestion on who to approach next.  We can talk with her tomorrow, after everyone has had a chance to get to know each other.”

 “You have accommodations?” I asked.

 Seneschal Varel nodded.  “The main barracks are full, but there’s an outbuilding that used to house surplus guards and Amaranthine soldiers on duty.  The roof will need some work before winter, but it’s acceptable for now.”

 “My men are rather pleased with the opportunity to sleep in actual beds.”  Trevian snorted.  “We’d better go get things settled before the boys find the rest of the ale.”

 Back in the dining room, Aedan made a speech welcoming the Legion, and all the members of both groups announced their names in turn.  A keg of ale was opened, with Varel reminding everyone that would be it for drink for the evening, so we could get to work in the morning.  None of the Legionnaires seemed upset to learn they’d be working with the Wardens, and mugs of ale began being passed around.  We all drank to the Legion and the Wardens – I passed my almost entirely full ale to Oghren after the toast – and then allowed myself to be pulled in Alistair’s lap to catch up with our former companions and get to know our new ones.

 When I looked up a few minutes later, I realised I couldn’t see Rolan anywhere; I soon forgot about him to enjoy my evening.  Tired as we were from the travel, Alistair and I went to bed early, made love tenderly, and then passed out in the first real bed since we’d left Denerim.

 We were woken early by servants banging on the door; it wasn’t quite the crack of dawn, but we hadn’t been allowed to sleep in much.  We climbed out of bed reluctantly, and I put on one of my new pant suits and sat brushing my hair while Alistair struggled into his armour.  I finally took pity on him and began helping him with buckles and straps.

 “Why do they make armour so needlessly complicated?” I grumbled.

 He chuckled.  “We don’t have Earth’s fancy machines to make it, that’s why!”

 I pouted and finally closed the last buckle.  “You’re all set.  What are the plans for the day?”

 “First we’re all going to meet with everyone in the main hall.  I’m taking one group of Wardens and some of the Legion into the basement to close that Deep Roads exit before we’re attacked.  Conrad will be taking a second group to patrol the Wending Wood – you mentioned the darkspawn playing off the humans against the Dalish?  And I think Aedan will be leaving for Amaranthine to help the Arl’s troops clear out smugglers and collapse down any back entrances into the city.  The stone masons will start with plans for the walls.”

 “And me?”  I sighed.  It was going to take some getting used to, being away from Alistair most days for separate duties.  _As much as camping in the rain was unpleasant, at least during the Blight we were together._

 Alistair, sensing my melancholy, pulled me into a gentle hug.  “I think Nate and the seneschal have plans for you.  Administrative…something or other.”  He kissed my pouting lips softly.  “I will miss having you with me, but I won’t miss worrying about your safety.”

 “So I’m just supposed to be the good little wifey, staying safe while my big, strong husband goes off to fight?”

 He tilted my chin up with a tender hand on my jaw.  “Not because you’re a woman, or my wife.  You know that, right?  It’s because you’re the Steward of Soldier’s Peak.  As much as your business experience will help, I suspect there’s going to be a lot to learn to run what’s essentially an Arling.  I think that’s a much more worthwhile use of your time than fighting darkspawn, don’t you?”

 I sighed again.  “You’re right, of course.  I just worry about you.  At least when we’re together, I have some illusion of control; I can pretend that I can help keep you safe.”

 He kissed me again before taking my hand and leading me out into the corridor.  “I love you, Sierra.  Control freak issues and all.”

 He stuck his tongue out at me, turning my glower into a laugh.  We strolled down the more direct route to the main hall – a passing servant had taken pity on us the night before and showed us a way back to our room – and found ourselves something to eat in the dining room.  The Wardens were all there, uncharacteristically quiet in the early morning, and I wondered briefly if one keg was enough alcohol to make them all hungover.

 The Legion were there too, Trevian and Fargrim nodding at Alistair as we entered.  The rest of the dwarves were much livelier than the wardens – whether more used to the early hour or less hungover, I couldn’t say. 

 Aedan was already there, Zevran at his side, silently shoveling food into their mouths and watching the Legionnaires banter.  Alistair and I joined my brother, talking quietly around mouthfuls of porridge, thin-sliced meats, cheese, and thick-sliced bread.  _What I wouldn’t give for a proper toaster._

 After everyone had eaten, Aedan sent Conrad, Rolan, Bel, and Mornwulf off to patrol the Pilgrim’s Path, with strict instructions not to aggravate the elves or allow the humans settled in the area to attack, and under no circumstances to go inside the old Silverite mine; I hoped they’d be in time to prevent the murders of so many of Velanna’s clan, and perhaps even prevent Seranni from being taken by the Architect, but really had no solid way of knowing when those events had happened.  _Hopefully, at the least, if it’s already too late they can waylay Velanna before she attacks too many merchant caravans._  Varel wasn’t yet aware of any problems along the Pilgrim’s Path, so I had hope, anyway.

 Aedan planned to take Zevran, Oghren, Alim, and Prince with him to Amaranthine, along with a number of the army troops assigned to the Vigil by Cailan.  They had multiple goals there: they’d promised Nathaniel to find his sister, Delilah, and invite her to visit the Vigil; they had to help the city guard root out the smugglers plaguing the city and then find a way to close the smuggler’s routes to the coast so the darkspawn wouldn’t be able to make use of them later; Aedan wanted to post notices recruiting for the Wardens in the city; and they wanted to get some of the dwarven stone masons working on Amaranthine’s walls.  A number of the soldiers travelling with them would be staying in Amaranthine, with more coming later to defend against any darkspawn invasion.  Aedan predicted they’d be away for a couple of days to accomplish everything; they were taking a number of Nathaniel’s soldiers with them, and hoped to have the help of the city guard as well.

 The remaining Wardens – Alistair, Anders, and Solona – along with Leliana and about half of the Legionnaires were going to go on an expedition into the Deep Roads underneath Vigil’s Keep.  Voldrik and a couple of the stone masons would be behind them, waiting to close off the tunnel.  Aedan and Alistair had agreed to pair Sigrun up with the Wardens, so Alistair could evaluate her before formally offering her the Joining.  I knew it was only for appearance’s sake; Trevian and Fargrim were still weirded out by the fact that I’d chosen a candidate without hesitation after knowing them only a short time.

 Sergeant Maverlies was being sent as a messenger in case they needed to send someone back while they were fighting.  The fact that they felt the need to take a messenger did not make me any happier about the plan to go essentially into the Deep Roads.  Alistair squeezed me reassuringly when I stiffened up at that revelation, and I shot him a dirty look.

 I went into the courtyard to watch Aedan leave, and Alistair assemble with the Legionnaires and remaining Wardens.  The dwarves had obviously had some time to adjust to being on the surface; none of them spent time staring up at the sky the way Oghren, Faren, and Bel had when we’d first emerged from Orzammar, though a couple of them still looked distinctly pale.  Sigrun alone seemed enthused, examining the way the sun glinted off their armour, and pointing out shapes in the clouds.  I grinned until I realised Fargrim had noticed me watching her; the arrogant dwarf had his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at me, and I moved away uncomfortably.

 Once Aedan was gone, Alistair blew me a last kiss and disappeared through the door into the dungeons, and I was left standing alone in the courtyard.  I reluctantly went back inside, and a servant found me and directed me to Nate’s study.

 I spent the morning discussing my ‘skills’ with Nathaniel; it became clear that running Soldier’s Peak wasn’t going to be the difficult part for me.  The part I would likely struggle with was much more related to understanding Fereldan politics and laws than the details of employing large groups of people, making a budget and the like.  I also lacked some of the basic skills every even vaguely educated Thedosian had, such as legible writing with a quill and ink – Nate pulled out my letter to him in the Free Marches, and Varel’s eyes just about popped out of his head at my appalling penmanship.  _Calligraphy is hard!_ I also had minimal understanding of the hierarchies and entitlements of the Fereldan nobility, including titles.  And I had never ridden a horse.

 With a sigh, Varel set me a schedule for the foreseeable future.  My mornings would consist of a couple of hours of sparring and training with the soldiers to keep in fighting shape, followed by horse-back riding lessons with an elf I recognised – Samuel, the groundskeeper.  Afterwards, I would spend my afternoons divided between practicing my writing, reading political histories as chosen for me by Nathaniel, and essentially etiquette lessons with Varel.  I used the rest of that afternoon to have servants help rearrange the furniture in the spare bedroom in Alistair’s and my suite, turning it into a reading room, with two comfortable wing-back chairs and a desk re-purposed from somewhere else.  The look of surprise on their faces when I asked them to remove the bed was almost comical.  Nate approved a small renovation – a proper door with a lock between the bathing room and the office, so that the office could be accessed from the hallway without anyone getting in to our room – and I expected that to be done over a week or so.

 When Alistair came back that evening, covered in dust and sweat, he found me curled up in one armchair, a stack of books beside me.  I jumped up in surprise when he walked in, staring around himself in awe at the change in the small room.

 “Love?  Maker, you’re filthy.”

 He grimaced.  “I know.  I like what you’ve done with this room, by the way.”

 “What is going on in that basement?  I thought you’d be fighting darkspawn, not rolling around in the dirt.”

 He chuckled, shaking his head.  “Spent most of the day helping the diggers shift debris.  You said Dworkin was responsible for the damage to the Keep, but I don’t think that’s entirely true.  He might even have helped, honestly.  The passages are mostly blocked, some with stone, but most with dirt and roots and wood.  If we want to prevent the darkspawn coming through there, we need to clear the passageway first.  It’s going to take days.  I’ve set up a watch schedule between us and the Legion; whoever’s on watch will end up helping with the digging.”

 “Does that mean you’re done for the day?  You look wasted.”

 He rubbed his forehead, smearing around the dirt through the sweat tracks.  “I hope so.”

 I smiled.  “Let me help you out in the shower.  Let’s get you clean.”

 His exhausted look of abject horror made me giggle. 

 “I said clean, dearest, not dirtier.  Come.”

 I allowed him to shower off alone, rinsing the worst of the dirt, and then had him sit in the tub while I scrubbed his back and lathered shampoo into his hair.  He slumped back against the side of the tub; between sheer weariness and enjoyment of someone taking care of him, I couldn’t have guessed which was more powerful.  He was half asleep by the time he was clean, and I helped him dry off quickly before pushing him onto the bed, tossing a clean pair of sleeping pants his way.

 “I’ll go bring us a private supper.  I’m sure everyone else is also spent; we can eat and call it an early night.”

 I found a servant in the dining area, and explaining who I was, requested she show me to the kitchen.  To my resigned dismay, she insisted on arranging to bring a meal to us, and wouldn’t hear of me raiding the larder for something on my own.  I was shooed back to my room, where Alistair had actually fallen asleep angled across the bed, pants on but undone; I just had time to throw a sheet over him when there was a knock on the door.  Three servants stood outside, holding covered dishes of divine-smelling food; I had them put them on a small table near the hearth, and then ushered them out. 

 True to Warden form, Alistair woke up when the smell of food reached his nostrils; we sat on the rug by the fire and ate quickly.  When we were done, we snuggled for a while; Alistair made a half-hearted attempt at making out, but kept having to interrupt himself to yawn.  Bemused, I finally tucked him in bed and returned to my new study to read for a couple more hours.

 The next morning, Alistair left early, and I put on my armour before heading to the training yard.  I selected a couple of wooden practice daggers before warming up with a sparring dummy.  There were a handful of soldiers also sparring, and a small group of young teenagers, obviously soldiers in training.  Most of Nate’s troops, however, had been deployed either with Conrad, with Aedan, or in the basement of the Keep, just like the Wardens.  I sparred with a couple of soldiers all-too-briefly, and then it was time for my horseback riding lesson.

 It didn’t go well.

 I popped by the stables to let them know I needed to change; Samuel, the groundskeeper and now apparent stable master, shook his head when I mentioned it. 

 “I was specifically told you’d be most likely to ride armed, my Lady; makes sense – if you were wearin’ a fancy dress, you’d be in a carriage.  Armed means riding astride; good thing, too – I’m no expert on sidesaddle.”

 I stared at him like he was speaking in tongues.  “I’m not riding sidesaddle.  Don’t even think about it.”

  He chuckled.  “Put yer helmet on, and let’s get started.  Maybe it’ll protect yer head if ya fall.”

 With that encouraging statement, we began.  Poor Samuel was amazed and somewhat horrified to learn I’d never even been close to a horse, never mind mounted on one.  I admitted I was a bit terrified; the only horses I’d seen in Thedas up to that point were massive beasts, like the ones that pulled Eamon’s carriage from Redcliffe to Denerim.

 When I asked about that, Samuel laughed.  “Those aren’t for riding, my Lady.  Too big, too slow.  They’d only break into a trot if the Archdemon himself was chasing them.”  He slapped his knee, enjoying his own joke.  “No, you’ll be riding one ‘a these.”

 It turned out the truth was even worse than my expectations.  While the carriage horses were indeed enormous, they were completely placid – too stupid to get startled, according to the elderly elf.  There were a variety of breeds used for riding in Thedas, but most of them seemed to share certain characteristics, including being exceedingly cranky and high-strung.  Samuel walked me through the stable, a large, drafty building that smelled of hay and manure, pointing out animals in stalls to either side. 

 There were striders and coursers, forders and chargers…I couldn’t have recalled a single detail about any of them, if asked later.  They seemed large enough to me, if not quite as burly as the carriage horses, but they all seemed just sort of…nervous.  They neighed and whinnied and shifted as we passed, and the one Samuel pulled out for me was no exception.  It was saddled already, dancing around on the end of the leash – reins, he informed me, not a leash – snorting and pawing at the ground.

 Samuel handed me an apple and advised me to hold out my hand.  Terrified, I almost couldn’t look, taking the apple and turning away as I thrust the fruit in the direction of the tall, brown beast.  To my relief, it didn’t take a finger as it took the apple and ate it in two large bites, and I relaxed somewhat.  Its lips were soft and pliable, and it tickled as it touched my hand.  However, evidently one apple wasn’t enough, and it began snuffling at me, blowing air through its nose and mouthing at me looking for more. 

 I giggled, half amused, half hysterical, and jerked away from its questing muzzle.  This was the wrong choice, evidently.  With a whinny, it yanked its head away and reared back, pulling Samuel half off his feet before he managed to calm it down.  The elf stepped to the side, slapping it on the neck and crooning to it softly, and it settled again.

 “Careful, my Lady,” he said, turning to me once he had it under control.  “You scared the poor girl.  Slow movements, that’s the key.  Sadie here wouldn’t hurt a fly on purpose, she just likes apples.  Come, try again.”

 “ _I_ startled _her_?” I grumbled, stepping forward with exaggerated motions.  The elf took my hand and brought it to Sadie’s neck, urging me to stroke her short fur softly.  She stood still, watching me with one eye, but I took a deep breath again as nothing bad happened.

 Taking my hand, he pulled me closer, handing me a nearby brush.  “I think you both need to get a bit used to each other,” he informed me.  “Best way to get on a horse’s good side is to take off her saddle and give her a good grooming.”

 I spent the rest of the morning brushing Sadie after learning the basics of a saddle.  I was sure, being apparently a noblewoman, that I wouldn’t be saddling my own horse often, but it made sense to understand how – if we had a problem while out riding, I’d need to be able to troubleshoot it on my own.  Samuel informed me we’d try actual riding the next day.  I was slightly less nervous after watching Sadie almost purr with delight as I brushed under her saddle.

 I spent my lunch hour and a couple of hours after that being grilled by Seneschal Varel on table manners and forms of address for fellow nobles as well as the various functionaries I’d be surrounded by.  Dull but necessary, he assured me.  I sighed, secretly vowing vengeance on Cailan for putting me into the position. 

 I used the rest of my afternoon practicing with a quill and ink; I’d gotten ahead in my reading, thanks to a very boring youth spent speed-reading as a form of escapism and an early night with an exhausted husband.  By the end of the day I was covered in ink and smelled like a horse, and I ended up joining a grimy Alistair in the shower when he appeared from the basement.

 “I think we’ll break through tomorrow,” he crowed, happy to be done with digging.  “Then we can guard that barrier door while Voldrik fixes it, and be done down there.”

 We ate in the dining room that evening, and even had just enough energy to make love before falling asleep intertwined in our room.

 My horse riding the next day was a challenge; it seemed Sadie could sense my fear, and she’d move every time I tried to swing up into the saddle.  I fell a couple of times, not injuring myself badly, but getting more than my share of bruises; once, when I managed to get my foot in the stirrup and heave myself up, she shifted a different way so I tumbled across her back and found myself on the ground on the opposite side.  Samuel covered his mouth, trying to hide his laughter as I cursed a blue streak and climbed to my feet again.

 I finally managed to mount once, and the elf led Sadie around a ring a couple of times so I could get used to the feel of sitting on horseback.  It was a bit exhilarating, I had to admit, feeling the powerful animal move under me.  I raced inside after, changing and cleaning up quickly, wishing someone was around for me to share my excitement with.

 I’d just finished up a very quiet lunch alone in the dining room when I saw a filthy, blood-streaked Sergeant Maverlies run through the main hall screeching the seneschal’s name.  I abandoned my plate and chased after her, arriving breathless at Nathaniel’s door just in time to see Varel run past me the other direction.  Nate was even paler than normal, struggling to maintain a calm facade as he fired incomprehensible instructions at Maverlies, who was nodding frantically.  She also ran off, leaving me with the shaken nobleman, and less than no idea what was happening.

 “What is it?”  Nate blanched, refusing to meet my eyes.  “Nate?”

 “They found more darkspawn than they expected.  The tunnels are full of them.”


	122. Basements are Bad

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two: Basements are Bad

 

 “The Wardens found more darkspawn than they expected inside the Keep’s basement,” Nate informed me.  “There are apparently multiple camps within the tunnels, many on the inside of the barrier door.  The Commander assumes that they were assembling there for the assault you warned us about.  They were apparently not prepared to attack, but the first skirmish got them a lot of attention. He’s asked for reinforcements; he’s not sure they’ll be able to hold the tunnels.”

 I gasped, and Nathaniel stepped over to me, gesturing at a chair like he thought I’d need to sit down.  “Varel’s gone to mobilise the rest of the Legion and the remaining soldiers.  It’s going to be okay.  Maverlies said no one was badly injured.”  He left the obvious ‘yet’ to his statement unspoken.

 I shook my head at the proffered chair.  “I need my armour.  I’ll meet you in the courtyard.  But Nate…don’t assume the darkspawn in the tunnels are the only ones.  Leave some soldiers at the gates in case there’s more.  They’ve surprised us before, and the Architect may know I’m here.  We don’t really know what he’s capable of.”

 Nathaniel nodded, but appeared to be opening his mouth to say something.  I didn’t give him a chance to object, racing away to my room to gear up.

 My armour had been cleaned and hung on its stand; briefly grateful for efficient servants, I scrambled into the set of blood-red leather, cursing at the time it took, strapping my daggers to my hips and patting my helmet into place.  I left again at a run, and met a now-armed Nathaniel in the courtyard organising squads of soldiers.

 He had closed the Vigil’s gates, I noticed; they’d only help so much in their sagging state, but archers had been placed on the walls, split between watching outside for more darkspawn, and watching the basement door.  _I wonder if those gates will keep more darkspawn out of the Vigil, or in?_   Soldiers were hastily erecting barricades around the basement door, and armed men seemed to be occupying every open spot in the courtyard.

 Nate gestured to me to join him, and I headed over to see what was going on.

 “What’s happening?”

 “The Legion will be headed in as soon as they’re all gathered.  I’m setting up rotations for the soldiers so we can ensure adequate coverage for as long as necessary.  I’ll be sending down the first group in a few minutes.  Would you care to take command of the gates?  After the Blight, you’ve probably got as much experience as any of the captains.”

 I shook my head.  “I’m going down.  For reasons I don’t have time to explain, the Wardens are going to need me.”

 “You have to let your husband do his job, Sierra.  I know you want to make sure he’s safe…”

 I interrupted him.  “This isn’t about that.  Yes, I want him safe.  But Nate, I have specific skills when it comes to the darkspawn.  I can sense them.  I’m going down.  I just want to do a check at the gates and make sure there aren’t any coming over land.”

 Without waiting for his response, I jogged up the slight incline and climbed a ladder leading up to the ramparts above the courtyard.  I made my way to the section closest to the gates, closing my eyes and trying to listen to my internal taint sensation.  I could feel vague tingling, though I couldn’t be sure whether it was wardens or darkspawn, but coming from below – nothing from outside the gates.

 I made my way back down, signalling to Nate that I was going to go into the basement.  He shook his head and beckoned, but I ignored him and slipped through the door with a group of Legionnaires heading down.  I heard a shout as the door slammed behind me, but ignored it too.  _If he thinks anything is going to keep me from going to Alistair, he’s got another thing coming._   I raced down a set of stairs, through an empty dungeon, and down a long winding corridor behind Trevian and a handful of Legionnaires, barely noticing my surroundings.  What I did see didn’t line up particularly well with my recollection from the game, though there were multiple doorways and halls we didn’t enter, so I couldn’t be sure.

  _I hope someone found and re-killed the undead I suspect are down here somewhere._

 It took several agonising minutes to wind through the tunnels in the labyrinthine basement; whoever had built the catacombs down there – the Avvar, if I remembered correctly – deserved to be slapped upside the head.  We were well outside of the Vigil’s walls and the tunnels just kept on going, periodically descending deeper and deeper underground.

 The sound of fighting was the first sign we were getting close, the clanging of metal against metal echoing down the corridor.  I pushed my way through the clump of dwarves as they stopped to get their shields in place and draw their weapons; I’d seen the shield walls the Legion seemed to favour, and there was no question they were effective, but I wasn’t going to waste the time getting there.  I didn’t need protection from the darkspawn; I just needed to find my husband.

 One of the Legionnaires shouted as I pushed past them, and Fargrim, the arrogant one, reached out to grab my arm.

 “Get behind us, you daft woman!  Rushing in there is only going to get you killed.”

 I shook him off and pressed forward to the sound of dwarven cursing and the clattering of shields rapidly snapping into position behind me.  I ignored it, racing around the last couple of twists, eagerly looking for my husband and my friends ahead of me.

 I hesitated only for a moment when I finally came upon them.  Alistair and a couple of Legionnaires were holding off a large group of darkspawn, primarily hurlocks with a few genlocks scattered throughout, with the support of the two mages and Leliana with her bow.  Anders froze darkspawn into grisly statues, which Solona smashed with magically hurled chunks of rock; Leliana picked off strays and stragglers with precision. 

 The other Legionnaires and soldiers, several of them looking somewhat worse for wear, worked frantically trying to move debris – rock, smashed furniture, whatever they could get their hands on – to block the main part of the passage, trying to limit how many of the tainted creatures could approach at once.  When someone was hurt, another Legionnaire would trade out with him while Anders patched up the wounds as best he could without using up his mana reserves.  Alistair looked uninjured, moving easily, spattered with black darkspawn blood but none of it the red colour of his own.

 I fell onto the darkspawn on Alistair’s unprotected flank; he grunted in surprise, but saved his breath as we effortlessly fell back into our fighting pattern, instinctively moving together and slaughtering the darkspawn trapped by the temporary barrier swinging into place.  The rest of the Legion weren’t far behind me, and the onslaught caused the rest of the creatures to fall back even further, giving the beleaguered group a bit of a breather.

 I’d sort of forgotten how much I hated the Deep Roads; if for no other reason, I hated how it messed with my darkspawn senses.  There could have been ten or a hundred darkspawn in the tunnel ahead; I concentrated on trying to feel them, but the corruption in the very stone stymied me.  I sighed.

 One of the wounded Legionnaires began piling darkspawn bodies for burning as I turned to examine my husband critically.  I pulled a rag out of a pouch attached to my armour, offering it to Alistair to wipe ichor off his face.  He used it and then pulled me in for a quick, chaste kiss.

 “Whatever are you doing here?”

 “You thought I’d let you keep all the fun to yourself?”

 He groaned and squeezed me harder.  I thought he was going to say something about me staying safe, and was prepared to pinch his ear in retaliation, but he surprised me.  “Thanks,” he whispered, before we were interrupted by an irate dwarf – or rather, a couple of them.

 “What in the name of the Ancestors do you think you were doing, pushing ahead alone?” Fargrim demanded.

 At the same time, Sigrun, who’d been fighting on Alistair’s other side, turned to growl at my husband, “You should have traded out when it was your turn, Commander.  Doesn’t do anyone any good if you’re too exhausted to fight later.”

 I chuckled, and Alistair grinned beside me.  He assured Fargrim that I was in no danger from darkspawn and didn’t need a babysitter, while I pulled Sigrun aside and quietly explained about Grey Warden stamina.

 “Stamina or not, no one can fight for an hour straight without paying for it,” she whispered urgently.  “Everyone else was rotating in and out to get a rest.  He needs to pace himself or he’s going to get himself – or someone else - killed.”

 “I’ll watch him, I promise.”  I sighed.  “Honestly, though, if he’d backed off you might not have been able to hold out.  No one else who was down here uses a shield?”

 We had a brief conversation about Legion tactics, which largely involved keeping the shield-wall members together.  So when the group had to split, typically the rogues and two-handed weapon fighters went one way, while the shield warriors went the other.  Sigrun’s group consisted of dual-wielders and two-handers exclusively.  And we’d sent Bel and Rolan – the only two other shield-wielding Wardens – to patrol the Pilgrim’s Path.

 After a discussion with Trevian and Fargrim, Alistair clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention.  He pointed to a group of four soldiers huddled together, looking frightened.  _I did too, my first time encountering darkspawn._   The four of them were probably barely twenty, by their look. 

 “You, I need you to block this passageway completely.  Use anything you can find; I’ll deal with the Arl later if he has a problem with it.  Leave a gap just large enough to fit one human through at a time.  Voldrik can help you.  You four,” he pointed at another group of slightly more experienced-looking soldiers, “guard them and the gap.  The rest of us are going in as soon as we’ve had a chance to catch our breath.  There’s at least another forty or fifty darkspawn down there, and I’m not sure how far away that barrier door is.  When the rest of the soldiers arrive, have them slip through the barricade and set up positions on the other side in case we miss any darkspawn.  No darkspawn can be allowed to get into the Keep.  Understood?”

 It was sexy watching ‘Commanding Alistair’ tell everyone what to do.  His confidence, so shaky in the original video game, was amazing to watch.  I stared at him with hunger in my eyes; he smirked and winked at me when he caught my expression, and I knew it was a promise: _later_.

 He looked around and everyone nodded.  The soldiers he’d pointed out headed back down the hall behind me, opening side doors and looking for stuff to use as a barricade.  Anders and Solona were already crouching down, checking out any remaining injuries.  One of the fresh Legion scouts brought around water skins for those who’d been fighting for a while already, and Alistair drank almost an entire one, wiping his mouth with the back of his gauntlet when he’d gulped as much water as he could hold.

 I turned my back to the crowd, lowering my voice so no one else could hear me.  “Are you okay?”  I rolled my eyes when he automatically nodded.  “No, really.  You’ve been fighting for a long time; you must be exhausted.  Are you really going to be up for this?”

 He sighed, rubbing his face.  “Don’t have much choice.  Besides, I’ve got this.”  He reached under the belt I knew he stored small healing potions in, and drew out a tiny yellow vial to show me.  “It’s not much, but it’ll keep me on my feet if I get too tired.”

 “Alistair, don’t you remember Anders telling you how dangerous stamina potions can be?”

 “Only if you use them too often, or take too much.  Or if you use them to keep going when you’re injured.  It’s just a little one.  The only one, I promise.”

 “I’ll hold you to that.”  I sighed.  I couldn’t say much; I had a similar vial tucked into my armour somewhere for emergencies too, along with a spare Lyrium potion and a couple of healing poultices and potions.  “What’s the plan?”

 My husband looked at me, reluctance warring with necessity clearly on his face.  He echoed my sigh.  “Do you think you can get past them and see what shape that barrier door is in?  We need to close it before more of them start pouring through.”

 I nodded, reaching up to touch his cheek softly with my gloved hand.  “I’ll be in much less danger on my own than standing with you all.”

 “Unless the Architect is there,” he muttered worriedly.

 “He’s not there.  He wants to kidnap Wardens alive, not kill them.  Which isn’t particularly reassuring, I’ll grant you, but he wouldn’t be allowing this sort of an attack if he knew.  Too much chance of killing the endless blood suppliers he’s hoping for.”

 Alistair shuddered at the mental image, and I smiled wanly.  “Get a tiny bit of rest, and get everyone ready.  I’m going to go talk to Voldrik about that door.  I don’t know what to expect as far as damage goes, but I want to be prepared to close the damn thing if possible.”

 “No heroics, Sierra.  I mean it.  Get a look, and get the void out of there.”

 I leaned in for another quick kiss.  “I promise.”

 I left him to make arrangements with the Legion and the rest of the soldiers, a group of whom had come streaming into the chamber; I had to search for a while before I spotted Voldrik.  I hadn’t been introduced to him before, and at first looked vaguely among the Legion dwarves, before spotting the older brunette standing with a couple of the soldiers Alistair had assigned to create a barricade. 

 “Voldrik?”

 He turned and gave me a once over, gaze hovering over my daggers – currently dripping darkspawn ichor – before he made eye contact.

 “Aye?  And who’re you, then?”

 “I’m the…um, well, I’m going to be scouting ahead to see how far we are from that barrier door.  I was hoping you could give me a quick lesson on how to close those things, or repair them if necessary.  We believe the door was either not quite completed, or possibly damaged.”

 “You’re going in there alone?  Better you than me, I suppose.  I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell you much about it, lass.  I’ll have to see it to know what needs fixin’.”

 “Alright, but at least tell me the basics?  I know how to open one, but not close it.”

 He spent a few minutes drawing in the dirt with a finger, showing me how to close a functional barrier door.  It didn’t improve my confidence at all.  _At least I’ll be able to judge the numbers and see what’s waiting on the other side._   I nodded my understanding to Voldrik, who clapped his hand on my shoulder sympathetically.

 “You get me to the door, I’ll fix it.”  He smiled and then turned back to the growing barricade.

 I found Alistair talking to Trevian and Fargrim.  He turned to me as I approached and forced a smile, eyes tight with stress.  “You ready?”

 I nodded and leaned in to him briefly, trying to absorb some confidence, before turning away and resolutely walking up to the barrier.

 “Where do you think you’re going?” Trevian asked, but I ignored him and took a deep breath, making eye contact one last time with Alistair before ducking through the small gap remaining.  I heard an exclamation from behind me in dwarvish, and assumed the Legion commander was swearing; Alistair was answering him, so I put it out of my mind and looked forward instead of back.

 The hallway leading into the room we’d fought in continued to lead deeper underground, but to my relief stayed quite wide as far as I could see before curving out of sight.  One side of the rough-hewn corridor had darkspawn standing against it at intervals, most of them watching the barricade; I wondered if I was imagining the hungry expressions on their ruined faces.  Some of them waited listlessly, while others appeared to be attempting to sharpen weapons or repair their rough armour; all of them ignored me entirely.

  _I wonder what they’re waiting for?_

 I edged along the opposite side of the hall, stepping carefully to avoid drawing attention to myself, but it was probably unnecessary.  The darkspawn shifted and grunted, the sounds echoing down the hall, and I doubted they’d have heard me if I had fallen, never mind the quiet whisper of a kicked pebble.  _I’m still not taking any chances._   I wondered if the hoots and other vocalizations constituted communication, or if they were just random noise.

 I counted twenty-five darkspawn in the corridor visible from the barricade, and slowly crept around the corner to the area previously hidden from sight.  There were more darkspawn there, still largely waiting around aimlessly, in a much larger chamber than I’d seen up to that point.  The creatures seemed to segregate themselves somewhat by race, to my grim amusement, and a number of hurlocks bunched together staring suspiciously at a slightly larger group of genlocks.  A flicker of movement in a back corner informed me there were probably a couple of shrieks hiding there, and the opposite corner even held a massive ogre, currently crouched down on its haunches, disconsolately picking at its massive, pointy teeth with a clawed fingernail. 

 It was enormous from this close, and a stench, worse than the rest of the Deep Roads, emanated from where it stood.  It was wearing scavenged bits of armour almost at random; it had a massive sheet of studded metal wrapped around one forearm, and I wondered, as I stared at it, if it had once been a leg plate from a set of plate armour.  It had a leather belt around its waist, another strip of leather wrapped around one shoulder like a bandolier, and some bits of metal wrapped around its powerful bicep and calves.  As with most darkspawn, it wore a tattered wrap of cloth around its middle, hiding whatever passed for private parts from view, for which I was grateful.

 It took me a moment to note that, beside the ogre, there was a hurlock, and they appeared to be actually talking.  I blinked and looked again.  The hurlock wore a sheet of chain links over his head like a hood, a thick leather cloak around his shoulders, and a set of apparently well-made chainmail covered the rest of him.  His voice was guttural, as he spoke to the enormous ogre, but I couldn’t mistake that the words were in English.  _Common._

 “…the Father demanded.  Be leaving the tainted ones to us.  We will be sending the signal, and then, destroy all.  Yes?”

 The ogre grunted, and to my horror, nodded like a person would, before turning away and reaching a lazy hand into a pile of refuse behind him, pulling out a lump of flesh – darkspawn, by the blackened corruption – and beginning to chew on it noisily.  _At least it didn’t speak._   I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have run away screaming in horror if it turned out the ogre was one of the Architect’s ‘Disciples’.  _Hopefully even that psychopath sees the problem with ‘liberating’ ogres._   The hurlock, who I’d realised must have been ‘the Withered’ from the start of Awakenings, turned away with a look that would have been disgust if a person had worn it, and walked toward the clump of hurlocks I’d seen earlier, growling something unintelligible.

 Startled from my horrified fascination with the talking darkspawn, I went the opposite way, hurrying to the back of the room and the next hallway beyond it.  There were fewer darkspawn there, and these seemed less disciplined somehow; two of them fought each other over what looked like some damaged leather armour, while the others scratched themselves, laid on the floor apparently sleeping, or just stood around looking bored. 

 I froze.  Beyond them, clearly visible, was a large ring of metal surrounding the corridor entirely.  I almost cheered out loud.  _The door!_   I couldn’t see the mechanism from where I stood, so I inched closer to see if I could step through.  There was a genlock lounging nearby, oblivious to the purpose of the enormous metal structure he was leaning against and to my presence; I held my breath and edged past him, so close he could have touched me without sitting up.

 Nothing happened.  I snuck through the door, and the darkspawn continued to ignore my presence.  I breathed a sigh of relief when I reached the other side and could see the entire door mechanism.  There were no more darkspawn in sight, so I spent a few minutes examining the huge apparatus.

 I was no expert on dwarven machinery, but it didn’t look good.  There were pieces that I was sure should have been attached together that weren’t, and bits of thick wire sticking out at odd angles.  The entire door looked somewhat crooked.  Whatever was wrong with it, I wasn’t going to be able to fix it.

 I swore silently.  I’d had visions of being able to close the door myself, cutting off the darkspawn on the other side from their reinforcements.  Clenching my teeth in irritation at Rendon Howe – what sort of irresponsible ass left an open Deep Roads entrance in their basement? – I turned to go back, but changed my mind and instead went further in.  _I need to know how many more darkspawn are waiting down here._

 The corridor where the barrier door sat was around a steep corner from whatever lay beyond, and I crept up to the edge, peering beyond.  It was dark, more so than most of the Deep Roads, as no lava flowed through.  I could tell, by the sound and the way the air felt, that I’d come across a vast chamber, no narrow hallway.  The walls of the corridor had been smooth stone, but as far as I could see from where I stood, the cavern was rough-hewn and irregular.  I wondered if it had been carved by dwarves or enlarged by darkspawn.

 I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dim light; there were specks of brighter light in the distance that, as my vision sharpened, became obvious as campfires.  And there were at least a dozen of them spread out for hundreds of feet in front of me.  I didn’t know how many darkspawn gathered by each fire, but even if there were only a handful, there were more darkspawn than the Vigil could manage to fight off.  The sounds echoing around the cavern made it seem worse than it was, I assumed, but the cacophony made my blood freeze.

  _Maker’s breath, there could be hundreds of them._


	123. Closing Doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, Happy Hanukkah, Happy New Year, Happy Satinalia, and Happy any other holiday I missed. And Happy New Year!
> 
> This will be the last chapter posted before the holidays. Due to family and craziness, the next chapter will likely come out Jan 9, not the 2nd. 
> 
> Hey, at least it isn't a cliffhanger!

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Three:  Closing Doors

 

I stared out into the distance for a few moments, trying to get a sense of how many darkspawn were out there; it was far too dark for me to tell, and as always in the Deep Roads, my Warden sense wasn’t working right.  I cursed; I could do nothing – not about the door, or the horde.

 I turned back the way I came and crept back through the darkspawn-infected hallways and caverns.  Fortunately the ogre hadn’t moved, however most of the hurlocks and genlocks had pressed up closer to the corner nearest the makeshift barricade the soldiers had been building.  The Withered was standing with a small clump of hurlocks, growling at them in what I could only assume was some sort of darkspawn language.  He was out of my way, so I ignored him for the moment. 

 Sneaking through the throng to round the corner and reach the barrier must have cost me a decade of life expectancy; there were times I was close enough to feel the unnatural heat radiating off the creatures as I wended my way through.  If one of them had moved at the wrong time, even just to swing an arm, I would have been caught.  My only consolation was that the Wardens were nearby, and would be able to attack without delay if I had shouted.  But I remained lucky; I could see a couple of genlocks sniffing around with confused expressions as the air near them stirred, but none of them touched me.

 Past the darkspawn, there were a couple of corpses left lying on the ground; I gathered there must have been another skirmish between darkspawn and the forces of good. 

 I rounded the corner to discover that, in my absence, the Wardens and Legionnaires had set up a post on this side of the makeshift barricade.  _That must have been when the skirmish happened._   Obviously they knew the darkspawn weren’t far, and the darkspawn clearly knew the Wardens’ location also; they were at an impasse as each side debated what to do.  A flimsy shelter had been assembled, allowing the forces standing there to at least avoid arrows; Fargrim, most of the Legionnaires, more of Nate’s soldiers, and Solona and Anders were standing there when I walked up.

 The two mages patted me on the shoulders as I passed them, and I shot them a tremulous smile; Fargrim, the rest of the dwarves, and the soldiers all stared at me, mouths open, speechless.  I’d have giggled if I hadn’t been so terrified.  The dour, pale-haired second-in-command left his fellows there and followed me as I ducked through the barricade.

 I walked directly into Alistair’s arms when I straightened on the other side; he held me protectively, his handsome face going from relief to concern as he felt me shaking.  Now relatively safe, the enormity of what we faced suddenly crashed down on me,.  _What are we going to do?_   I vaguely heard questions being asked by Fargrim and Trevian, and Leliana’s sweet lilt responding, but I couldn’t even understand the words as I just clung to Alistair and tried not to pass out.  I was gasping great, big gulps of air, I realised, and I consciously tried to slow them down and pull myself together.

 Finally my shuddering slowed to a halt, and Alistair put his hands on my shoulders, pushing us apart enough that he could see my face.  He’d been talking to me, clearly, trying to calm me down, and only now did his voice filter through to my conscious mind.

 “Love?  Hey, it’s okay.  You’re safe now.”

 I shook my head, clearing it.  “No.  I’m not, and neither are you.  None of us is safe.”

 I prepared to tell him everything I knew: perhaps fifty or sixty darkspawn between us and the barrier door, including at least one disciple, and one ogre who appeared…smarter than the average; a completely broken barrier door that would take more than me to repair; hundreds of darkspawn just on the opposite side of the door.

 I looked around, finally remembering that there were others around who perhaps shouldn’t be hearing what I had to say; Leliana had apparently shooed them all away while I had my meltdown, and was standing at a short distance, guarding us from eavesdroppers.  I smiled gratefully at her, and she nodded back, uncharacteristically serious.  _She saw me lose it; she knows we’re in trouble._   The only other people within range were the Legion of the Dead leaders Trevian and Fargrim, Nathaniel, and Varel.

 Alistair blanched as I told my story; Nathaniel and Varel grew still, faces grey.  Trevian swore loudly in dwarvish, his meaning obvious even without understanding the language.  All the while I spoke, Fargrim stared at me, barely listening, from outward appearances, but instead looking at me – through me, it felt – as though what I looked like, who I was, was more important than what I was saying.  His gaze never faltered, though his expression remained unreadable; I thought the derision he’d seemed to regard me with before was absent, but that could have been my imagination, or a trick of the dim light.  I tried to ignore him and focus on Alistair.

 “I don’t know what we’re going to do,” I finished.  “We can’t fight that many, and we can’t repair the barrier door without a fight.  I can get to the door, but it’s going to be obvious if I start tinkering with it, and honestly nothing I can do is going to make the difference.”  I gulped a breath, closing my eyes in horror.  “We’re going to be overrun.  The Vigil is going to be overrun.”

 There was a long moment of stunned silence as everyone let that sink in.  _After everything, we’re doomed._   It was a close fight not to cry.

 Finally Alistair spoke.  “What if…maybe Dworkin?  Bury them all under a ton of rock and debris.  They’ll dig through eventually, but it buys us enough time to deal with them…”

 Trevian replied, “Too risky.  You should have seen that maniac’s explosion in Kal’Hirol.  You’re not unlikely to lose the whole Keep to a sinkhole.  No, better we hold this barricade for as long as possible while you send messengers to that king of yours.  Maybe Queen Sereda could even be convinced to help?”

 “That will take weeks.  The army is fragmented by now; it will take time to mobilise any sizeable force.  We’ll never hold that long with our current forces; everyone needs to eat and sleep sometime.  And Amaranthine will pay the price if we can’t hold the Vigil.”  Nathaniel’s voice was bleak, resigned.  _He thinks we’re going to die._   He turned to Varel.  “Send messages off to the king and Orzammar.  Evacuate the civilian population at the Vigil and send letters to evacuate Amaranthine.  We will hold as long as we can, and the last to fall will trigger every explosive Dworkin can rig up to buy the army time.”

 “No.”  The rough voice of Fargrim startled me, and I turned to look at him in surprise.  “This is why the Legion exists.  This is why the Ancestors allowed the Wardens to save us.  We are not losing this fight.”

 Trevian stirred.  “’Grim…”

 “No, Trev.  We can do it.”  He turned to Leliana and gestured.  “Bring Voldrik over here.”

 When the auburn-haired dwarf arrived, expression dour as always, Fargrim turned to me.  “Describe the door.”

 Taken aback, I described the state of the barrier door hesitantly, from the disconnected metal rods to the door itself hanging slightly askew.

 Fargrim turned to Voldrik.  “How long?”  When the engineer blinked in confusion, he clarified, “How long to fix it?”

 Voldrik considered.  “With a bit of help and a lot of luck, half an hour.  An hour without luck.”

 Fargrim nodded.  “We can do it.  We can buy an hour.”  He pointed at Nate.  “Your soldiers are going to get their blades wet today.”  He turned to me.  “You’d better be right about this, Princess.”

 Alistair bristled, but Fargrim ignored him and began laying out his plan.

 ***

Less than an hour later, every melee fighter that could be spared was assembled on the far side of the barricade, leaving only archers, led by Nathaniel, watching the gate.  Leliana had been dispatched on the fastest horse in Nate’s stables to find Aedan; other messengers had been sent to Denerim, Amaranthine, and the Pilgrim’s Path for Conrad.  Every shield that could be found or improvised was equipped; even I held a small, round, wooden shield on my left arm, the weight uncomfortable and yet somehow comforting.

 I’d had only a moment to cling to Alistair, despair and hope warring with each other as I kissed him desperately.  And then we were formed up and I could barely even see him.

 He and a handful of the more experienced soldiers led the formation.  Out to either side of him in a loose wedge, every soldier Nathaniel could spare stood shoulder-to-shoulder, several rows deep.  Anders and Solona stood behind Alistair, ready to cast, with every Lyrium potion we could scrounge up in the backpacks they carried.  And behind them came the Legion, with me and Voldrik sandwiched in the middle.

 The plan was the best we had; the wedge would go in like an icebreaker, forcing the darkspawn to divide down the middle and make a gap.  In their wake, the Legion of the Dead would charge through.  I’d seen the tactic before, in reverse, down in Bownammar; the Legion were the ones making the hole for the Wardens, then, but the concept was the same. 

 The entire Legion shield wall, led by Fargrim, would go first through the gap to plow through any darkspawn that didn’t get sidelined by the soldiers; they wouldn’t stop until they’d passed the barrier door.  The other Legionnaires – rogues and two-handed fighters, led by Trevian – would follow to defend from behind, staying on the near side of the door.  Voldrik and I would be in the middle, him to repair the door, me as a last line of defense for him if all else failed.

 The goal for the shield wall was to hold the narrow hallway beyond the barrier doors until Voldrik had the mechanism working, then retreat just as the door swung shut.  The other Legionnaires would help fight the sixty-or-so darkspawn on the near side, keeping them off Voldrik.  I’d be able to move more freely, dividing my time between aiding Voldrik, holding the hallway, and helping out the Wardens and soldiers as needed.

 It was a terrible plan.  A truly, dismally, horrible plan…but it was all we had.  Dworkin had rigged the hallway near the barricade with explosives as a last resort, and a small group of soldiers would remain at the barricade to trigger them if everything went south.

 We knew the casualties would be high.  No one said it, but the grim determination in everyone’s eyes made it quite clear that no one was oblivious to the cost.  I wondered if _any_ of the shield wall would survive.  The alternative, however, was unthinkable.

 Courtesy of one of the Legion’s rogues, who was rather disturbingly obsessed with poisons, each woman and each Warden in the fight had a suicide capsule secreted in their armor somewhere.  If captured, the poison would cause instantaneous death through massive hemorrhaging; we wouldn’t give the Architect more Warden blood to work with, nor the darkspawn more Broodmothers, if we could help it.  The necessity of such a measure frightened everyone almost as much as the horde we would be facing.

 I wondered if I’d ever see my husband or my brother alive again.

 Once everyone was assembled, with a brief whispered prayer to any god that would listen, we began to march.

 At first, things went to plan.  At the entrance to the large chamber containing most of the darkspawn, the formation paused to allow Solona and Anders to rain down ice and destruction on the waiting ‘spawn.  They weren’t able to do Storm of the Century – Solona’s lightning abilities weren’t that great, and there wasn’t enough time for the casting.  Instead, while Anders alternately froze and boiled darkspawn where they stood, Solona cast mass paralysis to keep them all standing within the area of effect, and then dropped something called a death cloud.  The screaming of darkspawn was deafening, and I breathed a slight sigh of relief.  _Maybe we can do this after all._

And then it all went to hell.  As soon as the spells stopped, the left-hand side of the wedge charged prematurely, leaving the right-hand side following in their wake, confused and trying to catch up. _These are not the seasoned fighters Kardol’s men were; their inexperience shows._ Alistair, supposed to be on point leading the offensive line, ended up being pulled off centre by the slower troops on the right and stuck behind the soldiers as they hit the darkspawn.  I lost sight of him entirely in the confusion.  No gap was created, and the Legion had nowhere to go as the fighting swirled off into chaos.

 With a shout, Fargrim and the shield wall drove into a group of darkspawn on the left, trying to make a path for themselves.  It would have been successful, except the ogre I’d seen earlier took that opportunity to charge, scattering the dwarves like leaves in a strong wind.  Voldrik and I dove out of the way, landing up against a slimy, taint-covered wall beside Trevian and Fargrim, who were frantically trying to reorganize.

 Alistair, with Solona and Anders in tow, surfaced briefly; Anders slowed the ogre with ice, Solona locked it in some sort of nightmare, and as I was dragged away by Fargrim, I saw Alistair drop his shield and leap up to drive his sword into the monster’s neck.

 Trevian was arguing with Fargrim, who held my arm in a vice grip.  Finally nodding, the Legion commander turned and shouted out commands in dwarvish; the Legion slowly reformed into a wedge, Trevian and the others leading now while the shield dwarves snuck off to the side or followed in behind.

 Fargrim shook my arm to get my attention.  “Can you get Voldrik to the door?” he demanded.  “You’re good at sneaking, right?  Can you take him with you?”

 I looked around the room, seeing clumps of men and darkspawn fighting, the ogre already down and my Wardens nowhere in sight.  The edges of the room were largely unoccupied, and none of the darkspawn spared a glance at the three of us standing alone.

 I nodded, unhooking the shield and pressing it into Voldrik’s hands, then drawing my second dagger.  “I think so.  They’ll see him, but I’ll see them first.  We can creep around the edges of the fighting.”

 Fargrim gave me a stoic smile.  “Then we’ll meet you on the other side of this mess.  The shield wall are going to split up and try to make our way there alone while the others draw attention.  Don’t start on the door until at least one layer of shield is between you and the horde on the other side.”

 I nodded, and gesturing to Voldrik, crept down the wall as Fargrim barreled into a nearby genlock and was swallowed by the fighting crowd. 

 Keeping Voldrik well behind me, I moved along the wall carefully, eyes scanning the writhing, shouting mass of darkspawn and soldiers.  I’d catch a glimpse, every now and then, of someone I knew; once I thought I saw Alistair’s shiny helmet, but I lost it again just as quickly.  Corpses were everywhere; there were more darkspawn than human or dwarven, but there was no shortage of either.

 Every time a darkspawn strayed too close to where I was leading Voldrik, I’d motion for the dwarf to stop and sneak in behind, slitting throats and disabling with kidney shots like I’d been taught.  When I was sure the creature was dead, I’d gesture to Voldrik and start creeping along again.  It took much longer than it would have alone; every now and then a darkspawn would spy Voldrik and try for an easy kill.  Even carrying my shield, the engineer looked like a helpless target.  Each time, I’d divert, taking the ‘spawn by surprise and ending them before they reached him.

 We finally reached the barrier door; a double-handful of dwarves had formed a thin shield wall, and when they saw us, they moved into position two deep just past the barrier door.  Voldrik, looking pale but determined, dropped his bag of supplies and began frantically working on the door mechanism.

 I stood nearby, darting in and disabling or killing darkspawn who strayed near us, but the worst of the fighting was at the opposite end of the chamber near where the disastrous wedge had fallen apart.

 At first, the shield wall stood unmolested; there must have been some sort of signal the darkspawn were waiting for, because despite the noises Voldrik’s tools made, none of the horde approached.  Legionnaires trickled in one-by-one; probably two-thirds of them had arrived when Fargrim finally showed up.  The blond dwarf was bleeding from a nasty scalp wound, but waved me off when I offered to at least bandage it. 

 “The ladies like a scar, Princess.  Leave it be.”

 The other Legionnaires within hearing distance chuckled, but I could see despair in his eyes underneath the forced humour.  He leaned in and whispered so I was the only one who could hear, “We’re all that are coming, I think.  Lost a lot of good men trying to find our way here.  We will hold that hallway with our last breaths, if need be – just get that door fixed.”

 I nodded, and he stepped into place with the rest of the shield wall crew, ready for whatever came.  Voldrik asked me to help him hold things a few times as he hammered, and the door mechanism was starting to look more like the functional one I had seen in Orzammar. 

 Trevian and some of the other Legionnaires had finally made it through the chamber and formed up to protect Voldrik as he worked; he and I exchanged grim nods briefly before he turned back to the fight.

 Suddenly there was a shrill whistle of some sort, from the far end of the room – the darkspawn ranks had thinned out dramatically, and despite a staggering loss of life on both sides, it had become obvious that the darkspawn in the chamber were going to lose.  The sound, an unearthly sort of scream I’d never heard before, cut off abruptly; I glanced up to see the Withered run through from behind by Alistair as the last echoes rang through the chamber. 

 The damage was done, though; from the hallway beyond us, howling and screeching echoed as the horde finally gathered itself for a push.  I turned and watched the first ranks of darkspawn sprinted down the hallway, breaking themselves against the shield wall like waves against a cliff.  They were defeated almost too easily, but I knew that wouldn’t last.  Like the cliff, eventually the waves would break it down, and I didn’t think our shield wall had years before it crumbled.   The one saving grace was the narrowness of the hallway, compared to the massive dimensions of the cavern beyond; it took only five dwarves to completely block the hallway, and the darkspawn couldn’t attack _en masse_ or get around to flank the shield wall.

 It was uncomfortably reminiscent of the Spartans defending the pass at Thermopylae, and I could only hope it would be enough.

 “Hurry, Voldrik,” I muttered, more plea than demand; he grumbled something under his breath in return, but I didn’t miss the increasing urgency in his movements as he worked.

 I heard the cry of the first dwarf to fall; I flinched, but the shield wall held, and the dwarf in the second rank stepped forward seamlessly into the hole to keep fighting.  More darkspawn filled the hallway behind, almost trampling each other in their eagerness, but still the dwarves persevered.

 “Voldrik…”

 “Blast it, woman, do you think I’m taking my sweet time with this?  Hold that spring in place, would you?”

 My daggers already sheathed in anticipation, I jumped to the spot he indicated, still distracted by the fighting behind me.  A quick glance showed most of the first rank of dwarves had been killed.

 “Almost,” Voldrik mumbled, cursing briefly before, with a triumphant yell, he hammered something into place; the door, which had been leaning against the side wall, lurched upright with a metallic groan.

 “Got it?” I asked.  The ginger dwarf nodded, and I cheered.  Turning around, I shouted back at the men behind me.  “Fargrim!  Retreat!”

 I heard him acknowledge me, then shout out orders to his men; he counted to three, and they all took a step back in unison, some of the darkspawn falling forward onto the spears in surprise.  He counted again, and the dwarves took another step.

 One of the dwarves fell.  The last one in his row stepped forward, but no one with a spear remained behind him.  Two more steps, and three more dwarves cried out and disappeared from sight.  They were ten feet from the door.  Then eight.

 When it was down to a single rank of dwarves between the door and the horde, Fargrim turned.  His head wound was bleeding profusely, his visage frightening, but the bleak, resigned expression was even more so.

 “We aren’t going to make it.  Close the door.”  Even over the din, I could hear him like he was right beside me.

 I shook my head in denial.  _There has to be some way, some chance.  Maybe if they collapsed the wall and sprinted?_   Voldrik fumbled at the door behind me as I shouted at Fargrim to hurry.

 The dwarf beside Fargrim fell.  The dour leader nodded at me once, seemingly trying to reassure me, and shouted one last time.   

 “Run, Princess.  Run!”

 Voldrik grabbed my arm and half-helped, half-dragged me over the threshold before slamming his fist against the mechanism that closed the door.  With a grinding sound, the door began to swing shut.  I looked back, helplessly, as Fargrim and the other dwarves were dragged down by a handful of genlocks; my last vision was his face, calm, almost serene as he was overcome.

 And then the door clanged shut.

 I resisted dropping to my knees or crying out; I’d seen so much death at the battle against the Archdemon that I thought I might have been hardened against it, but it felt like I had a ragged hole ripped in my guts anyway.  Voldrik clapped me on the arm, and we stood together, stunned, for a brief moment of silence.

 I finally turned to see the battle was over.  While we’d worked on the door, the soldiers and Wardens had destroyed the last of the darkspawn inside.  Groups of bloodstained, exhausted soldiers were circulating, slitting throats and ensuring all the darkspawn were dead; others dragged the corpses to opposite sides of the chamber – the darkspawn piled for burning, the humans and dwarves much more reverently laid out for funerals later.

 The carnage had been incredible.  Roughly sixty darkspawn corpses made a huge pile, and while the human and dwarven dead numbered less than a third of that, it was still a staggering loss of life.  At the far end, I could see Anders and Solona working on the wounded, but I couldn’t see Alistair anywhere.

 I instinctively eyed the growing number of bodies up against the wall before I could stop myself.  _No, he can’t be dead.  Even I can’t believe life could be so cruel._   I resolutely looked away and headed towards Anders, assuming that if anyone knew where my husband was, he would.

 I worked my helmet off as I went, my curly brown hair clumped together by sweat and Maker-knew what else.  I was stopped part way across by Trevian.  “I saw,” he murmured, reaching out to pat my hand.  “Don’t feel bad.  He’d have wanted it that way.”  He studied my face for a moment – I was scowling, brows furrowed, poised to speak – and chuckled sadly.  “We’re already dead, remember?  It was their choice.  All of them.  We gave them the option to stay on the inside if they wanted.  They all knew they wouldn’t be coming back.”

 I sighed, suppressing my tears for later.  “Doesn’t make it better, I’m afraid.”

 He smiled softly.  “I know.”  He looked a hundred years old in that moment; I wondered how many friends he’d lost in the Deep Roads.  “Come on; your husband will be frantic, I’m sure.”


	124. Ripples in Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I need some feedback - I'm trying to plan out how INquisition is going to fit in to this AU. My DA2 characters are set, but I'm not decided on how DAI will play out. So, who do you want to see as Inquisitor - male or female, and which race? Who do you want as their love interest? And you're not necessarily limited to the canon love interests either...Do you want to see other couples form - like Dorian/Iron Bull? I won't violate their attractions - Solas isn't going to go for a male, or a Qunari, for example - but I believe some of the characters from the game who aren't normally romanceable might be open to relationships...
> 
> I have some ideas of my own, but they're not set in stone. So let me know!

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Four: Ripples in Time

 

My reunion with Alistair was hampered by a massive bandage across his left shoulder.  I found him sitting in a crowd of injured soldiers, patiently waiting his turn for Anders to take a look at him.  His armour had been cut off, part of it dented; he’d need a new set eventually.  Someone had wrapped a length of linen bandage around his upper arm and shoulder, and blood was slowly seeping through despite that.

 I launched myself at him, slowing only slightly when I landed on my knees beside him so I didn’t jar his bad shoulder.  I dropped my helmet beside him and wrapped my arms around his torso, pressing my nose into the crease in his neck opposite the bandages.  I felt his fingers weave into my hair, holding me close, as he pressed kisses to the side of my head.  Finally, cradled up to my husband’s chest, I let go and felt the tears rolling down my cheeks, soaking into his sweat-stained under-armour.

 We held each other for a few moments, just revelling in the fact that we were both alive; finally I pushed away, cupping his face in my hands and kissing him softly.

 “I love you, husband.”

 “And I you, wife.”  He untangled his hand from my hair and tried to settle me into his lap; he groaned softly as his injured shoulder protested.

 “What happened here?”  I pulled away from him and reached for the bandages; he slapped my hands away and tried to pull me closer again, ignoring the pain.  “Maker, where’s Anders?”  I turned to locate the healer, but Alistair clamped his hand over my mouth before I could call out.

 “It’s fine.  I lost my shield, and a hurlock got a lucky strike in.  It will be fine.  Anders has much worse to deal with first, love.”

 I scowled at him; it wasn’t that I wanted Anders to stop dealing with life-threatening injuries, but Alistair couldn’t hide the pain in his eyes from me, and I hated seeing him like that.  I wracked my brain for some reasonable excuse to have the healer see to him first, but was saved by Trevian.

 “Commander?  We need you over here.”

 Anders nodded at the dwarf and immediately came over, tutting in frustration at the gash across his shoulder as he peeled back the bandages.  I could barely look; instead I pressed my face up against his other arm and slipped my hand into his tightly.

 “Why didn’t you call me?” Anders scolded Alistair.  “You’ve lost a lot of blood, you great stubborn ox.” 

 Alistair snorted in amusement and I actually let out a half-hearted giggle as I felt the healing magic wash over him.  When it was done, we both stood and Alistair wrapped both arms around me, kissing my forehead softly.  “Talk later?”  I nodded, somehow ashamed that he’d been able to sense my distress when he had other things he should be thinking about.  He lifted my chin and rubbed my nose with his.  I grinned reluctantly, and with one last squeeze, he went to talk to Trevian, Nathaniel, and Varel.

 “Anders, need any help?”

 I spent the next few hours scurrying around delivering healing potions, bandaging minor wounds that didn’t need magic to heal, and helping wounded soldiers back to the barracks.  Solona was recruited to magically incinerate the darkspawn corpses; her skill with fire was only mediocre, so she was completely depleted by the time that was finished despite a couple of Lyrium potions.  Exhausted, she finally went to bed. 

 Trevian, and a few other Legionnaires including Sigrun, used picks they produced from their belongings somewhere to dig trenches in the stone of the Deep Roads near the barrier door and then carefully buried the dwarves who’d died, also making a stone marker to honour Fargrim and the others who’d been lost beyond the door.  They didn’t hold a funeral and declined Varel’s offer to include them in the ceremony that would eventually be held for the soldiers who had given their lives.

 When Alistair was finished giving orders and talking to Nate, the last job that needed to be done was to carry the soldier’s bodies to the courtyard for funerals in the morning.  Instead of helping, Alistair came over and scooped me into his arms, pulling me away from all of the death and horror of the battle.  Initially I protested, between the embarrassment of being carried around, worry about his shoulder, and the desire to help, but Alistair ignored me and made his way carefully to our room.  We had a long, hot bath together; I cried in his arms while he shuddered in mine.  We made love slowly, and then collapsed together in bed to sleep.

 The next day was difficult.  Alistair made a speech about the sacrifices made by good men; I cried some more.  And then pyres for the soldiers were lit; the dwarves excused themselves to their own drunken mourning, but the rest of us respectfully watched the pyres burn down.

 Aedan returned halfway through the afternoon, horrified to learn what he had left for us when he went to Amaranthine, but relieved that we were alive.  Leliana, who must have been even more worried than I had thought, went straight into Nathaniel’s arms for a very public kiss. 

 “What now?” Aedan finally asked, once the initial pleasantries had been finished and we’d been served dinner in the dining room.  “Can they get through that door?”

 I shook my head, just as Trevian entered, replying, “Not likely, Warden.”  The Legion commander, smelling of ale but looking remarkably sober, exchanged respectful nods with Alistair and then turned his attention to my brother.  “Orzammar’s been protected by one just like that for generations.  They’d have to dig tons of rock to get around the mechanism – it’s sunk deep into the walls all the way around.  They’ve never gotten through one before.”

 “Wouldn’t hurt to set up some arcane traps down there as a warning, just in case,” Alistair replied.  “I wonder if Anders knows how.”

 “How did it go in Amaranthine?” I asked, changing the subject.

 Aedan filled us in; he’d made contact with the city guard, cleared the smugglers out of the various dens and secret passages throughout Amaranthine, and then, with the aid of some of Dworkin’s explosives, collapsed the tunnels leading into the city so the Mother’s forces wouldn’t have easy access to the city later on. 

 Nathaniel sighed.  “And Esmerelle really was working with them?”

 Aedan nodded; Zevran handed over several sheets of parchment – detailing payments the smugglers had made to the local Bann – pilfered from the Bann’s own estate, evidently.  Nate handed them to Varel, turning his attention back to Aedan. 

 “Did you speak with my sister?”

 Aedan chuckled.  “Yes.  She still hasn’t forgiven me for that dress.”  I giggled, and Nate grinned.  “I don’t think she’ll be keen on it, but I’m sure you can convince her.”

 I frowned.  “Keen on what?”

 Nathaniel replied, “Well, given Esmerelle’s illegal activities, and what you told me about her and the others forming a conspiracy to take over the Arling, I’ve been assuming I’ll need to replace her as Bann sooner rather than later.  I’ve spoken to Fergus, and he agrees.  I’ve been searching through my father’s papers and correspondence.  So with this, I’ve assembled enough evidence; she’ll be arrested, and I plan to make Delilah the Bann of Amaranthine.”

 “But isn’t she…I mean, forgive me, but she married a commoner.  She’s pregnant!  What will happen to Albert?”

 Nathaniel wrinkled his brow at me, puzzled.  “What do you mean?  He’ll be with her, of course.  He can’t be Bann without a royal decree raising him to the nobility, but nothing can stop her from claiming her noble blood.  Her children will inherit.”

 “If I can be a Prince, she can be a Bann.”  Alistair’s expression was sour as he spoke his title.

 “I just…”  I looked around at the men staring at me in varying degrees of bemusement and confusion.  “Never mind.”

 Nate finally took pity on me.  “It’s not exactly standard, I’ll give you that.  But they are legally married, and to be honest, his skills as a merchant will aid Delilah running the Arling.  She’s a pushover.  Couldn’t bargain for something to save her life.  And she’s happy with him.  I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that. 

 “Besides,” he glanced at Leliana and blushed, “he isn’t the only commoner married to a noble.”

 The bard paled and looked away, expression tortured.

 “Teagan’s proposed to Kaitlyn, then?” Alistair asked, and Leliana sent him a grateful smile as the conversation turned to the likelihood of a winter wedding, or whether the newly-raised Arl would wait for spring.  I made a mental note to talk to Leliana about whatever _that_ was, later.

 The following day, the dwarves were still drunk; the soldiers began the difficult work of cleaning out the basement, including the tainted sections.  Nate and Varel had gone down with them, though I warned them about the possibility of undead Avvar and demons.  Nate asked Varel to write a letter to the Circle later requesting a mage knowledgeable about the undead and the Avvar to be sent to the Vigil – it would be a permanent position, if things worked out.

 Conrad arrived back at the Vigil with Rolan, Bel, and Wulf; he had two elven women in tow, though he seemed to be ignoring them as he looked wildly around the courtyard at the Vigil.  The horses were practically foaming, and Samuel complained bitterly under his breath as he took the reins of the exhausted beasts and led them away.  We’d felt him coming after breakfast, and so Alistair, Zev, Aedan, and I were waiting for him when he arrived.

 “I thought there would be darkspawn?  We saw smoke!”

 It took a few minutes to reassure the senior Warden and his group that we were safe, though he was saddened like the rest of us about the loss of life.  He ruffled my hair with a grin when he learned about my part in the battle, and I swatted at him with an indignant squawk.  _Trust Conrad to lighten the mood._   Convinced that everything was fine and the Vigil wasn’t under attack, Rolan, Bel, and Wulf greeted us and then excused themselves to unpack.

 As we spoke, the two Dalish elves stood behind Conrad, one watching with interest, her sandy blond hair short and reminiscent of Leliana’s style, the other with impatience she didn’t even bother to conceal, reminding me strongly of Morrigan.  She had her arms crossed over her chest, an enormous scowl on her otherwise pretty face marring the intricate tattoo that swirled over her chin and forehead.  Both women had the same tattoos, and while I didn’t recognise the patterns, I did recognise the women. 

 The angry one was Velanna, and the other was her sister Seranni. 

 I turned away quickly before my gaping could give me away; I knew Velanna’s response to a ‘shem’ staring at her was likely to be swift and acerbic.  In the game, you were never given much of a chance to talk to Seranni, though I recalled hearing she was nicer and more sociable than her sister; I still didn’t want to make a bad first impression.  Alistair noted my reaction and raised an eyebrow at me; I shook my head slightly, schooled my expression, and looked back at the two as Conrad introduced them and launched into an explanation of why they were at the Vigil.

 “We got wind of the villagers planning to try to burn out the Dalish, like you warned us, but we got there too late.”  Velanna scoffed, muttering under her breath; Conrad rolled his eyes and continued, “Fortunately no one was killed, but several of the clan’s Hunters were injured and some of the aravels,” he stumbled over the unfamiliar word, and Seranni nodded encouragingly, “were damaged.  Keeper Ilshae informed us that these two, and a handful of others, had left without permission to go and exact revenge.”

 Velanna harrumphed loudly, turning her nose up; Seranni shot her a dirty look and then turned to Aedan with a tentative smile.  “Not all of us.  Some of us were just trying to stop the others.”

 Aedan nodded his understanding, and the petite elf relaxed slightly.

 “So we went after them – we knew there were darkspawn about – and found the camp being attacked.  One of them spoke!  I know you warned us about that, but I still…” he trailed off, shuddered, and then shook his head as if to clear it.  “Anyway, the creature is dead, as are several of the other elves.  The survivors decided to go back to their clan; Seranni asked us to find Velanna, who’d been off on her own when they were attacked, so we did.”

 Aedan gave Conrad a puzzled look.  “And you brought them back with you, because…?”

 The Warden flushed.  “Right.  Well, I was trying to assure them that their clan would be safe, and I thought it might help if they were able to talk with the Arl, you know, maybe make a formal alliance or something.  And then, well…”  He gestured at Seranni helplessly, an expression I couldn’t interpret on his face.  He ran his fingers through his copper hair restlessly as we all turned our attention to the elf.

 She said nothing, just looked down, embarrassed, face flushing under the scrutiny.  I had no idea what point he was trying to get across, so I stared vaguely trying to figure it out.  Something was bothering me, though I couldn’t pinpoint what.  She was somewhat unkempt, smudges of dirt marring her pretty face, but I was more than used to that sort of thing – a year of sleeping in tents with limited facilities while fighting darkspawn will inure you to that fairly quickly.  Her hair was somewhat dull, and strangely thin in places, her complexion much paler than her sister’s healthy tan.

 Just as my observations caught up with me, Velanna snorted with disgust and, in a tone dripping with acid, said, “My sister has been tainted by the darkspawn.  This shem,” Seranni practically growled at her, but she continued, unfazed, “tells us that the Grey Wardens have a cure.”

 I took a deep breath, reeling from the news.  I finally understood what had been bothering me; the sensation of the taint, different than what a Warden felt like, was emanating from the unfortunate elf.  She wasn’t far gone yet, but obviously her hair had started falling out, and her ashen skin was the first phase in the transformation to the melted-wax look all darkspawn shared.

 Seranni turned on her sister, hands on her hips, scowling.  “Velanna, you know full well the Warden said they ‘might’ be able to help me.  He didn’t promise anything.  And with the way you’re acting, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were reluctant to help even if they could!”

 Somewhat chastened, Velanna turned away, shoulders slumped.  Her cheeks flushed and her chin quivered just slightly; it felt like possibly the first glimpse of the real person she was underneath all that excess anger.  _She’s just a person scared she’s going to lose her sister._   I tried to think about how I’d feel if Aedan were the one dying, and suddenly had a lot more compassion.

 It didn’t change the fact that what they were hoping for, a miracle cure, wasn’t what we had to offer.  And I wasn’t even sure if putting Seranni through the Joining was a good idea.  If she died, Velanna would blame us, and I had no idea if the younger elf even had any skills that would be of use.  I didn’t think I’d ever be as pragmatic as some of the Wardens seemed to be, from what I’d read, but surely recruiting someone who couldn’t really help at all wasn’t all that good an idea.

 As all those thoughts worked their way through my mind, I suddenly realised that Aedan, Alistair, Zev, and Conrad were all staring at me.  _Did I just use my outside voice to think all of that?  But no, Seranni isn’t staring at me…_ And then it occurred to me why.  They were wondering if the game covered anything like this.  I shrugged slightly and tilted my head, gesturing to Aedan that I thought we should talk privately.

 Aedan cleared his throat and looked back at Seranni.  “We can…uh, talk about that in a little while.  It looks like Conrad had you all galloping the whole way here; you must be exhausted.”  He turned and motioned to a nearby soldier, who happened to be Maverlies.  “Could you please take these two ladies inside, find Varel and have them assigned quarters, and have baths drawn up?”  She nodded, and he turned back to Seranni.  “Ask one of the servants to bring you to the dining hall when you’re done, and we can talk.”

 Velanna looked about to object, loudly, but Seranni thanked Aedan, then turned, grabbed her arm, and dragged the irate elf inside, resolutely following Maverlies.  We all watched them go, before Zevran surreptitiously followed them after exchanging glances with Aedan.  My brother herded Conrad, Alistair, and I inside, finding a small sitting room somewhere and closing the door.  I sank into a chair, still shaken.  I looked up to find the other three also seated, and back to staring at me.

 I sighed.  “I have no idea what will happen if you offer Seranni the Joining.  In the game, she was kidnapped by the talking darkspawn and became a ghoul, following the Architect around.  Maybe helping him, although she also aided the Wardens when we were captured.  It wasn’t clear what became of her, but presumably she went down into the Deep Roads either with the Architect or on her own, depending.

 “Velanna, on the other hand, would survive.  In the game her sister was a ghoul, and she became a Warden.  But you saw how she is to start with…she was unpleasant.  She’s had bad experiences.”

 Aedan turned to Conrad.  “Did you happen to spend any time with Seranni?  Can she even fight?”

 Conrad winced.  “She’s young,” he replied, which was pretty much answer enough in itself.  “She might be useful though – she mentioned she’s a skilled herbalist.  She might be able to help with potions and things.”

 Aedan looked thoughtful.  “That could be useful; Anders could use the help, and we know we will eventually lose him anyway.” 

 I’d forgotten that I’d told them about Anders needing to go to Kirkwall. 

 I hesitated, then said what I was sure was on everyone’s mind: “What if she doesn’t make it?”

 No one answered, so I kept talking.  “Velanna already hates humans.  She got herself exiled just for the chance at revenge.  If her sister dies, she’ll do something stupid.”

 “Rock and a hard place,” Alistair muttered.

 Aedan nodded.  “If she thinks we might have a cure, and don’t give it to them, we’re in the same boat.”

 “Next question,” Conrad added, “is do we offer the Joining to Velanna?”

 Alistair looked startled.  “Why would we do that?  Why would she do that?”

 “To stay with her sister.  Besides, she may have nowhere else to go.”  I thought about the game, remembering that Velanna disappeared into the Deep Roads one day looking for Seranni.  “The bigger issue is what happens if we do and Seranni doesn’t survive.  An angry Velanna who’s also a Warden doesn’t really appeal.”

 “I suspect she will survive, though.  If she can survive becoming a ghoul without losing her mind, the Joining seems like it would be less…harrowing,” Aedan postulated.

 We all stared at each other silently for a while, thinking furiously.  Finally Conrad stirred.

 “What if…look, this is a weird idea for a Warden, I know, but what if we tell them the truth and let them choose?  I don’t think they’d spill our secrets – Seranni is dying, and Velanna’s got bigger problems to deal with.  Even if they say no, our risk is minimal.  But if they make the choice, then we aren’t to blame if Seranni doesn’t make it.”

 Aedan and Alistair exchanged glances, and then finally nodded.

 “Can I tell them?” I requested.  “Nathaniel’s been telling me I have to be prepared to give bad news, like talk to the families of soldiers who died, for example.  It’ll be good practice.  And maybe, girl-to-girl, it won’t be so intimidating.”

 Aedan stared at me, eyebrows raised, as if doubting my sincerity.  “Do you know something about them you haven’t told us?”

 “What?  No.  I just think…maybe they’ll take it better from a woman, and someone who isn’t a Warden.”

 “Take Wulf with you,” Conrad advised.  “Velanna seemed to be less offended by him than the rest of us.”

 Aedan nodded in agreement, and Alistair just squeezed my hand in sympathy.

 “On another note…Sigrun?”  Aedan turned to Alistair and me.

 I shrugged.  “You know how I feel.”

 Alistair responded at exactly the same moment.  “Take her.”  He looked at me and grinned.

 “So she’s good?”

 “Not as good as you or Zev, but she’s talented with a blade.  And keen, eager, has seemingly endless energy…takes orders well, but not blindly.  She’ll speak up if she’s got a better idea or she’s ordered to do something stupid.  She’d be a good counter to Velanna, from the sounds of things.  The eternal optimist.  And knowledgeable about poisons – she learned from that Legion nut.”  He paused for a minute, grimacing.  “…Maker keep him.  I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead.”

 I suppressed a wry chuckle; that Legionnaire had been nuts, but we’d been lucky to have him.  He hadn’t been in the shield wall, but had been killed by darkspawn during the fight none-the-less.  I was sure he’d be missed by the Legion.

 “Alright, so if that’s it, why don’t you go settle in, Conrad?  And we’ll leave Velanna and Seranni to you, Sierra.”

 I nodded.  Alistair gave me a sweet kiss, and then I went in search of Wulf.  I found the former werewolf eating his bodyweight in food in the dining room.  I asked him to come with me, and with a nod, he finished the food on his plate and followed me.

 I wondered briefly where Varel had put Velanna and Seranni, but was saved having to go on an extensive search by the arrival of both women in the main hall as Wulf and I wandered through.

 “Andaran atish’an, Velanna and Seranni.”  I carefully pronounced the Elven greeting, giving the two elves a formal Grey Warden-type bow. 

 Wulf bowed as well, though stayed characteristically silent two steps behind me and to my left.  Seranni returned my greeting with a smile, but Velanna just raised one irritated eyebrow.

 I sighed.  “If you two don’t mind, could we talk?”

 


	125. Unexpected Results

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the feedback about Inquisitors and Pairings. Of course no two of you asked for the same things, but overall I have some ideas that I think will work - and you all gave me some more ideas to think about. Hope you all keep enjoying!

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Five: *Unexpected Results

 

“If you two don’t mind, could we talk?”

 Seranni nodded, but Velanna sniffed derisively.  “We need to speak with the Warden Commanders, as I understand it, Shemlen.  We don’t have time for idle chatter.”

 I stiffened, annoyed at her continuing rudeness.  _Not that it’s surprising, but…seriously?_  

 Seranni barked something at her in Elvish, and Velanna blanched, softening her tone.  “My sister sickens.  These delays cannot be healthy.  Please.”

 I nodded.  “I have my husband and brother’s leave to speak for them about your…situation.  No more delays, I promise.  Please, follow me.”

 I turned and headed towards the small sitting room, trying to look confident, hoping the two would actually follow me.  I heard a flurry of elvish from Seranni, obviously chastising her sister once again, and then breathed a sigh of relief as several sets of footsteps followed me out of the main hall.

 I motioned to chairs inside the sitting room, seating myself on one after the two sat down; Wulf lingered behind me, foregoing a chair and leaning against the wall imposingly. 

 Velanna eyed me suspiciously.  “Why are you the one we must talk to?”

 “Didn’t jump back quickly enough when they asked for volunteers?” I joked.  Velanna’s expression grew even more annoyed, and I sighed.  “We thought it might be easier for you.  Two large human men can be…intimidating.  We were hoping this would be less uncomfortable.”

 “So a flat-ear and a shem noblewoman were supposed to make us feel at home?  I am not intimidated by two men.”

 “Of course you aren’t,” I muttered, trying to avoid rolling my eyes.  “I am not your typical noblewoman, and Wulf’s upbringing was…unique, but he isn’t from any Alienage.  If you give us a chance, we may surprise you.”

 Seranni and Velanna held a brief, acrimonious conversation in elvish; Velanna flushed, Seranni just looked frustrated, but eventually both nodded their agreement.

 I took a deep breath.

 “What I am going to tell you, you must promise to keep to yourselves.  No one outside of the Grey Wardens knows, and the order is known for keeping their secrets.  Those in Weisshaupt, the home of the original Grey Warden order, would not hesitate to have you killed for this knowledge.  The Wardens here have separated themselves from Weisshaupt, but the risk remains.  However,” I held up a hand to forestall Velanna’s obvious question, “we believe you deserve to know before you make your decisions.”

 “What decision?” Velanna demanded.  Seranni rolled her eyes at her sister, but the mage continued, “Just cure her.  We do not desire any knowledge of your precious Wardens.”

 “I know.  But it isn’t that easy, unfortunately.”

 Seranni squeezed Velanna’s arm in warning.  “We will hear you out.”

 “I need your word that you will not tell anyone the secrets you hear today.  Not your friends or family, not your clan or Keeper.”

 They nodded, Seranni looking curious, Velanna suspicious.  “We give you our word.”  Velanna said it out loud, for which I was grateful.  Seranni’s agreement was apparent.

 I sighed.  “There is no cure for the darkspawn taint.  No one who is infected will survive it.”

 Velanna sputtered indignantly, while Seranni slumped, looking defeated. 

 I held up my hand again.  “However, there is a way to slow down the progression.”  Velanna lapsed into silence, while Seranni just stared at me with tear-filled eyes.  “Normally an infected person would turn into a ghoul within a few days; there is a way to stretch that time out to years.  Thirty, possibly even fifty years.  Enough time to live a mostly normal life, assuming you are infected as an adult.  However, there is a cost.”

 I had both of their attention, and they stared at me as though transfixed.  Neither even made a move to interrupt, which was so out of character for Velanna I nearly laughed.

 “Grey Wardens have purposefully exposed themselves to the taint, in a special ritual that is responsible for the delay.  That ritual makes a person into a Grey Warden, and it is the only way to slow the progression.

 “It is not without risk.  It is very unpleasant.  Some who undergo the ritual will not survive – exposing yourself to the taint is not for the weak.  And those who survive are…changed.  They are stronger, more dexterous, have greater stamina, and can sense the darkspawn; darkspawn can also sense them.  They see the darkspawn in their dreams.  But they also must dedicate their lives to fighting darkspawn. 

 “If you stay, you may visit your clan, but you will never truly be one of them again.  They will not understand the sacrifices you make to save them.  You wouldn’t fit in, even if you tried.  Even those who try to run away…they are still Grey Wardens.  The taint is in their blood.  One day, they will still become ghouls, unless they die first.

 “So that is your choice, Seranni.  Die now of the taint – either as a ghoul or during the Joining – or live a life very different from what you had planned, and die from the taint later.”

 “I’m not much of a fighter.”  Seranni worried at her lower lip with her teeth. “You said I’d have to fight darkspawn?”

 “You’ll learn, if you choose to stay.  We have many talented fighters in the Order.  I couldn’t fight either, when I first met the Wardens.  They’ll assess your skills and help you train in whatever style seems to fit.  And I understand you’re skilled with plants and herbs?  We could use that.  You’ll be able to contribute.”

 “What about my sister?” the blonde asked.

 “We understand that Velanna has been exiled from your clan.  It is possible that returning with a treaty of mutual aid negotiated with the Arl of Amaranthine would ameliorate that, and she could return home…but we would also be willing to offer the Joining to her.”

 “Since Seranni is not an experienced fighter, I suppose this is your way of forcing me to become a Warden?” Velanna snapped.  I could see hurt, resentment, but also fear in her eyes.  _She thinks we’ll let Seranni die if she refuses._

 I sighed again.  “It’s an offer, not a demand.  Your skills would be useful, but you have the option to leave.  We thought you might want to stay together.  Arl Nathaniel,” I refused to call him Arl Howe, “would like the opportunity to make a treaty with your clan, with any nearby clans.  Non-aggression, trade deals, that sort of thing.  So you could go back to your clan.  I’m sure they’d take you when you could guarantee them safe ground in Ferelden.”

 “Why would you do that?” Velanna asked, looking unexpectedly vulnerable.  “I…”

 “We aren’t monsters, Velanna.  I know you’ve had bad experiences.  I’ve seen others with worse, believe me.”  I felt Wulf twitch at my back, and I knew he understood I was thinking about Kallian.  “Elves are treated worse than slaves, and the Dalish are treated like vermin to be exterminated.  I don’t agree with it.  I wasn’t raised to think like that.  The King, the Arl…they’re trying to change it.

 “But among the Wardens, everyone is equal.  No one cares if you’re human, elf, or dwarf, male or female.  All that matters is that you fight darkspawn.  A lot of Wardens were outcasts of some sort – some were criminals, some just didn’t fit in, some acquired the taint and couldn’t survive any other way.  No one asks, and no one cares.  The Wardens are a family – dysfunctional, probably, but always there for each other.  And if you wish to remain with your sister as a Warden, we would not say no.  However, even if only one of you survives, we expect the other to remain with us, and that may be difficult to accept.”

 I turned to Wulf.  “Anything you’d like to add?”

 He shook his head, unkempt mane of hair flying.  “Just that what Sierra says is true.  The Wardens treat me no differently than any of the humans or dwarves.  I hadn’t expected that.  It’s hard work, but it’s fulfilling, too.”

 I turned back to the two women.  “I’ll leave you to talk.  Ask for me or Wulf if you have questions.  But if you choose to stay, we should do the Joining no later than tomorrow morning.”  I gestured at the black veins creeping up Seranni’s arms.  “Wait too long, and the chances of success go down.”

 I left them there with Wulf, and went in search of my husband.  I found him with Aedan and Sigrun; the dwarf was smiling and nodding, and I gathered she’d agreed to become a Warden.  They were telling her she would still be a member of the Legion of the Dead, and she assured them she would gladly give her loyalty to another group who fought darkspawn in any way they could, like the Legion.

 She grinned at me, and I welcomed her warmly, but briefly, before excusing myself.

 “I’m going to go take a nap,” I explained, pulling out of Alistair’s arms.

 “It’s been a rough few days,” Aedan agreed.  “Get some rest; we will see you at dinner.”  He gestured to the door.  “Why don’t you show me just how good you are with those daggers, Sigrun?”  They left together, discussing weapons and sparring.

 “Can I join you?” my husband asked, cupping my cheek with one big hand.

 I looked up at him, his ridiculously handsome face bearing a slight smirk, eyes twinkling, and I shivered slightly at the promise I saw there.  I nodded, and without a word, he took my hand and led me up the stairs.

 Alistair’s lips were on mine the moment our door closed, his hands weaving into my curly hair, and I grabbed a handful of his tunic to hang on as I opened my mouth for him.  His chest was hard and warm under my fingers, and his tongue stroked mine until I moaned, breathless.

 “I thought we were going to be napping?” I panted.

 “Oh, we will.”  He stepped away, pulling his shirt up and over his head, revealing his perfect sculpted abs and shoulders.  “After,” he continued, turning back and stalking towards me.

 I squealed as he scooped me up into his arms and practically threw me at the bed; I scrambled backwards towards the headboard as he prowled after me, crawling onto the bed with a predatory grin.  He reached out and grabbed my ankle, my dress riding up my thighs as he pulled me towards him, and I giggled as his head burrowed down underneath the voluminous fabric of my skirts.

 I stopped giggling when his fingers slipped my smalls aside and his tongue lapped into my folds, grazing my pearl before delving deeper to press into my entrance; he nudged my legs over his shoulders as he thrust into me, and I gasped and writhed under his ministrations.  He’d taken me from drowsy and stressed to almost-orgasmic inferno in mere moments, and I fisted the blankets under me as he began plunging his tongue into me for real.  He brought me to my peak quickly, fingers teasing my pearl, tongue inside me, and I screamed as I came, vision greying out around the edges.

 Alistair licked me gently, prolonging my orgasm and carrying me through several aftershocks, finally pulling away to push up onto his knees, my legs still propped on his shoulders.  He licked his lips in exaggerated fashion before pressing a kiss to one bony ankle.

 “You taste so good,” he murmured, and I blushed – not that anyone would be able to tell with how flushed I was.  My dress was puddled at my hips, and he grinned at me, suddenly almost shy.  “I suppose now would be a good time to take this off?”

 I laughed out loud, swinging my legs down to stand beside the bed, fingers going to the buttons down the front of my gown.  Alistair helped me, and after much giggling and tickling, I finally stepped out of my now-wrinkled dress, tossing it into the hamper with a sigh.  Alistair pulled me to him, and my breasts pressed up against his bare chest, his erection tenting his trousers between us. 

 I slipped off my smalls, then reached down to run my hands over the bulge, making him gasp.  “Now, let’s see what we can do about this, shall we?”

 I unlaced his trousers as he watched, eyes dark; snaking one hand inside as soon as they were loose, I grasped him gently, enjoying the velvet-over-steel feel of his impressive length in my palm.  Growling slightly, he stepped off the bed to shuck his trousers completely before gently lifting me, bridal style, and climbing back on to the bed with me in his arms.  He set me down softly, his bulky form leaning over top of me, and I spread my legs to allow him to settle against me, skin to skin.  I sighed, enjoying the heaviness and pressure of him over me, and the feel of his hardness nestled against my slick folds.

 He spent an eternity there, not moving, alternately kissing me deeply and nuzzling my neck, as we whispered words of love to each other; finally he rested his forehead against mine, staring deeply into my eyes as he entered me slowly.  He shuddered at the heat and damp as I took him in, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

 “So big,” I groaned, squeezing his length with my pelvic muscles.  “So good.  Please, Alistair.”

 And then he was moving, slowly sliding in and out of me as I raised my hips, meeting him thrust for thrust.  His piercing gaze never left mine, and I struggled to keep eye contact as he filled me so deliciously again and again.  Still sensitive from my orgasm, I shuddered as he ground himself against me, stimulating my over-wrought nerves.

 I could feel him trembling, trying to hold back; I used my legs to urge him on until he was almost pounding into me, and he groaned loudly.

 “Come for me, Sierra.  My love, my wife, _please_ …”

 The huskiness of his voice, the desperation, combined with the pressure building in my core, and I came apart in his arms, head thrown back and eyes closed against the onslaught of sensation.  He collapsed against me, and I could feel the scalding heat as he released inside me.  We lay there, boneless and tangled together, until we caught our breath and reluctantly disengaged.

 He flopped onto his back, pulling me against him to rest my head on his shoulder, one of my legs thrown carelessly over his.  I trailed my fingers mindlessly through his sparse chest hair, and he kissed my forehead softly.

 “You’re incredible,” he murmured.  “So beautiful.”

 I flushed, embarrassed but secretly pleased.  “That’s just the afterglow talking.”

 “Don’t make me prove it to you.  You said you wanted a nap, not another round.”  He squeezed me, and I giggled.  “I’ll do it.”

 He moved as though to roll towards me, and I hurried to push against his chest, holding him down.  “Okay, take it easy.  Whatever you say, husband.”  He snorted and settled back, and I snuggled back into his embrace.  “Sleep, love.”

 Taking my own advice, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

 I was woken a while later by a noise; I was alone on the bed, and Alistair, wearing nothing but his loose sleeping trousers, was peeking out the door, talking to someone.  He closed the door softly, turning around and smiling when he saw I was awake.

 “Aedan,” he told me, “has asked to meet with us before supper.  We’re doing the Joining tonight.”

 “For how many?”  I held my breath, not sure if I was hoping for one, two, or three.

 “Two, tonight.  Seranni and Sigrun.  Velanna has asked permission to return to her clan – once she’s confirmed Seranni survives – and negotiate a peace treaty of sorts, and then she may Join later.”

 “And we can’t afford to wait for her, with Seranni.”  He nodded.  “I wonder if Velanna will come back after.  She can be so unpleasant, though I know she’s a good person underneath all that.  I don’t even know which I hope for.”  I slipped out of the bed.  “How long do we have?”

 His eyes darkened as they raked down my naked form.  “Long enough,” he replied, untying the string on his trousers.  I gulped and backed up, and he smirked at me.  “Now, about the proof you seemed to require…”

 ****

An hour later, after a hasty shower and shoving my wet hair into a pony tail, Alistair and I joined Aedan and the rest of the Wardens in the small sitting room.  Zevran shot us knowing looks, and while I blushed, Alistair just grinned, squeezed my hand, and joined Aedan at the front of the crowd.  I looked around, and noted Rolan standing alone, with Oghren and Bel between him and the rest of the Wardens; everyone was ignoring him, and I wondered what he’d done to earn himself their anger.  Knowing what I did about him, it wasn’t hard to guess it was something to do with the mages.  _Probably accused Alim of blood magic again or something._  I ignored it, hoping that Alistair and Aedan would be successful at dealing with him.  I did know that they were strictly monitoring his access to Lyrium, and wondered if that was making him cranky.

 When Seranni and Sigrun arrived, Aedan sent the other Wardens all out to go get dinner, except Alim and Rolan, the two most junior Wardens.  The two stood as far apart as it was possible to be within the small room, making me chuckle.  He sent a scowling Velanna away as well, which I thought was for the best – knowing your sister might die in the next hour was bad, but watching it would certainly be worse.  Anders had made up the Joining potion with blood taken from one of the darkspawn in the basement, and I saw the chalice sitting on a table to Aedan’s left.

 Seranni stepped up to me nervously, and I nodded encouragingly at her.  She had to be afraid, and I felt the urge to hug her, but resisted.  Even though she was much more pleasant than her sister, I wasn’t sure she’d welcome physical affection from a shemlen.  “I’m glad you’re here,” I whispered.  And I was; she might not survive the Joining, but dying of the taint or ending up a ghoul wasn’t a better outcome. And just maybe she’d survive.

 Sigrun smiled at me, and I grinned in response.

 “Welcome, Seranni and Sigrun,” Aedan began.  “Tonight…”

 I didn’t catch what he tried to say next, because Rolan interrupted him.  “Commander, should we really be discussing this in front of a civilian?”

 It took an embarrassingly long moment for me to realise he meant me.  While I was technically a Grey Warden, very few people knew, due to my strange response to the taint – something we assumed was due to whatever the Architect had done to me as a baby.  So Rolan had no way of knowing I was a Warden, but it still surprised me that he objected, given who my husband and brother were, and the fact I’d been present at his own Joining. I raised my eyebrows and turned back to Aedan and Alistair, waiting to see how they’d respond.

 “Your concern is noted, Rolan.  However, this civilian knows as much about the Order as you or I, and has been to multiple Joinings.  She will be our host and landlord once the darkspawn threat here has been dealt with, and she is somewhat responsible for the recruitment of both of our new Sisters.  I also feel it is appropriate for a woman to be present at a Joining when all the recruits are female, and all the Wardens male.  She stays.”

 “But-“ the former templar objected.

 “Thank you, Rolan.  If I may continue?” 

 Rolan finally nodded, refusing to look directly at me.  I rolled my eyes and looked back at my brother again.

 “Tonight, we will be adding two names to the ranks of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden.  I know you must both be nervous, but we welcome you with open arms.”  He talked through a spiel similar to Duncan’s – the one I remembered from the game, and from more recent Joinings, about the formation of the Order and its aims.  It ended with the Grey Warden motto: “In War, Victory.  In Peace, Vigilance.  In Death, Sacrifice.  Here in Ferelden, having seen the unfortunate side to some of the politics involved, we have separated ourselves from Weisshaupt, with the hope that we can remain true to our goal – eradicating darkspawn and guarding against the next Blight.  Our goals are the same, despite the schism. 

 “We speak only a few words before the Joining.  Rolan, Alim, if you would?”

 The two men, despite their differences, spoke in unison, the words heavy and evocative as always.

 “Join us, sisters.  Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant.  Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn.  And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day, we shall join you.”

 Aedan lifted the chalice, disturbing the murky contents, and the smell of darkspawn blood, so familiar to me after a year of fighting them, wafted across the room.  Sigrun’s eyes widened as she seemed to realise what was expected of her; Seranni just nodded to herself resignedly.

 “Sigrun, you are called upon to submit yourself to the taint.”

 The dwarf glanced at me, expression slightly panicked. 

 “It’s going to be fine,” I whispered reassuringly.  “Go on.”

 Aedan handed her the chalice.  She frowned, shrugged, and then lifted it to her lips.  I remembered the burn of that disgusting drink, and I winced sympathetically as she gagged at the taste.  Aedan snatched the chalice back quickly as Rolan stepped forward smoothly.  Sigrun coughed, grabbed her throat, and then screamed; her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped into Rolan’s arms.

 I stepped forward, feeling her breath on my fingers at the same time I sensed the taint flowing through her veins – hers reminded me of the sensation of hugging a furry teddy bear.  “She’s fine.”

 Rolan settled her on the little couch, as Aedan turned to Seranni. 

 “Seranni, step forward.  For the greater good,” he added, as she took the chalice.

 She seemed almost eager, and I could see why; she’d lost some more hair, and the blackened veins were up past her elbow.  Her skin was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, her complexion sallow, and her lips pale.  It was clear to me she didn’t have long, and I wondered if she felt worse than she looked.  The elf grimaced at the thick, smelly fluid, and took a breath.  With one last look around, she smiled softly and drank.

 I held my breath as she handed the cup back to Aedan; she went through the same set of actions as Sigrun: grabbing her throat, screaming; but as she fell, something different happened.  Instead of going limp, she jerked against Alim, who cursed as he almost dropped her.  Alistair jumped forward and the two men stabilised her and lowered her to the floor.  She was flopping like a fish, mouth open in a silent scream, twitching; her back arched off the floor, her head rolling from side to side, her arms and legs thrashing, her breathing ragged and wet.  Her head snapped back and made sickening contact with the floor; one arm knocked against a table leg.  I’d never seen anything like it.

 Aedan and Alistair traded startled looks that weren’t so much shocked as worried.  Aedan grabbed a pillow off a nearby settee, propping the seizing woman’s head on it to keep her from banging it again.  Alistair moved the nearby table.  Their actions spoke of experience, like they’d done that before.  Alim just stared at the seizing girl, as did Rolan from near Sigrun, unconscious on the couch.

 “What?”  I asked.  “What is it?  Why’s she doing that?”

 Aedan looked over at me, a mask of careful neutrality coming over his features.  “How many Wardens can you sense in this room, Alim?” he asked, never taking his eyes off me.  It was clear the question wasn’t meant only for the mage.  I shifted my attention to my senses and counted.

 I could feel Alistair, my personal sunshine; Aedan and his crushing duty; Alim, agitated and angry; Rolan, suspicious and insecure; and Sigrun’s new fuzzy taint signature.  From down the hall I could sense more, muted by distance, but in the room with me, I counted five.

 I gasped.  Aedan nodded.  Alistair reached out for my hand, almost unconsciously pulling me close, just as Alim’s puzzled voice replied, “Four.  Aedan, Alistair, Rolan, and Sigrun.  With me that’s five.  Only…only five.  I can’t sense her.”

 


	126. Warden Weirdness

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Six: Warden Weirdness

 

“I can’t sense Seranni.”  Alim’s voice sounded confused. 

 Rolan was shaking his head, clearly in agreement with the inability to sense the elf.  I restrained myself from making the same movement; Rolan and Alim weren’t supposed to know I could sense the taint at all.  I was guessing by the slightly ill-looking expressions on my husband’s and brother’s faces that they couldn’t feel her either.

 The blond elf continued to flop around, her seizure ongoing.  A loud thump from her booted foot hitting the floor brought us all back, leaping into action.

 “Alim, do what you can to heal Seranni.  Rolan, take Sigrun up to an empty room to rest.  Do not speak to anyone – not one person, you hear? – and stay with Sigrun until we send for you.”  My brother started barking orders, and we all leapt to obey.  “Sierra, can you get Anders?  Quietly.  And send a servant to Sigrun’s room with some food – she’ll need it when she wakes.”

 I nodded and bolted out of the room, Rolan right behind me with the unconscious dwarf in his arms.  I peeled off to the right to get Anders from the dining room while the former templar headed up the nearest stairs.

 I found one of the Vigil’s servants laying out food in the dining room, and asked her to arrange to send up two Warden-sized meals, a pint of ale, and a skin of fresh water to Sigrun’s room, before weaving my way through the mass of Wardens and Legionnaires looking for Anders.  Trevian caught my eye as I passed; I gave him a nod, and he smiled, confirming what I’d guessed – he knew not everyone survived becoming a Warden, and he had been worried.  Given the mutual respect between Wardens and the Legion, it made sense he’d know, but still I was surprised.

 I managed to avoid Velanna, who I spotted only for a moment, standing awkwardly in a corner brooding; I had no idea what to tell her, so I was glad to be able to put it off.  I ran into Zevran, who’d been flirting outrageously with one of the Legionnaires, enjoying his blushing embarrassment; with a quick promise to tell him everything later, I asked the Antivan to go watch over Rolan and make sure no one else spoke to the former templar.

 Finally I found Anders.  He was in the middle of some story about a cat – probably the one possessed by a demon back at Kinloch, if the appreciative giggles were anything to go by – and I interrupted him, telling him I needed his help for something personal.  Solona and Leli, standing nearby, giggled and raised their eyebrows at me; I returned their smiles automatically, but knew there was no chance I’d fooled Leliana, at least.  _Not explaining this later is going to be just a thrill._

 The mage followed me out of the dining room, bemused smile on his face, until he got to the room where Alim was pouring magic into Seranni, while Aedan and Alistair watched helplessly.  Her flopping had stopped while I was gone, and now she just looked pale – pale as death, her breaths shallow and rasping.

 Anders dropped to his knees beside Alim without a word and began one of his glowy diagnostic scans.

 Alim gasped and let his healing stop, panting.  “I’ve no idea if anything I did helped.”  He and the healer held a brief, whispered conversation I couldn’t follow, something to do with life force and energy, and then Anders was the one healing the elf.

 “So this is what I looked like?” I whispered, tucking myself between Alistair and Aedan. 

 My husband wrapped his arm around my shoulder while Aedan gripped my hand hard, eyes wide.  “Worse,” Alistair replied; I felt Aedan shudder.  “You seized for longer, and when you were done, you were barely breathing at all.”

 “So she should just wake up, and everything will be fine.”

 “Except she’s not a Warden – not really.  How do we even begin to explain this to the others?  To her sister?  What if you were just lucky, and she doesn’t wake up?  A death we could explain to Velanna.  She knew the risk.  But this…is something else.”  Aedan looked beyond freaked out.  I squeezed his hand.

 “I don’t understand.  It made sense – sort of – for you, with the whole magic resistance, being from somewhere else thing.  But this…”  Alistair rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

 I thought about it.  What made Seranni different from anyone else?  I couldn’t remember much about her from the game, other than that, as a ghoul, she actually kept her mind; I recalled thinking that was unusual for a ghoul, and blaming the Architect – after all, hadn’t he done something similar to Genevieve and her brother Bregan in ‘The Calling’? 

 The germ of an idea formed.

 “What if…” I hesitated, thinking frantically.  “I mean, the darkspawn don’t normally kidnap people, right?  Unless they’re looking to make a new broodmother, which supposedly the Architect isn’t.  It seemed strange he would keep her with him.  Utha, it made sense – he could use her blood for research.  Seranni wasn’t a Grey Warden – what would he need a random ghoul for?  But, what if…what if there was something about her that was different?  Maybe…the Architect targeted her for some reason?  We know he can manipulate the taint…Perhaps she has some trait that makes her resist the taint?  Maybe we both do?  Maybe that’s why he wanted her, and that’s why no one can sense me.  Maybe that’s why he sent me away.”

 Aedan and Alistair were both staring at me, fear and horror written clearly across their faces as I talked my way through the random pieces of information that were slotting themselves into place in my mind.  As I waited for a response, I suddenly realised it was much too quiet, and I could no longer feel Anders’ healing magic.  I looked up to see the two mages staring at me, mouths agape.  _And of course, they heard that.  Nicely done, Sierra._ I could feel my face flushing under their scrutiny.

 “You…you’re a Warden?”  Anders was the first to recover, expression curious but guarded.

 I sighed.  “Yes.  Sort of.  I’m like her – I took the Joining, but no one can sense me.”

 He stood, glancing critically between me and the elf, who now appeared to be resting easily.  “But you have Warden abilities?”  I hesitated, and he continued.  “Of course you do.  That’s why you can stand watch.  It’s why you were on the list of those who could slay the Archdemon.  And why you eat like the rest of us.  I never put it all together, but it’s obvious, in retrospect.  When did you Join?  Why didn’t you tell us?”

 “I’ll explain everything later, I promise.  But first – is she okay?”  I gestured at the elf laying at his feet.

 “I’ve no idea,” he replied, shrugging.  “I’ll assume it’s a good thing the seizures stopped.  I can’t find anything wrong to explain what’s happening, and healing made no difference.  I think we’re just going to have to wait and see.”

 Aedan sighed, tugging at his usually impeccable brown hair, which was becoming wilder by the minute.  “What do we do next?  The last thing we need is Weisshaupt learning we have Wardens who aren’t normal Wardens.  Honestly, after our last meeting, they’ll say they have all the justification they need for kidnapping one of you.  Both of you!  And then they get two things they want – people to experiment on, and something to use as leverage to bring us back into the fold.”

 Alim joined the conversation.  “That’s why you didn’t tell anyone.  You were afraid Weisshaupt would want you, to experiment on you.” 

 I nodded, glancing back and forth between Alim and Anders, suddenly afraid for my new, tenuous friendships.  “You have to understand, it wasn’t that we didn’t trust you.  We didn’t know we’d be separating from Weisshaupt.  We had Riordan, Loghain, and Dougal to think about.  We couldn’t know who would accidentally let things slip, and we didn’t want other people to have to lie for me. 

 “I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life as a lab rat in Weisshaupt like Fiona.”  At their puzzled glances, I huffed in frustration.  “Never mind.  I just…”

 Alistair interrupted me.  “Fiona!  Andraste’s flaming butt cheeks!”  He slapped himself in the forehead dramatically.

 “What?”

 “I was just thinking…if there were two people who aren’t ‘normal’ Wardens, why aren’t there more?  And then you said Fiona…”

 I gasped.  “Fiona’s taint is ‘gone’.  What if it’s not?  What if we’ve got it backward – he didn’t target us, he did something to us?  We know he did something to Fiona that strangely accelerated her taint, leaving it ‘gone’ when it was over, and he did something to me too.  It _was_ his darkspawn that attacked Seranni.”

 Aedan cleared his throat, looking at me and then pointedly at Alim.  “We can speculate later – or better, catch the bastard and question him – but none of this helps us.  What do we do with her?  And there are a few too many people in on this secret for comfort now, not to mention too many who saw Seranni and know she was tainted.”

 “I won’t tell anyone.”  Anders smirked.  “Who’d believe me anyway?  And I have no desire to be ‘questioned’ by Weisshaupt.  It’s Rolan you’ve got to worry about.”

 “Fake her death?” Alim suggested.  “Rolan isn’t here, and we can keep quiet – though I admit I have some questions.”  He raised his eyebrow at me expectantly, and I sighed and nodded.  “Send her off with her sister.  I don’t know where; she can’t go back to her clan.  But send her somewhere, and tell Rolan she didn’t make it.”

 I looked at the elf anew in appreciation.  “You’re crafty.”  I looked back at Aedan.  “We’d need to make a pyre, find a body to burn, and maybe fake Velanna having a fit and leaving.  We could send her to Soldier’s Peak for now – I’m sure Avernus would be more than happy to meet someone else like me – and then send her on from there.”

 “To where, though?  She can’t stay at the Keep; we’re all going to relocate there eventually.”  Alistair rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.  “Too many people might recognise her.  Maybe Lanaya?  She owes us a favour.”

 “I may have another idea for you,” came a voice I wasn’t expecting to hear.  When I glanced down, Seranni’s eyes were open, and she had raised a shaky arm over her head to block out the light.  “Oh, ugh.  That was awful.”

 I dropped to my knees beside the elf, taking her hand and leaning over to cast a shadow over her no-doubt-tender eyes.  “How are you feeling?”

 “Terrible, I’m not going to lie.  But given I couldn’t be sure I’d survive – and you all weren’t sure I’d ever wake – I’ll take it.”

 I laughed.  It was a sheer relief to see her awake and believe she would eventually recover.  Holding her hand still, I pulled her to a sitting position; someone handed me a water skin, and she took it from me gratefully, chugging half the contents in one go.

 “So you heard all that, then?” Aedan asked.

 She nodded, still swishing the water through her mouth – trying to rinse out the taste, I guessed.  _I remember that foul flavour._   “Think so.  You guys can’t sense me, though you should be able to.  She,” the elf gestured at me, “is the same, there might be a third, and something called the Architect is to blame?  Weisshaupt will have a fit if they find out.  Also, something something about another world, though I’ve no idea what that means.”

 I laughed and pushed myself to my feet, and Aedan helped me pull Seranni to hers, allowing her to settle on the nearby couch. 

 “Don’t worry about it.”  I sighed and ran my hand through my tangled, curly hair.  “And the Architect is the first talking darkspawn – he created the others by perverting the Joining ritual and making darkspawn drink Grey Warden blood.  So you said you had an idea?”

 She nodded.  “The problem, as I see it, is that Weisshaupt will want to examine anyone who’s ‘different’.  Right?”  She waited for all of us to nod our confirmation.  “So let them.  I can’t go home, I can’t stay here – why shouldn’t I go to Weisshaupt?”

 Aedan, Alistair, Alim, and Anders all reacted to that loudly, taking over each other, declaring reasons why she shouldn’t go; I just watched her, eyes wide with shock. 

 Seranni held up her hand.  “I don’t have to tell them I’m not the only one.  I won’t even mention this Fiona.  I don’t think they’ll kill me, will they?”

 Everyone looked at me.  I shrugged helplessly.  “They didn’t kill Fiona.  She’s an elf, a Warden who the Architect did something to and somehow, her taint went away.  That’s not to say they couldn’t – but I don’t know why they would.  They learn more if you’re alive.  But you don’t have to do this.  Not for me.”

 She smiled at me shyly.  “You all saved me – from the darkspawn, then from the taint.  I am a Grey Warden now, right?  So I might as well be of use.  Here, I’m a danger to you.  I can’t go home.  So I might as well go and see if I can help in some other way.  You just have to promise to look after my sister.”

 A lot more discussion on the subject ensued, but nothing anyone said could dissuade the elf from her self-appointed path.  I couldn’t decide whether to be frightened for her, impressed by her, or worried about the implications for myself and the Grey Wardens in general.  What if they tried to keep her against her will?  What if they decided that vivisection _would_ provide more information than a live body?  What if they went after Fiona, or she accidentally revealed my existence?  I finally had to excuse myself, stepping outside and hyperventilating in the hallway.

 Only to look up and see Velanna standing in the hallway, scowling; her face paled when she noted a few stray tears streaking down mine.

 “No, Velanna – she’s fine.  She survived,” I gasped.

 The elf’s stiff posture relaxed the slightest bit, and her frown eased.  “What is wrong, then?”

 I hesitated, finally deciding we might as well get it over with.  I wiped the tears away and gestured to Velanna to follow me.  I could hear the group inside still talking before I opened the door, and banged loudly as I did to ensure they got the hint.

 “Guys?  Velanna is here.”

 I stepped aside, and Velanna entered, immediately pulling Seranni into an embrace.  They whispered to each other in elven for a few moments, before Velanna turned to face us.

 “You have saved my sister.  I know I have been less than pleasant, but despite that, you helped her.  I thank you.”  Aedan grimaced and Alistair looked down, avoiding eye contact; Seranni shifted at her side, and Velanna turned to me.  “What are you not telling me?”

 “May I have a moment with my sister?  Please?” Seranni interrupted any response I could have given.  We all agreed, reluctantly, nodding respectfully to our new sister as we left. 

 Out in the hall, Aedan pulled Alim and Anders aside.  “Not a word about Sierra, either of you.  Understand?”

 Both mages nodded.  “I promise.”  Anders squeezed my hand.  “I’m quite pleased to have another sister, and I wouldn’t jeopardise that.”

 Alim smiled at me.  “I’ve kept bigger secrets for you when I was still living at the Circle.” 

 I chuckled.  Alim and Anders took their leave, heading back to the main hall for food.  Alistair pulled me into a tight hug. 

 “You okay?”

 I sniffed, pressing my nose into the crease of his neck, enjoying the comfort he offered.  “Too many ‘what if’s’ for my liking.”

 Aedan grunted in agreement.  “Can’t do anything about it now.  Seranni going to Weisshaupt will hopefully keep them occupied for a while.  I had better go deal with Rolan, and then we need to explain to the rest of our Wardens what is happening.  If she’s going to Weisshaupt, then at least everyone else can find out what happened.”

 Aedan headed up to Sigrun’s room, and Alistair and I found an unoccupied nook inside a random nearby room to sit and cuddle for a bit until my emotions settled.  Finally we joined the rest in the dining room; once everyone had eaten, Aedan ushered the Legion out, and brought in Seranni and Sigrun.

 The Wardens cheered, welcoming the two new members; I watched faces to see who noticed the lack of taint palpable in Seranni.  At first, no one seemed to, but then I noticed Conrad wrinkling his brow in confusion.  Then I saw Wulf looking around, scratching one long, pointed ear absentmindedly.  Before too many others caught on, Aedan cleared his throat and asked for everyone’s attention.

 He explained to the baffled crowd that, for some reason we couldn’t explain – but were blaming on the Architect – something strange had happened at Seranni’s Joining, and that while we believed she was still a Grey Warden, we wouldn’t be able to feel her taint.

 Then he told them she’d be leaving to head to Weisshaupt.  The entire group started buzzing, talking amongst themselves in shock, until Aedan silenced them again.  To my surprise, he announced she wouldn’t be leaving immediately, or alone.

 “Until her sister has negotiated a deal to allow the Dalish safe ground and has Joined as well, she will remain and train with us.  I want any of you with combat training in different techniques to work with Seranni and evaluate what style works best.  I’ll not send someone on a journey that far unless they can protect themselves.  Also, anyone who wishes to accompany Seranni and Velanna to Weisshaupt, please come talk to me.”

 I gaped.  It hadn’t occurred to me, but sending a single female elf across multiple countries probably wasn’t the safest thing.  I wondered who, of our companions, might be leaving as well.  _I wonder if Weisshaupt will ever let them go, once they arrive._

 After a brief celebration, involving yet more food and some ale, I headed to bed early.  Alistair followed me, a concerned look on his handsome face.

 “Sierra?”  He sat on the sofa in front of the hearth, pulling me into his lap.  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

 I sighed.  “Ripples.  Ripples I can’t predict.  I don’t know what’s going to happen, and it’s driving me crazy.  Will Seranni be alright?  If some of our Wardens go with her, will they release them?  Will they figure out why you and Aedan were hiding me?  Will they ever let Fiona go if they think there’s more to learn?  She supposed to go back to the Circle and lead a vote to separate from the Chantry, like seven years from now.  Not that I think it was a really smart plan, but what happens if she doesn’t?  I’ve changed so much, and I don’t regret it, but…I know enough of what’s coming to be afraid, and yet I can’t predict it anymore.”

 “Now you know how the rest of us feel.”  He smiled at me to soften the comment.

 “Yeah, but you haven’t seen what I have.  The Chantry in Kirkwall blown up, the Grand Cleric dead and Meredith _becoming_ Lyrium in the Gallows…The Templars ending the Nevarran Accord, the mages fighting for their lives at Andoral’s Reach.  The next ten years are going to be terrifying, and now I know I’ve changed some of it, just enough to make it even scarier.”  I shuddered.

 He held me tighter and kissed the crown of my head.  “Come.  Let me make you forget, at least for a while.”

 He carried me to bed and proceeded to make good on his promise.

 In the morning, nothing was resolved, but unsurprisingly, I still felt better.  Aedan and Alistair left to go for a ride out around the Vigil, and I was back to my training.  I sparred with Seranni – guiltily pleased that she was as bad with daggers as I had been when I started – and then managed to get on my horse without getting more than a couple new bruises.  Riding was another matter, and I bumped along, feeling my ass turn blue as Samuel urged the beast to do something horrible called trotting; by the end of the lesson, I’d at least learned that I was supposed to push up on the stirrups to keep from jarring myself, and though I didn’t have the rhythm down, I understood the concept.

 Varel was too busy for protocol lessons, but I ran into Leliana at lunch, and wheedled her into eating with me, correcting my formal table manners – something she was more than capable of, and mistakes were punished by sharp pokes with her fork, to my dismay – but it also gave me the opportunity to corner her about a few matters.

 “So…how’re things with you and Nate?”

 She smiled brilliantly, and then her face fell and she avoided eye contact, studiously staring at her soup.

 “You love him, don’t you?”

 The agony on her face when she finally looked up and nodded was heart wrenching.  “I do.  I never planned this, but I do.  And yet…I cannot stay here.”

 “Why not, Leli?”

 “You know why.  I have responsibilities.  And what would I even do if I stayed?  I’m _Orlesian_ , Sierra, or close enough for the Fereldan nobility to hate me regardless.  Nathaniel’s got enough of a battle on his hands to recover his family name after his father…But with an Orlesian lover?  Or worse, wife?”

 I raised an eyebrow at her, fighting an ironic smile.  “Do you remember what you said to me when I told you Alistair deserved more?”

 Leli sniffled, shaking her head.

 “You told me that what he deserved should be his choice.  If Nate wants to fight the nobility for you, shouldn’t that be his choice?  He’s hardly unaware of the issue, I’m sure.  If Cailan can make a bastard and an off-worlder a prince and princess, Nate can marry an Orlesian.  He obviously thinks you’re worth it, if he’s talking marriage.”

 “And what sort of wife would I be?  I’m a bard, not some pampered noble.  What would I even do with myself?”

 “You don’t think Amaranthine will need all the help it can get to recover from Nate’s father, Bann Esmerelle, and a darkspawn invasion?  You would be an enormous help to him, not to mention you could work with the Chantry, open a school...just be a wife, be loved, maybe even be a mother.  Would that be so terrible?”

 A few more stray tears trickled down her cheek.  “No, not terrible.  It would be wonderful, no?  But I still have responsibilities.”

 “Do you really think Jus…I mean, Dorothea wouldn’t understand?”

 “I’ve been told to report to Val Royeaux, and then I’m being sent to Haven with a bunch of Chantry scholars.”

 I wracked my brain for a long-forgotten epilogue slide.  “And nothing will be there.  The temple will be inaccessible, and no one will know why – some sort of ancient magic, an act of the Maker, or something more nefarious?  But more to the point – have you told her?  Maybe for once you could be happy!  If you tell her…I’m sure she’d let you go.”

 I wasn’t sure if that was more reassuring, or less; her face crumpled, and scrubbing tears off her face angrily, she fled from the dining room.

 The next few days continued along the same lines.  Alistair and Aedan rode to Amaranthine for most of one day, returning late; they reported a good start on the walls of the city, and housing for the few elves remaining in Amaranthine – most of them had been sold to slavers, unsurprisingly – had begun construction; Nate arrested Esmerelle and installed Delilah as at least temporary Bann; they confirmed the tunnels under the city were still sealed, the entrances guarded, the smugglers out of business.  To my chagrin, both men had no difficulty riding horses, and neither fell off nor bruised their butts from their travels.  _Show offs._

 Voldrik, along with some of the Orzammar stone masons, had begun work on the Vigil’s walls; Cailan had ordered stone shipped from the quarries near Denerim, after the Alienage was finished, so we didn’t have to find a source of local granite after all.

 I spent some time reconnecting with my friends – Zevran, Conrad, Anders, Solona, Wulf, Bel…even Oghren.  I had barely seen them in Denerim, if at all, and things had been too busy since we’d arrived at the Vigil for much more than brief chats in the hallway.  I got to know Sigrun and Seranni a bit better, and started learning some elvish swearwords surreptitiously from listening to Seranni and Velanna talk. 

 I ordered a set of non-descript leather armour from a grumbling Wade; he reluctantly admitted that the armour given to me in Orzammar was flawless, but I needed something less noticeable for if I was travelling.  The whiny armourer cheered up considerably when he learned that he’d probably be making Archdemon hide armour for Aedan and a new set of Archdemon dragon bone plate for Alistair.  Herren rolled his eyes, mostly tolerantly, and only sniped at me sarcastically a little bit.

 I’d finally gotten to the point where I’d stopped needing healing after riding lessons when the schedule I’d gotten used to was suddenly completely disrupted.  I was sitting in the dining room eating breakfast with Aedan, Zevran, and Alistair, half-listening as they discussed sending out patrols to keep an eye on the darkspawn activity along the Pilgrim’s Path and the Knotwood Hills, to check in on Kal’Hirol, and to scout the Dragon Bone Wastes for signs of the Mother’s army, when we were interrupted by a messenger.

 It wasn’t Maverlies; the young man was clearly a new recruit in Cailan’s army, and by the shortness of breath, had ridden hard all the way from Denerim and hadn’t stopped running since he’d gotten off his horse.  It immediately made me nervous when he was so intent on blurting out his message that he didn’t even stop to stumble over what titles to call Alistair or me, and didn’t awkwardly genuflect like almost every other commoner we’d met since the Landsmeet.

 “Commanders, my Lords, my Lady… I have urgent news from His Majesty in Denerim.  He wishes you to depart for the capital immediately.”  He offered Aedan a thick envelope breathlessly.

 Aedan gestured for the man to have a drink and take a moment to collect himself.  “Take a breath, man.  Now, what in Andraste’s name has happened?”

 The messenger opened his mouth, and the next words out of it would send me reeling.

 “The ship carrying Her Maj- er, I mean, Lady Anora, to Nevarra was scuttled.  There were some survivors, but Lady Anora wasn’t among them.”

 


	127. Emergency Measures

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Seven: Emergency Measures

 

The messenger opened his mouth, and the next words out of it would send me reeling.

 “The ship carrying Her Maj-…er, I mean, Lady Anora, to Nevarra was scuttled.  There were some survivors, but Lady Anora wasn’t among them.”

 The four of us sitting in the dining room were in an immediate uproar, everyone yelling questions, until Alistair finally hollered over the din, silencing all of us.  “Alright, please, start at the beginning.  When did this happen, what do we know, and who survived?”

 “I don’t know all the details, though some may be in that letter.”  The messenger pointed at the envelope Aedan was holding.  “I know some of the crew survived, as well as Warden Loghain.  He and some others were escorted back to Denerim to allow the details to be sorted out.  It happened…oh, must have been ten or twelve days ago, now, but it took a while for word – and the survivors – to make it back to Denerim.”

 Aedan dismissed the messenger, ripping open then envelope once we were alone.  He scanned the contents of the letter quickly as the rest of us speculated quietly.

 “That bitch!” I hissed.  “Did she arrange this?  Maybe somehow she got off the ship first, faked her death so she could go stir up trouble for Cailan?”

 Alistair’s mouth sprang open in surprise.  “I hadn’t even thought of that.  Maker, what a mess!”

 “I wouldn’t put it past her,” Zevran agreed; “she is devious, that one, yes?  But she also has no shortage of enemies.  There are any number of people who might think to gain favour with our illustrious monarch by assassinating his ex-wife.”

 Aedan started swearing loudly as he finished reading.

 “Loghain survived, as did Erlina,” he explained.  “It seems Riordan…didn’t make it.”  His voice cracked, and I stifled a sad little whimper trying to escape.  “Cailan doesn’t really know a lot of details yet, but it sounds relatively certain that Anora died.  He’s asked us to come back for support – he doesn’t sound like he’s coping particularly well – but also to decide what to do with Loghain.”

 He handed the letter to Alistair, and I read over my husband’s shoulder; it was basically exactly what Aedan had said – an appeal for help, with virtually no details provided other than that the survivors were being asked to stay in Denerim until we arrived.  It didn’t even say if Dougal had made it.

 Alistair pulled me in for a hug, and I reached out for Aedan’s and Zev’s hands as we all tried to mourn Riordan – but briefly.  It was clear we’d need to be leaving, and soon.

 “I’ll go pack for us,” I told Alistair.  “How are we going to be travelling?”

 He and Aedan exchanged worried glances.  “I’d say horseback, but...”  Alistair trailed off, clearly reluctant to voice his lack of confidence in my riding abilities.

 I had no such qualms.  I pouted.  “I’ll never make it all the way to Denerim.  I can barely get around the arena without bruising my ass!”

 “What if you double up?” Aedan suggested.  “We can bring an extra horse to carry our packs, and the two of you can trade off to spare any one horse the double burden the entire way.  And riding double will be easier on your ass,” he added with a smirk.

 I groaned.  “Fine!  Fine.  Just so you know, I may have to deal with the sore ass, but you all have to put up with the whining.  You guys go deal with the Wardens; I’ll get us ready to leave.”

 Zevran followed me up the stairs to pack for himself and Aedan, while I began hunting for bags to put things in.  Months of travelling by foot had made me efficient at packing, but this was different.  If we were going to be at court, I’d need dresses, Alistair would need fancy clothes, and we’d both need shoes; we needed bedrolls and tents for the travel, not to mention food and water skins. 

 Varel dropped in as I worked, wishing me a good trip.  He made a recommendation that made a lot of sense, as much as I knew Alistair wasn’t going to be happy about it.  I’d known for some time that I was going to have to go to Soldier’s Keep at least for a while.  Leaving my seneschal to do everything was one thing, but I needed to at least drop in and approve everything he’d done, not to mention check up on my soldiers and the Wardens stationed there.  On the way back from Denerim, after our visit with Cailan, was probably the best opportunity I was likely to get.  Cailan had promised me another batch of soldiers, so I’d have protection while I travelled, and while it wasn’t exactly on the way between Denerim and the Vigil, it wasn’t that far out of the way either.

 I packed accordingly.

 Zevran helped me arrange my bundles of things into packs a horse could carry, and we were both done before Alistair and Aedan finished giving instructions to the rest of the Wardens.  Conrad was left in charge, as usual, with instructions to patrol the areas previously cleared, but not enter the Silverite mine or engage the Architect in any way.  Scouting the Dragon Bone Wastes would wait until we got back from Denerim.

 When I mentioned my planned side-trip to Soldier’s Peak, Aedan prepared Bel to head that way with a group of Nathaniel’s soldiers; Bel would replace Faren, who had been at Soldier’s Peak for months, and the soldiers and Faren together would be able to escort me from the Peak back to Amaranthine.  Alistair wasn’t happy about the planned separation – _neither am I, if I’m honest_ – but he understood the necessity of it; he tried to find a way to justify coming along himself, but Aedan needed him.  It wouldn’t have worked.

 The four of us loaded our things on Sadie, who was apparently to be ‘my’ horse, and then, fully armoured and armed, we all mounted.  Alistair climbed first onto a huge, sleek, black horse unimaginatively named Midnight, and then pulled me up into his lap.  Despite his borrowed plate armour and my leathers, it was an interesting, and definitely not objectionable way to ride, I decided.  Alistair’s strong arms wrapped around me from behind, his breath blowing my hair around, his legs somewhat cushioning mine, his groin pressed against my ass; I shifted, and he grunted softly in my ear. 

 “Behave,” he commanded, the grin almost audible in his voice despite the sadness we were both feeling. 

 I giggled.  With a last wave, we headed out.

 At first, Aedan kept a reasonable pace.  Trotting, I discovered, was much easier to learn when snuggled up against someone you loved.  In retrospect, after feeling Alistair’s powerful legs moving, the rhythm was obvious, and soon I was bouncing along happily – posting, evidently – and enjoying the occasional frustrated groan from behind me as my ass grazed against Alistair over and over.

 We hadn’t gone far when we heard the sound of more hooves – a single rider, from the gait, and coming up fast behind us.  Nervous, for some reason, we all turned and reached for weapons just as a head of flaming red hair came into view.

 “Leliana?” I called, incredulous.  _She’s leaving Nate?_

 The bard nodded at me, her answering smile not reaching her eyes.  “I think I may be able to be of use to you, yes?”

 “Leli…”

 “Not now, my friend, please?”

 I could see she was barely holding on.  If I pushed it, she was going to be crying, and I knew she wouldn’t want that.  I nodded slowly, and she pulled her horse in ahead of us, leading us at a brisk pace down the heavily wooded road.  I met Aedan’s worried gaze with one of my own; I silently promised to make sure she was alright later, once we’d camped.

 If I’d thought trotting was fun, on a horse, it turned out cantering was better.  Far smoother for the rider, cantering was the closest I’d felt to flying since leaving Earth.  It reminded me somewhat of driving in a car with the windows open, and I reveled in the cool fall breeze whipping my hair back; Alistair enjoyed that less, and I soon tied it back.  Galloping was even more fun, and I cackled with glee as we pelted down the road when we hit a nice, long straightaway.  But we couldn’t maintain that pace for long – especially with one of the horses carrying two of us – so most of the time we trotted, allowing the mounts to walk and catch their breath periodically.

 We’d left mid-morning, but thanks to fresh horses, we made good time; Alistair and I traded horses halfway through the day, after repacking our stuff onto Midnight’s back.  We’d have to take it a bit slower, after the first day, if we didn’t want to harm the animals, but Aedan figured we’d be able to make it to Denerim in just under three days.  I’d spent most of the afternoon with Alistair coaching me, holding the reins, getting used to controlling a horse, developing instincts for what to do in different situations.  I had a tendency to flail my feet when I got anxious, which naturally spurred the poor beast on instead of stopping it; it wasn’t going to be an easy habit to break.

 Camp the first night was a nostalgic reminder of camps during the Blight.  There were only five of us, but we laughed and joked around a meal of biscuit, jerky, and cheese.  Leli volunteered to take first watch, and as we’d stopped late and ridden all day, we all collapsed into our tents with appreciation.  I tried to stop and talk with Leliana, but she held up one hand before I’d even managed to say anything, and I took the hint, squeezing her fingers lightly and leaving her alone.

 Alistair and I both smelled like horse, and we were exhausted; despite both of our low-level arousal for much of the day from rubbing against each other suggestively, we just slept. 

 The next morning we discovered Leli hadn’t woken anyone for watch; the bard had stayed awake all night, obviously hurting, and I was worried.  She still wouldn’t talk, walking briskly away when I tried to catch her in the woods after morning ablutions; I couldn’t exactly chase her down, given the horrible, unexpected pain in my legs and hips.  I’d underestimated how much riding would hurt, and I hobbled around the camp pitifully like an eighty-year-old.  Everyone else was only somewhat stiff; I thought I’d cry if I had to get on another horse.

 Zevran handed me one of the small healing potions he’d brought, anticipating my need, and I sighed gratefully as my achy muscles relaxed.  I vowed to stretch better at the end of the day, and then did a few stretches while loading packs onto Sadie again.  The second day continued like the first; we rode as quickly as we could without hurting the horses, covering an impressive amount of ground before camping again.  This time we shooed Leliana off to her tent right after eating; the fatigued bard had been swaying in her saddle by the time we stopped.  The rest of us took turns on watch, and had another peaceful, if too short, night.

 Leli didn’t look much better rested the next morning; I’d taken a healing potion before even getting out of my bedroll, and so I cornered her after breakfast while the guys were packing our gear onto Sadie.

 “Talk to me, Leli?  Please?  You’re my best friend.  Don’t lock me out.”

 The bard sighed, taking my offered hand with a quick squeeze.  “I just…I need to talk to Dorothea.”

 I looked at her closely.  “What does that mean?  Are you leaving him?  Or asking permission to be with him?  And how does coming with us help – aren’t we going the wrong way?  You could have taken a boat from Amaranthine.”

 Her look got evasive, and I raised one eyebrow.  Avoiding eye contact, she muttered, “She’s in Denerim.”

 “What?”

 “Dorothea is in Denerim.  I got a message through the Chantry in Amaranthine.  She’s going to be Ferelden’s next Grand Cleric, if Cailan will allow it.”

 “What?!  That’s not supposed to happen!”  My shout drew attention, and the guys looked over; I waved them off.  “Leli!”

 “I know.  Cailan exiling Elemena has changed things.  But I just got word that Dorothea was chosen, and has arrived in Denerim.  I need to speak to her, Sierra.  I need counsel.  You are my friend, but it is to her that I owe-“

 “-Nothing.  You don’t owe someone something for being a decent person, Leli.  I know she helped you escape when Marjolaine turned you in.  That makes her not a monster, it doesn’t make you beholden to her.  I absolutely think you should talk to anyone you want to about this, but you don’t owe her anything.”  I wrapped the bard in a hug, and she squeezed me back.  “How did you leave things with Nathaniel?”

 She flushed.

 “Oh, no, Leli – please say you didn’t leave without telling him.”

 She gave me a startled look.  “Maker, no!  Of course not.  I told him I had something to do, and that I was not sure when I would be back.  He let me go, and told me he would wait as long as it took.”

 I resolved to hug Nate next time I saw him.  “That’s so sweet!”

 She nodded shyly.  “I just…I hope I won’t disappoint him.  I told him I would understand if he moved on.  I almost…I almost hope he does.”

 I fake-punched her shoulder.  “Don’t even say that!”

 She smiled slightly.  “Would you come with me to meet her?”

 “Dorothea?”  I considered.  “How much does she know about me?”

 “I was not able to get word out before the Landsmeet, not that I would have tried with everything we were up against.  I have since told her I had a friend I thought she would like to meet.  That is all.  But Sierra…I would like to tell her everything.  Of all the people in Thedas, she is perhaps the one who needs to know the most, yes?”

 “I’ll think about it.  That’s all I can promise.  I know you feel strongly about your beliefs, and I respect that, but there’s a difference between faith and religion.  The Chantry has a lot to answer for.”

 The redhead nodded.  “I know, and so will Dorothea.  I plan to tell her everything I have seen – surely the Maker never meant for elves and mages to be so mistreated, for those who are supposed to spread the Chant of Light to use their power for personal gain and politics.  If she doesn’t already know, I will make her see.  If she is still to become the Divine, she needs to understand.  This is why I’m torn – I could do so much good for so many if I could work to change the Chantry from within!”

 I smiled sadly at her.  “Or, you know, she could.  The Left Hand of the Divine has a lot of power, but Dorothea actually will _be_ the Divine…But from what I have seen and read, while she may have progressive views, she either could not, or would not do anything about it.  I’m sorry, Leli, I know how you feel about her, but...”

 “Will you tell me what you know?  You’ve implied such things before, but never told me the details.”

 I sighed.  “I’ll try.  It’s been a long time, and I was always more interested in this part of the story, the Blight and the Wardens – I’m not sure how much detail I remember.”

 “Yes, well, handsome ex-templar Wardens have a way of distracting one, no?”

 I giggled and blushed.  “That’s not why!”  She raised her eyebrow at me artfully, and I rubbed my nose ruefully.  “Okay, that’s not the _only_ reason why.”  We both laughed.

 I rode with Leliana for part of the day, huddled behind her, allowing Alistair and me a reprieve from the arousal of rubbing up against each other; I spent the time telling her what I could remember about the Chantry from the second Dragon Age game, as well as the book “Asunder”.  I hadn’t read any further into the future than that, if more books had been written, and the third game had only been a rumour when I came to Thedas.  I told her about Meredith, mad with power and Lyrium; Elthina, hiding her almost criminal inaction and the insubordination of her underlings behind prayer and belief that things will happen ‘the way the Maker wills’; Petrice, stirring hostilities with the Qunari in Kirkwall; the templar, Alrik, and his Tranquil Solution and mage abuse; Lord-Seeker Lambert, a zealot who was allowed to take over the Circle at Val Royeaux, and tried to cover up evidence that the Rite of Tranquility could be reversed.  Lambert also annulled the Nevarran Accord, and slaughtered many of the Senior Enchanters at a Divine-sanctioned Conclave.

 “At the end of the second game, you’re in Kirkwall, working with a shady female Seeker looking for the Champion, presumably to lay the blame on for letting everything get so out of hand.  Like there was really something she could have done, without knowing the future as I do.”

 “Which Seeker?” she asked.  “There aren’t that many women, and few that I would describe as ‘shady’.”

 I thought about it for a moment.  “Um, Cassandra, I think?  She is – will be? – the Divine’s Right Hand.  She has an odd accent I didn’t recognise.”

 “Cassandra Pentaghast?” Leliana asked, her tone incredulous.

 “Uh, could be?  Young, pretty in a bitchy sort of way, dark brown hair?”

 Leliana let out a musical peal of laughter.  “Cassandra, ‘shady’?  Tell me you’re joking.  I know her well; Cassandra would be the least likely person I can imagine to be described doing something ‘shady’.  Even her shadow could not truly be called shady.”

 “Well, I don’t know, but she came to Kirkwall at the end of the game, captured my- uh, Hawke’s friend Varric, interrogated him, possibly torturing him for the whereabouts of Hawke, and when he convinced her he didn’t know, she held him prisoner until he told her everything he knew about Hawke and her friends.”  I giggled internally at the slip-up of calling Varric ‘my’ friend.  _Even after playing the game only once, it feels like he is._

 Leliana frowned.

 “You don’t believe me?”

 “Of course I do, my friend.  I just cannot reconcile what you are telling me with the woman I know.  Cassandra embodies everything that is good in the Seeker order.  She saved the Divine from a plot within the Chantry to murder her; she believes in mage rights.  Her lover is a mage!  I cannot believe Cassandra would-“

 “It doesn’t happen for another seven or eight years, Leliana.  A lot can happen in eight years.”

 “I suppose.”  The bard was quiet for a while, clearly thinking. 

 I broke the silence.  “Leli?”

 “Yes?”

 “Can I ask you something?  You don’t have to answer, but I’m just curious.”

 “Anything.”

 “Why were you really in Lothering?”

 The bard sighed.  “I did not lie to you, Sierra.  I was just there as a lay-sister.  After my escape…well, Mother Dorothea saw skills in me she needed, but I was floundering.  I did not know who to trust, did not even trust my own faith.  My belief in the Maker was too new, my anger too fresh.  I was of no use, to myself or anyone else, and I endangered myself and others in my distress.  Lothering was a place to let go of my past, to embrace my faith, to learn to trust in the Maker and his bride again.  In order to make a difference, I needed to centre myself, to learn humility and piety, to trust my own judgement.  I was meant to be there another year, perhaps two, but then the Blight, and my vision…”

 “And Dorothea thinks you’re ready now?”

 “I do...I did.  I was not exiled to Lothering.  I was to stay there as long as I needed to, and my time there is over.”

 “But now?” I asked.

 “Now I am not certain.  I am torn, Sierra.  There is so much good I could accomplish, working for Dorothea, but my heart…”

 “…is with Nathaniel.”  I hugged her from behind, and she rested her head against mine briefly.  “I hope, whatever you decide, that you find happiness, Leli.  Saving the world is admirable, but if you’re unhappy at the end, it isn’t going to be enough.  I can say I have definitively learned that, this past year.”

 She laughed.  “I suppose I should take your word for it, at that.”

 “So tell me…you were always grilling me about Alistair; how’s Nate been treating you?”

 We spent the rest of the morning giggling about our love lives, Leliana clearly relieved at the change of topic.  Alistair rolled his eyes good-naturedly in our direction, guessing what we were talking about.  His improved confidence, especially since the wedding, meant instead of being horrified, he was more bemused by the discussion.                                            

 We stopped at our former campsite outside Denerim, near a small lake, to get cleaned up before we entered the city; it was supper time, and chilly in the fall weather, so we took as little time as possible, each using my shower head and some of the soap I’d brought, drying off and redressing quickly.  I was slightly disappointed, half hoping for some time to reacquaint myself intimately with my husband’s gorgeous body, but the cold dissuaded me from that plan.  It was probably the longest we’d gone without sex since the Archdemon, I reflected, and I was feeling a bit desperate.

 Obviously feeling the same disappointment, Alistair pulled me aside as I finished brushing my wet hair, dragging me behind a nearby boulder and kissing me senseless.  One arm held me around the waist, pulling my unresisting body close as he thoroughly explored my lips; the other hand wove into my hair, tousling it completely, but I couldn’t even bring myself to complain as I lost myself in the kiss.

 “Tonight,” he gasped, panting, when we came up for air.

 I couldn’t have agreed more.

 Finally ready, we remounted and entered the city.  It felt strange, after all the fanfare of the last few times we entered Denerim, to almost sneak in with no one the wiser.  We trotted quickly through the city; the streets were quiet, as it was almost dark, and no one even seemed to notice us.  Leliana peeled away from the rest of the group at the Chantry, promising to catch up with us in the morning; the rest of us continued on to the Palace.

 The gates were closed when we rode up; Aedan climbed down to have a conversation with a cranky guard, who eyed us suspiciously and wouldn’t open up; in the end, Alistair and I were announced as Prince and Princess Theirin, much to my dismay, but at least the gate was opened.  The pomp and fanfare that had been missing on our ride through the city was suddenly back in full force.  We ended up dismounting and parading through the courtyard, our bags being taken by servants as the horses were lead to the stables, and Alistair and I ended up leading Aedan and Zevran through a hastily assembled company of soldiers saluting us, up into the palace.

 I felt really awkward about the whole thing, standing stiffly and feeling uncomfortable, until a small voice broke through the shuffle of soldiers and servants around me.

 “Sierra!”  Blake came barreling down a side hallway, dodging easily between armoured men and, to my surprise, throwing himself into my arms.  _He hasn’t done that since Redcliffe._

 I hugged him, feeling him almost melt into me, and looked over at Alistair with concern.  “Blake!  It’s good to see you, kiddo.  You okay?”

 He pulled back briefly, sending a tremulous smile to Alistair, Aedan, and Zevran.  “I’m fine.  Really.  But I’m so glad you’re here.”  He glanced around and then went up on tiptoe, leaning in to whisper in my ear.  “I think the King’s going mad.”

 


	128. Of Shipwrecks and Monarchs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the NSFW version of this story with explicit sex. If that doesn't appeal to you, check me out on fanfiction dot net under the same username.

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Eight: *Of Shipwrecks and Monarchs

 “I think the King’s going mad.”

 I looked around surreptitiously, hoping no one heard what Blake had said, wondering if it was possible to get the kid alone in a room and find out what he meant without being overheard.

 “Where is he?”

 “On his way.  You’ll see.”

 With that unsettling prediction, I turned back to the main foyer to see Cailan coming down the stairs to greet us.  He looked, frankly, like hell.  His golden hair was greasy and lank, he wore a wrinkled doublet with the sleeves rolled up, and black smudges under his eyes made it clear he hadn’t been sleeping much. 

 I heard Alistair breathe a surprised huff at the sight, and Aedan’s eyes widened as the monarch approached.  I felt Zevran’s hand on my back briefly, and then the elf disappeared into the throng of people around us, I presumed to go sneak around and gather intelligence for my brother.  The soldiers scattered when they heard Cailan greet us, and we were suddenly left standing alone, though there were still plenty of eyes on us.

 Alistair and Aedan bowed, arms crossed across their chests; I dropped into an awkward curtsey, made worse than my normal by my armour.  Cailan, as usual, held out his hand to help me up, but as I stood it was I who ended up supporting him.  He stumbled slightly, leaning on my shoulder, and as I stabilised us both, I got a whiff of alcohol on his breath.  I risked a quick look directly at his face; his eyes were slightly glazed, his cheeks and nose red, and he hadn’t shaved.  The hand I held in my own shook slightly, and his mumbled greeting was slurred.

  _He’s drunk off his ass!_

 Thinking quickly, I looped my arm through his, holding him up while making it look like he was escorting me.  “Your Majesty, it’s so good to see you, but I’m simply exhausted after our ride.  Would you show me to our rooms?  I get so lost in this big palace…”

 I continued the inane babble, with Cailan too out of it to even acknowledge anything I said, as I steered him firmly towards the family wing of the palace, where I was hoping we had rooms.  Alistair, Blake, and Aedan fell into step behind us, and we were soon out of the public eye.  I chivvied Cailan down the hallway until he stumbled and almost fell; Alistair stepped forward, wrapping Cailan’s arm over his shoulder, and we half-carried, half-dragged his brother the rest of the way to his room. 

 I’d never been in Cailan’s room before; it wasn’t what I was expecting, overall.  It was lavishly appointed, yet not overstated; somehow I’d thought he would have everything decorated in red velvet or something.  He had a large outer chamber with a sitting area and a large desk; a door off to the side led to his bedroom, I presumed.  I helped Alistair lower the king onto a settee near a large hearth in the sitting room, and then the four of us – Alistair, Aedan, Blake, and myself – stood staring down at a rumpled pile of only half-conscious man.  He didn’t respond to questions other than to mumble, so we turned to Blake instead.

 “How long has he been like this?” Alistair demanded.

 “Since the survivors arrived, basically.  He wouldn’t talk to anyone, and he hasn’t dealt with them at all.”  Blake looked at his employer sadly.  “He hasn’t slept, and the drinking…”

 “Hasn’t dealt with them?” I asked.

 “They’re in rooms, not the dungeon – although that was a close call – and they’re being kept under house arrest.  He hasn’t even spoken to them since the first day.  I don’t know what to do!”

 I hugged the kid, while Aedan patted him on the shoulder gently.  “Not your job to do anything, Blake.”  Aedan looked at Alistair and then me.  “We can’t do much of anything either until he’s sober.”

 “I wonder if Wynne’s still in the city?” Alistair asked.

 “Should be,” I replied.  “How’s this for a plan?  You three get him bathed, shaved, and dressed.  I’ll find Wynne – don’t worry, I’ll take an escort if I have to go out.  As likely as not, he’s just going to need to sleep it off, though the hangover tomorrow is going to be nasty.”

 Alistair and Aedan exchanged scowls, and I laughed.  Blake rushed out to find servants to bring water to Cailan’s bathing chamber, and Aedan and Alistair hoisted Cailan up between them and shuffled him off in the direction of his bedchamber.  I stepped out, getting the nearest servant – a young elf carrying two buckets of hot water – to point me in the direction of the Seneschal.

 I found Cailan’s seneschal talking to a group of irritated nobles demanding to see the king; he was an older gentleman who seemed somewhat bewildered by the whining, and I stepped in to rescue him, for selfish reasons if nothing else.

 “My Lords and Ladies, his Majesty King Cailan is in meetings with his Highness Prince Alistair and the Warden Commander.  He is unavailable at this time, but I’m certain he will make time to meet with all of you on the morrow.  I will personally ensure that the seneschal, here, is notified of when such a meeting can take place, and he will contact you with those details when they are available.”

 The group bowed, some of them reluctantly, some of them with more enthusiasm; while I outranked all of them as a princess, and probably would as a Steward as well, that didn’t mean they had to like it.  I was finally able to usher the poor man away so I could have a private word.

 “Your Highness,” he gushed, grateful for the escape, I assumed.  He bowed low, and I hurried to pull him upright again.  “I am Seneschal Willem.  Thank you for that timely rescue!”

 I grinned.  “No problem, though I’ve really only put it off for you.  They’ll be back in the morning, I suspect.”

 “Without a doubt, your Highness, but I have been putting them off for days, so I’ll take any reprieve I can get.”  He risked a grin, and I chuckled.  “What may I do for you?”

 “I need to find Senior  Enchanter Wynne.  She was supposed to be staying in the city to establish a clinic – do you know where I can find her?”

 He nodded quickly, his long, pointed nose flying.  “Yes, your Highness.  Before the shipwreck,” he winced, “his Majesty went there regularly to check on progress.  I believe the Enchanters have quarters there – it’s in a renovated warehouse building near the Chantry.”

 “I’ll need an escort to go there.  Not a royal escort – I’d like this to remain quiet, please.  A carriage or something might be best, with only a small handful of soldiers.  Is there a non-descript carriage that I can use?”

 He kept nodding eagerly.  “A covered cart, I think, would be less conspicuous.  Right away, your Highness.  I will ask the guard captain – no one will notice some city guards leaving the palace, and if you keep your armour on and wear a cloak, no one will recognise you, either.”

 He turned away, presumably to make arrangements, but turned back slightly, looking uncomfortable.  “His Majesty – is he…unwell?”

 I snorted.  _Nothing a cold bath and some sleep won’t cure._   “He’s fine.  It’s a personal matter.”

 He nodded.  “Of course.  My apologies.  I am…relieved that you are here, your Highness.”

 I smiled, expression softening.  _He’s had to put up with whatever is going on with Cailan for probably a week; no point taking it out on him._   “It’s going to be okay, Willem.”

 “And happy I am to hear that.”  He shook his head, covering over his concerned expression with the obsequious mask he used with the other nobles.  “If you would wait here, your Highness?”

 He was back in a few short minutes.  After donning a cloak he helpfully provided and covering my head with the hood, I followed him out to the barracks; Sergeant Kylon was in a small office area working at a desk when we entered.  Getting him to rustle up a cart with a driver, a footman, and four soldiers on horseback to accompany us was easy, and took less time than I expected.  Within about fifteen minutes, I was in the back of the cart, no one except Kylon and Willem knowing who it was inside.  As late as it was, the streets in Denerim were empty; the ride to the Market District took perhaps half an hour.

 I was impressed to see we went through the Alienage on the way.  The gates to the elves’ district had been torn down, the streets widened and properly paved.  The new apartment-style buildings were complete, and the entire place looked well-kept and clean.  There was a large garden near the Vhenadahl, near-ripe vegetables guarded by a sturdy fence and two well-armed members of the new elven militia.  More of the militia patrolled the streets and guarded each entrance to the Alienage.

 The cart stopped in a narrow alley, half a block from the Chantry, and the footman assisted me out.  Two of the soldiers stayed with the cart, the other two escorting me inside; they took up positions near the door, leaving me to go further in alone.

 I was fascinated by the inside of the clinic.  The warehouse had clearly been gutted, the inside completely renovated; there was a Tranquil elf at a small desk at the front, with two long hallways behind him at angles to each other, and a large open area with half-a-dozen cots off to the right.  The cots were currently unoccupied, each covered with a crisp white sheet, a blanket folded up at the foot; a young woman in mage robes sat reading at a small desk at the back of the area.  Each hallway had multiple closed doors, and I could see intersections at the ends leading further inside.

 The Tranquil greeted me as I hesitantly approached.  “Good evening,” he said tonelessly; the Lyrium brand on his forehead almost glistened in the torchlight.  “Welcome to the clinic.  Do you require healing?” 

 He gestured off to the area with the cots; clearly this was where patients were brought to be initially assessed.  The mage glanced up from her book curiously.

 “No, no, I’m fine.  I’m looking for Wy…Senior Enchanter Wynne.  Is she here?”

“Enchanter Keldra is more than capable of helping you-“

 I interrupted him hastily.  “No, it’s not for healing.  I’m here to speak with Wynne.  She’s a friend.”

 The Tranquil looked back at the mage, apparently named Keldra; she looked me over briefly.  I pulled my hood down, my long curly hair tumbling forward around my face, my obviously good quality armour showing beneath the cloak.  She finally nodded to the man at the desk.

 “Very well.  Please wait here.”  He turned and walked stiffly down the hallway on the left before disappearing around the corner.

 I waited for probably ten minutes before Wynne’s murmured voice preceded her. “Keldra…not my…personal?”  I couldn’t hear all the words, but the meaning was still clear – Wynne was not on duty, and didn’t understand why she was being summoned so late at night.

 She came around the corner, and her confused expression was replaced with a broad smile; she approached with her arms out, and I leaned in to hug her.  “Wynne!  I’ve missed you.”

 “And I you, child.  I am surprised to see you in Denerim – I thought you were to be in Amaranthine for the foreseeable future?”

 I sighed.  “I was.  We need to talk.”

 She examined my face, then nodded and led me part way down the hallway, opening a door and stepping inside.  She fumbled with one of the arcane lamps the Formari made, and a small, clean hospital-type room was revealed.  She closed the door behind us, and turned back to me.

 “What’s happened?  Is Alistair alright?”

 “Oh, Wynne, we’re fine.  It’s Cailan.  Listen, have you heard about the shipwreck?”

 She shook her head, eyes widening.

 “We don’t know any details yet, but the ship to Nevarra – with Anora, and the Wardens?  It sank.  There were some survivors, including Loghain, but apparently Anora wasn’t one of them.  Cailan’s been a mess ever since – not sleeping, drinking too much.  Zevran is trying to find out the details, but Wynne…could you come check on Cailan?  He’s probably just drunk and exhausted, but he was barely conscious when I left.”

 Wynne’s complexion blanched.  “Sank?  But…but how?  Sierra, is…” The tips of her ears flushed, a strong contrast with her otherwise pale skin.  “Is Dougal-“

 “I don’t know.  The only ones I know about for sure are Loghain and Anora.”

 She sank on to the cot behind her, wringing her hands.  “How did this happen?”

 “The word Cailan used in his letter was ‘scuttled’.  I can only assume that means it was sunk purposefully.  Attacked?  Sabotaged?  We don’t know.  And Cailan, the one who should be figuring all this out, is drunk out of his mind.  Please Wynne?”

 “Of course.”  She stood, smoothing down her robes.  “Of course.  Allow me to grab some things in case I need to stay.”

 I nodded, following her out into the hallway.  “Later you have to show me around here.  This clinic is amazing, Wynne!”

 She smiled proudly.  “That it is.  I’ll be down in just a moment, my dear.  Wait for me out front?”

 The Tranquil watched me with unblinking, not-at-all curious eyes as I waited; it was creepy, but then, the Tranquil usually were.  Keldra surreptitiously watched me as well, obviously far more curious, but she didn’t say anything, to my relief.  Wynne was gone only a few minutes before she came bustling down the hallway with a large handbag in her arms.

 “I’m going out for the evening, Garlen.  Please ask Enchanter Petra to take over for Keldra in the morning?”

 The Tranquil nodded, and Wynne gestured to me to lead the way out.  I pulled my hood back up and headed to the door.  One of the soldiers waiting for me by the door held out his hand for Wynne’s bag, and she relinquished it; the other soldier cracked open the door and looked outside before exiting and holding the door for us.  I headed to the cart, stepping up with the footman’s help and settling on the only seat while Wynne climbed up behind me.  The soldier placed Wynne’s bag on the seat beside her, and then closed the door.

 The mage and I chatted about inconsequential things on our way to the Palace; Wynne was proud of her clinic and the mages working there, as well as a group of non-mage healers and assistants who’d been recruited to help out.  She was planning to leave for Orzammar to meet up with Caridin and Shale within the month, and hoped to spend her winter underground doing research on golems.

 I took her straight to Cailan’s room when we arrived back at the palace.  I reminded myself to thank Sergeant Kylon and the seneschal both for their help and discretion.

 I entered Cailan’s room without knocking, Wynne on my heels; Aedan and Alistair were standing by the hearth, talking quietly when we entered, both of them looking slightly damper than when I’d left.

 “Wynne!”  Alistair kissed me, then pulled the mage we’d all adopted as a mother-figure into a hug.  Aedan joined in, and the four of us shared a brief group hug while the mage chuckled.

 “It is good to see all of you.”  She ruffled Aedan’s hair, and he squawked, making us laugh.

 I touched my finger to a wet spot on Alistair’s shirt; he’d taken his armour off, and his under-armour was speckled with damp spots.  “Had any trouble?”

 Alistair grumbled while Aedan laughed.  “Cailan wasn’t so cooperative in the bath, I admit, but it’s done.”

 “Where is he?” Wynne asked.

 Aedan pointed wordlessly to the door leading to his bedroom, and we all followed Wynne inside.

 Cailan was propped up on pillows, wearing loose-fitting pants and a shirt; he was dead-asleep, mouth open, snoring sonorously.  Blake sat by the bedside, his eyes drooping with fatigue.

 I ushered the kid to bed, with one last hug; he had a small room adjacent to Cailan’s, and he was so tired he didn’t even object when I pointed at it.

 Wynne approached the bed, hands emitting a light green glow as she checked on Cailan.  She snorted, cast a spell of some sort, and then shooed us back into the sitting room.

 “Just drunk, though impressively so,” she told the anxious group of us once we were out.  “Hasn’t had anything but alcohol for a few days, I’d wager, but he’ll be fine.  And against my better judgement, I’ve made it so he won’t have to feel most of the hangover when he wakes up tomorrow.  I’m assuming we need him to be somewhat functional in the morning.  He’ll still need plenty to drink and a lot of rest though – I can’t prevent the hangover, just treat the pain.”

 We all sat down to talk; Aedan and Alistair hadn’t been able to get any more details out of Cailan, though Blake had confirmed that not only Loghain, but also Dougal were somewhere in the palace.  Anora and Riordan had apparently not survived, along with some of the crew and most of the soldiers assigned to the escort.

 “And it seems quite certain they are dead,” came Zevran’s voice behind me.  I jumped; I hadn’t even heard the door open.  “I wasn’t able to talk to Loghain or Dougal, but there is plenty of gossip going around, yes?  The ship was apparently attacked at sea; pirates, supposedly, but I have my doubts.  Erlina told one of the maids that Loghain evidently saw Anora’s body – she’d been stabbed.  Loghain himself was injured, and Dougal brought him to safety.  Riordan could have left with them, but instead he went back for Anora’s corpse, and wasn’t seen again.  A mere handful of the crew survived; the others were believed to have gone down with the ship or been killed by the pirates.”

 “We need to talk to Dougal and Loghain,” Aedan growled. 

 “I’m thinking for the sake of appearances, we should wait until Cailan can grant us official permission in the morning?” Alistair suggested.

 “Curse Cailan!  What’s he been doing the past few days?”

 “Drinking,” responded Wynne wryly, “apparently.  I’m guessing he has some unexpectedly mixed feelings about his former wife’s death.”

 Aedan flushed, and I patted his hand as Zevran sat down beside him.  “Cailan’s had a rough few years.  I suppose we’ll have to cut him some slack.”

 “But he’s getting himself back together tomorrow whether he wants to or not,” Alistair declared.  “We didn’t do all the work to keep him alive and get him his throne back to watch him lose himself in a bottle.”

 Agreeing to meet again first thing in the morning, we all scattered back to our own rooms to get some sleep.  Blake had anticipated the need for a room for Wynne, and a servant hovering outside Cailan’s door showed her where to go.  We had a room just down the hall from Cailan’s, well-appointed with a luxurious four-poster bed.  I took off my armour and sat on the edge of the bed naked, very much expecting I wouldn’t be needing pyjamas; Alistair stripped off his shirt, then stood broodily by our window, staring down at the courtyard below with unseeing eyes.

 “What happened?” he wondered aloud.  “There are an awful lot of people ‘lost at sea’ when they leave Ferelden.”

 I winced, knowing he was thinking about his father.  “I wish I knew.  There wasn’t a book or anything that covered Maric’s disappearance, and they never really said in the game what happened to Anora if you became the king.  And we may never know – it sounds like Loghain and Dougal barely survived.  They may not really have a lot of details.”  I walked up behind him, pressing my naked torso to his broad back, kissing his shoulder blade lightly.

 “I’m worried about Cailan.  Between Maric, his daughter, Ostagar, and now Anora…”

 “Me too.  But he has something now he didn’t have for any of those other things.  He has us, and we can get him through this.  He will be okay.”  And I believed it; it might take some time, and some effort on all our parts, but we would make it happen.  “Come to bed.  There’s nothing you can do about it tonight, and I have a fantastic idea of a way to distract you.”

 He chuckled and followed me to bed, shucking his trousers while I watched with darkening eyes.  “Yes, milady.”  He climbed onto the bed, running his fingertips over my skin, chasing the goosebumps that broke out in his wake.  “What would milady have of me?”

 He gave me a lopsided, smug grin, and I giggled.  “Whatever I can get.”  I pulled him in for a kiss, and he slid overtop of me, cradling my face in his hands as he settled between my thighs, his heavy length pressing lightly against my belly.

 “Maker’s breath, you’re so beautiful,” he gasped when he came up for air; I chased his lips as he pulled away, and shut him up with another kiss.

 Eager after a few days of abstinence and teasing, I lifted my legs, wrapping them around his hips, my heels against the taut muscles of his ass, pulling him towards me; taking the hint, he shifted slightly and then slowly, gently hilted himself inside me without breaking the kiss.

 Both of us were on edge, and I knew it wouldn’t take much before we both peaked; seeming to realise this as well, Alistair slowed down, allowing me to feel all of him as he stretched me deliciously, but without much friction.  I wiggled under him, chasing my pleasure, but he pulled back slowly again, pushing up onto his knees and holding my hips still without separating from me.

 “Not yet,” he rasped, and my eyes shot open to see his face screwed up in concentration.  “I want to feel you, to make it last a little.  Not yet,” he repeated.

 As usual, I could deny him nothing, and I lay there, my hands gripping his forearms with a vice grip as he slowly, agonisingly eased in and out of me.  It was more intense than I expected, being filled with such burning need, but denying it to focus on the slow build-up of pleasure.

 After a few endless minutes, despite his slow pace, I was overwhelmed, shuddering underneath him as he gently filled me again and again.  I gasped in surprise as he reached down and gathered me into his arms, pulling me up so I was sitting in his lap.  He kissed me again, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, his hips never stopping, and then he kissed and licked his way down my neck, finally burying his face in my shoulder as we both shook together.

 I felt like I would explode; my arms were wrapped around his neck, one hand gripping a handful of his short blond hair, and I rode him at his pace, unable to stop the pleas and declarations of love from spilling out of my mouth.  I was ablaze, my skin on fire everywhere he touched me, and it was so much more than pleasure, so much deeper than just sex, I tumbled unexpectedly into orgasm, crying out as it kept going and going, drawn out by each measured thrust of his hips. 

 I heard his hoarse voice call out as his own peak came; finally losing his patience, his rhythm suffered as he spilled inside me.  My vision greyed out; it was a good thing he held me tightly to him, or I’d probably have fallen.  As it was, by the time my awareness had returned, I was laying in Alistair’s arms, his hand stroking my face as he whispered to me, encouraging me to breathe, to relax.

 “Andraste’s ass, Alistair…”

 “Yeah.”  I could hear the smug grin in his voice.  “Me too.  I love you, Sierra.”

 I snuggled into his embrace and fell deeply asleep.

 I woke in the morning to him spooning behind me, his erection pressing against my ass, his lips on my neck, his hand on my breast; when I began writhing in his arms, he took me from behind, bringing me to a climax with his fingers on my pearl before groaning in my ear and releasing himself again.

 I’d have preferred to stay in bed and go for round three, but the light sneaking through the closed shutters indicated it was morning, and we knew we had a lot of work to do.  Reluctantly we climbed out of bed, cleaning up with a basin of warm water courtesy of my dwarven rune, before dressing for court.  I braided my hair back, putting on a lovely-but-simple dress that a servant had obviously unpacked and pressed for me; Alistair put on slacks and a doublet, spending more time on his hair than I did, to my amusement.

 I was still teasing him about his hair when we ran into Aedan and Zev in the hallway outside Cailan’s room; they told us Wynne had gone inside, and we decided to wait in his sitting room to hear the news.

 It didn’t take long before Cailan emerged from his room; his skin was sallow, his eyes slightly sunken, but he wore clean clothes and his gaze was clear.  We all drew near, worried about him.  His expression was sheepish, but also slightly defensive.

 “I hear I have you to thank for being sober and not in excruciating pain this morning.”  Wynne winked at us, and we all stifled our grins.  Cailan went on, “Thank you for coming.  As you saw, I’ve been having some…difficulty-“

 I interrupted him by pulling him into a hug; he stammered briefly before surrendering to it, and Alistair patted him on the back while he shook in my arms.

 “It’s okay,” I whispered.  “We’re here to help.”  I let him go, and he rubbed his face ruefully, clearly embarrassed.

 “Right,” he murmured.  “So where do we start?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things are...stressful, at the moment. I'm trying to keep writing, but stress and my muse don't get along, so...if you have an in with any convenient deities or mages, please let me know :) It'll help me write faster.
> 
> Or, you know, send me a review. That helps too.


	129. Fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who sent me well-wishes. My situation is...complicated, right now, but I swear I will not give up on this fic no matter what, and will continue posting at least every 2 weeks for the foreseeable future. I had hoped I might be able to go back to weekly, but it's not happening at this point. But I appreciate all the good vibes you have been sending!

Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Nine: Fallout

 

In the end, it was decided that Zevran would tackle Erlina, being the most likely to catch her if she was lying, while Aedan, Alistair, and I went to free Dougal and Loghain from their house arrest and bring them to Cailan to hear their side of the story.  Both men were being guarded in rooms in a dim, slightly dingy hallway; the guards reported no problems with either man, and appeared to be quite relieved to be released from their duty. 

 Aedan knocked, and then opened Dougal’s door; the older man was sitting cross-legged on the bed – the only furniture in the room – reading a book.  His smile was incredibly relieved when he saw Aedan and Alistair, and he jumped up to clasp forearms with each of them before hugging me briefly.  He started trying to explain, but Aedan stopped him, telling him we’d sit down and talk about it all at once.

 Loghain, on the other hand, was pacing, shirtless, a large bloody bandage wrapped around his middle.  He was in amazing shape for a man his age, I couldn’t help but notice; beside the bandages, his torso was covered in various scars that did nothing to hide his physique.  He quickly donned a shirt, bowing to us respectfully.  I was surprised – from all reports, he’d barely survived, not been offered healing, then been held a virtual prisoner since the wreck; I expected some anger, at least, but all I could see in his countenance was grief.  _I keep forgetting he just lost a daughter.  He’s got bigger issues than Cailan’s bad treatment._

 We led both men to a small room where Cailan waited; Aedan insisted that Wynne be allowed to heal Loghain before anything else happened.  The mage bustled in a few minutes later, exchanging fond smiles with Dougal before proceeding to unwrap Loghain’s bandages with an irritated sniff.  The Warden tried to object, claiming he was fine, pushing her hands away, but Wynne slapped his hands and insistently ripped off large clumps of filthy gauze.

 “Why weren’t we called before now?  There’s an entire clinic of healers in Denerim!  This should have been tended days ago.” 

 The degree of ire in her voice made me curious, and I stepped to the side to see the wound as she bared it.  I immediately regretted it; there was a gaping hole in the man’s abdomen, the edges of which were grey and ragged; blood and pus pooled in the wound, and bruising led from the injury around his flank and down towards his hip.  I gasped in horror, wondering how he had survived this long. 

 “Cailan!” I exclaimed in disgust.

 Cailan blanched as well when he saw it.  “In my defense, I had no idea…no one told me.  Loghain, I am sorry.  I would not have left you like this had I known.”

 The taciturn former noble barely responded, distracted as he was by Wynne cleaning out the wound with supplies she produced from a small bag she’d brought with her.  He tried to suppress his groans of pain, but a few slipped through and we all winced.  Finally happy with her work, Wynne concentrated, and I felt her mana gather.  The healing took several minutes, and left Wynne reeling and Loghain looking nauseous; it also left him with a large, dark, puckered scar.  I helped the mage into a chair, while Loghain slowly, stiffly redressed himself.

 “I’m sorry about the scar,” Wynne said to Loghain.  “It has been too long.  You’re very lucky to have survived.”

 “Not sure I’d call that lucky,” he muttered, thinking about Anora, I assumed.  _I wonder if he kept quiet about the wound hoping it would kill him?_   But he tried to force a smile for the healer.  “Thank you.”

 Wynne, recovering slowly, climbed to her feet and excused herself; she was going back to her clinic, she told us, but promised to be back before supper.  Just as she was leaving, a line of servants arrived, carrying trays of food which they placed on the sideboard before slipping out.  Cailan gestured at everyone to eat; we all helped ourselves, though I noted Cailan took only an apple and some cheese.  _Probably the first thing he’s eaten in days._

 Finally settled with our plates, Aedan turned to Loghain and Dougal.  “Start from the beginning,” he requested.

 Dougal began.  “We left Denerim and things were fine for a few days.  We were following along the Ferelden coast; we stopped in Highever for a few hours to board supplies, and then headed further west – there’s a safer crossing point to Nevarra near Jader.  That was our goal.”  He looked around, sighing.

 “The ship was attacked in the night after we left Highever.  I woke when we were boarded – I could hear too many pounding feet, and yelling.  I grabbed my sword and opened the door to my room, only to be attacked.  They were dressed like sailors, though they seemed to have trouble with their balance, so I suspect they were disguised soldiers, not pirates.  They had Orlesian accents.  I fought my way up to the deck, finding most of the crew slaughtered.”

 Loghain broke in.  “I only woke when someone stabbed me, and I wonder now if I’d been drugged – I’m not usually a deep sleeper.  I killed my attacker with his own blade, and then tried to get to Anora’s room.”  He grimaced, face a mask of pain and grief, and his voice cracked when he spoke again.  “Her door was open, and she was lying on the bed, blood trickling out of her mouth, her eyes wide open.  She was dead, I’m sure of it.”  He looked at Cailan anxiously, clearly thinking he wouldn’t be believed.  “She didn’t do this, Cailan.  I’m certain of it.  She had come to terms with Nevarra, and she wasn’t unhappy to go.”

 Cailan nodded tersely, clearly suffering from the telling.  Alistair reached over and put a supportive hand on Cailan’s shoulder, and the king’s expression softened slightly.

 Dougal continued, “The ship was on fire, and taking on water; most of the attackers were dead or fled – I saw their ship in the distance.  Riordan dragged Loghain, unconscious, onto the deck; he and I pushed some crates into the water for floatation, and he ordered me to take Loghain and swim for it.  He told me he was going back for Anora’s body, knowing that you’d need proof.  I carried Loghain overboard, and we waited…we waited longer than we should have, way longer than I was ordered…but the ship sank, and we never saw him again.

 “A few other survivors were in the water; we all grouped together and swam to shore.  A couple of people died of their wounds, and some I think succumbed to the cold, but we made it to shore near West Hill.  Bann Franderel’s men found us; he gave us healing potions and sent us back here by cart.”

 “And you have no idea who attacked you?”  Cailan’s voice was much steadier than I expected, given his obviously emotional reaction to what had happened.  _I’m just happy he’s dealing with things, instead of hiding in his room and drinking his feelings._

 Loghain and Dougal both shook their heads.  Loghain scowled.  “They were Orlesian, but even I must admit that many would benefit by making it appear we were attacked by Orlais.  They could have been mercenaries, hired by almost anyone.  I have many enemies, as did Anora, and one or both of us were clearly the targets.”

 “Because you were stabbed?” I asked.

 “Because I was sedated,” Loghain replied.  “Warden Dougal felt no ill effects.  Someone must have dosed my food, possibly Anora’s as well.  It made us easy targets, and once we’d been stabbed, the attackers fled.  If it had been piracy, or an attack on the ship itself or the captain, they wouldn’t have started a fire, wouldn’t have run – they’d have been looking for valuables.”

 “Did the captain survive?” I asked, thinking sadly of the man with the dry sense of humour.

 “Yes,” Dougal replied, “and a few of the crew, but I don’t know where he is now.  He was brought back to the palace, but I’ve no idea where the other survivors were taken.”

 We talked for a while longer, and it became clear that no more details would be forthcoming; Aedan, Alistair, Cailan, and I left Dougal and Loghain in the sitting room, heading to Cailan’s office for a chance to talk privately.

 “Do you believe them?” Cailan asked.

 Aedan nodded.  “No reason for Dougal to lie – or Riordan to cover for Loghain, once unconscious, if Anora had escaped alive or some such.  I don’t see Loghain assassinating Anora and stabbing himself to allay suspicion…nor Anora attempting to assassinate her father.  Unless Anora was a lot less human than even we expected, someone tried to kill them both.”

 I agreed, though I had to admit that some of the politics escaped me - _who would benefit from Anora’s death?_   And I hadn’t entirely let go of the idea that the former queen might have faked her death, her father’s injury perhaps unintentional.

 “The Orlesians could be looking to sow discord between Ferelden and Nevarra; Duke Anaxas is not going to be pleased, and he could very well be the next to challenge the King’s hold over Nevarra,” Cailan speculated.

 “For that matter, the Duke’s enemies could have been responsible, and they just tried to dispose of Loghain to get at Anora,” Alistair countered.

 “Let’s not forget the Fereldans who might want vengeance against either of them, or those that might think you would be grateful to have them dead.”  Aedan smiled sympathetically at Cailan.  “There are enough potential candidates to go around.”

 “So now what?” I asked.

 “See what Zevran comes up with, and question the rest of the survivors.”  Aedan sighed.  “Any idea where they are?”

 “This is why I have a seneschal,” Cailan replied wryly.

 We found said seneschal, and were escorted to a long-unused wing of servant’s quarters, where the rest of the survivors were being held under house arrest.  I was truly pleased to learn they hadn’t ended up in a dungeon – or Fort Drakon.  Cailan excused himself to catch up on his duties, including dealing with the nobles who’d been plaguing his seneschal, leaving us to question the survivors. 

 We questioned the captain first; his account matched Dougal’s, though he offered a few new details.

 “It was a pirate ship – Felicisima Armada, I’d guess, one of the fastest ships I’ve seen – but it wasn’t pirates that boarded us.  They carried soldiers; I couldn’t tell you whose.  The attack seemed calculated, directed – don’t know what they were after, but it wasn’t treasure.  They only killed anyone who got in their way, and they didn’t take anything.  My boys put up a good fight, but they’re not trained soldiers – they had no chance.”  He looked incredibly weary – not from bodily fatigue, but just the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders.  I resisted the urge to hug him.  I wondered if he’d had family on his crew, and how he was going to make a living now that his ship was at the bottom of the ocean.  I hoped Cailan would compensate him in some way…I realised I was missing the rest of the conversation with my wool-gathering.

 “…any new crew members?” Aedan was asking.  “Anyone who signed on after we booked passage for Lady Anora?”

 The captain looked thoughtful for a minute.  “There was, yeah.  Kind of odd, actually; my galley hand never showed up when we were loading supplies.  I sent a runner to his usual room, and no one answered.  I had to take on someone new right before you arrived at boarding.”

 Aedan scowled.  “Where did you find the new guy?”

 “Just on the docks.  Same place I originally found all of my crew – you take on someone new, evaluate them for one or two trips before hiring them permanently.”

 We all exchanged bleak looks.

 “What?” he asked. 

 “Is the new galley hand among the survivors?”

 He looked remorseful.  “No.  Must have gone down with the ship.”

 I snorted.  “Or he’s halfway to Rivain or somewhere with those mercenaries.”  When the captain looked at me, confused, I frowned sadly.  “I’m afraid you’ll probably find your former galley hand is dead, Captain.  Your new hire was a plant by whoever attacked your ship.”

 He blanched, chin falling to his chest, shoulders slumping.  “I…I didn’t know!  I swear, if I’d known…”

 Aedan patted his shoulder.  “Calm yourself, Captain.  We don’t blame you.  Can you tell us anything about the man you hired?”

 He shook his head.  “Name was Lem.  Brown hair, brown eyes.  Nothing that would stand out.  And he kept to himself a lot.  I didn’t think much about it – a lot of sailors originally go to sea to get away from something.  I don’t usually pry.”

 Alistair sighed.  “Very well.  Listen, Captain, we need to confirm details with your surviving crew, see if any of them knew anything about the new galley hand, but then you’ll all be free to go.  Talk to the seneschal about compensation for the families of the deceased crew and for your ship.”

 “Th…Thank you!” he stuttered.  “Maker Bless you, Warden.”

 When we emerged, I spotted Leliana in the hallway waiting for us with an anxious-looking guard; I told Aedan and Alistair to continue the questioning without me, and went to greet the bard, dismissing the guard who appeared relieved when no one seemed upset at her arrival.

 “What did you do to the poor man?” I asked her.

 She giggled.  “Nothing, really.  The guards had all been warned not to interrupt you, yes?  I convinced him it was important.  That’s all, I promise.”

 The bard looked radiant; even in armour and carrying weapons, she practically exuded happiness.  I linked my arm through hers and escorted her back to my room before grilling her.

 “So?  Leli, you look so happy.”

 She flushed and grinned at me.  “I am.  Oh, Sierra!  You can’t imagine.”

 “So tell me already!”

 “Her Rev…er, her Grace has helped me find a…middle path, I suppose.”  I raised an eyebrow, and she rushed to explain.  “If she does indeed become the Divine when Most Holy Beatrix goes to the Maker’s side, it will not be for some time, yes?  I have convinced her that, for now, anyone can take over the study of Haven, as it is unlikely much will be found. 

 “Based on what you have told me, her Grace feels there is another way.  I can aid her and the Chantry from anywhere using my contacts, and I can begin cultivating those contacts now – to hand over to whomever she chooses as her Left Hand when she ascends.  She has promised she will not bind me in that position.  I will need to travel some to make contacts and collect intelligence, but for the most part she has agreed that I can be stationed between Amaranthine and Vigil’s Keep.”

 I squealed.  “So you’re going to stay?  Be the Arlessa?”

 She blushed prettily.  “If he asks me…yes, I will.”

 I launched myself at her, pulling her into a hug; she giggled merrily and hugged me back just as hard.  “Leli!  I’m so glad!  You deserve some happiness for yourself.” 

 “Thank you, my friend.  I would not have even attempted to find another path if not for you.  I must leave in a few days – there are some things I must accomplish before I can settle down – but will you come with me to meet her?  If nothing else, I wish her to know who I have to thank for my desire to find a new path.  Please, Sierra?”

 I couldn’t say no to that earnest expression.  “Can I bring Aedan and Alistair?”

 “Of course!  I will go make arrangements.  Perhaps morning tea tomorrow?”  She smiled beatifically at me, and I nodded.

 “Dinner here, tonight, though.  Wynne is coming.”

 She hugged me once again, and bounced off, presumably to plan our meeting in the morning.  I sighed, sure that Aedan was going to be less than pleased with me when they got back.  _And Duncan would be rolling over in his grave…if they did graves in Thedas._

 Zev returned a little later, having spent the morning interrogating Erlina.  I was appalled to learn she’d been kept in the dungeon since arriving back at Denerim.

 “Can you blame them, Bellissima?  Her mistress is murdered by Orlesians while she survived.  She is an Orlesian and an elf, and we had suspicions about her before the Landsmeet.  She looks like a suspect, a traitor, no?”

 He hadn’t learned much new from the handmaiden; she refused to say anything except confirm the basic facts we’d learned from the Wardens and the Captain.

 “Do you believe her?”

 “Her grief is real enough,” he answered.  “I do not believe she orchestrated the assassination.  But she also knows more she’s not telling – whether it is just Anora’s secrets she’s protecting, or something else, I don’t know.  But I don’t believe it will be possible to break her without employing less…pleasant methods, and I don’t see his Majesty approving torture.”

 I sighed.  “He’d better not.”  I tugged on my braid in frustration.  “Maker, what a mess.  What are we going to do with her, then?  We can’t let her go.”

 “Fort Drakon likely has an empty cell available, yes?”  I rubbed my eyes irritably, and Zevran patted my arm sympathetically.  “Ah, my poor, kind-hearted Sierra.  Never change, bella donna.”

 I stuck my tongue out at him, and he chuckled and kissed my forehead, excusing himself to go collect more gossip around the palace.

 Rather than interrupt while the others were questioning the survivors, I shucked my dress and curled up on the bed to catch up on some much-needed sleep; the one down side to Warden stamina, I reflected, was that it didn’t mean you wouldn’t be tired – you just wouldn’t have to stop whatever you were doing because of it.  And there was a tendency to get a little…carried away, when there was time to relax and be intimate.

 I woke up a couple of hours later when Alistair crawled into bed beside me.

 “Love?” I asked fuzzily. 

 He kissed my forehead.  “Everything’s fine.  Go back to sleep.”

 I shook my head, clearing out the fog.  “No, I’m good.  Tell me what you learned.”

 He rolled onto his side, leaning over me, his head propped on one hand.  “Nothing you didn’t already know.  No one knew anything about Lem – he was quiet, kept to himself.  And none of them know if he left with the pirate ship, or died in the attack.  No one saw anything.  We have more people to talk to tomorrow, but I doubt they’ll know anything either.  I’d bet anything he’s the one who stabbed Anora.  Might have been the one Loghain killed, for that matter.  I guess we’ll never know.”  He growled with frustration.

 “How’s Cailan?”

 “Better.  Just having someone else to take charge, I think.  I can relate to that.”  He grinned sheepishly at me, and I chuckled.  “I worry about him, being here alone.”

 “Me too.  He needs a wife.”

 “Eamon tried that,” he teased me.

 “Yes, well, Eamon can bite me.”  Alistair choked, and I laughed.  “Earth jargon.  I don’t know what we can do for Cailan other than be here when he needs us.”

 Alistair had been tracing circles on my bare belly with his free hand, causing goose bumps, and I shivered.  Smoothing his hand over the pebbled skin, he leaned down to kiss me softly, teasing my lower lip with his tongue.

 “I don’t really want to talk about Cailan anymore, right now at least.  Do you?”

 He kissed me again, swallowing my gasp as his hand came up to cup my breast through my bra.  For the rest of the afternoon, I forgot completely about Cailan, Anora, Leliana, and all the other things that were occupying my mind.

 When we emerged at supper, redressed and presentable, we found Wynne and Leliana already waiting for us in the small dining room we had used before, along with Aedan, Zevran, and Cailan.  We chatted for a while before we ate; Leliana informed everyone she’d be leaving, but promised to be back at the Vigil within a few weeks.  Wynne was also leaving.  Happy that her clinic was running well, she was going to Orzammar to meet up with Shale and Caridin. 

 “What should we do with Dougal and Loghain?” Cailan asked.

 Aedan and Alistair exchanged glances, and I could tell they’d talked about it already.  “I assume we will send them both to Jader – maybe not by boat, and maybe with an escort,” Aedan began.

 Zevran piped up, “Another assassination attempt is possible.  We cannot be sure who the target really was – Loghain, Anora, or both.”

 “Or someone else altogether,” Alistair cautioned.  “We can speculate, but we don’t have proof of anything.”

 “Do you think we’ll ever figure out who was behind it?”

 “I can make some subtle inquiries, if you like?” Leliana offered.  “I have many contacts within Orlais, after all.”

 “Please do,” Cailan agreed.  “And I will make formal inquiries through diplomatic channels, though I think it’s safe to say nothing will come of that.”

 “I feel like we should ask them what they want to do,” I suggested, getting back to the subject of Loghain and Dougal.  “At least Dougal.  I know you want Loghain out of the country…”

 Cailan sighed.  “That was probably hasty of me.  I couldn’t help but feel he was a threat to me, but with Anora gone…”  He looked over at Alistair and Aedan.  “I’ll leave the decision to you.”

 Dinner was lovely; we were all guilty of watching Cailan too closely when servants came in with wine to go with the meal, but to our relief, he sipped at one glass, refusing any refills.  I wondered if he’d so quickly come to his senses, or if he was just embarrassed.  _Either way, I’ll take it._

 We finished dinner, and Cailan excused himself to catch up on more paperwork.  Aedan had Dougal and Loghain brought to us, and allowed Leli, Wynne, and me to stay for the discussion.  Dougal, unsurprisingly, wanted to go back to Jader; he agreed to travel by ground, but declined an escort. 

 “They weren’t after me, lad,” he said to Alistair when he objected.  “And on my own, they won’t even be able to find me if they try.  I’ll be back in Jader in no time.”

 Loghain, also unsurprisingly, wished to stay in Ferelden.  Aedan and Alistair made no commitment, but agreed to consider his request.  Loghain, claiming tiredness after the healing earlier in the day, excused himself for an early night, but Dougal stayed and we all chatted until late.  Wynne decided to stay the night, even when Leliana left to go back to the Chantry, and I suspected that Dougal had something to do with it.  I managed, just barely, not to tease her about it when she went to bed.

 Aedan was unimpressed, but Alistair cautiously optimistic about the meeting in the morning with Ferelden’s new Grand Cleric.  I had to admit I was curious about meeting her, after hearing about her from Leliana and reading ‘Asunder’, but I was also nervous.  _Bad enough Greagoir knew about me – and rescuing Anders was a good motivator.  At least I had bargaining chips I could use – I wonder if any of his men ever managed to use the abilities I showed him?  But she’s supposed to be much more clever than he is, and devious – a bard, like Leli.  I’m going to have to be very, very careful._

 We stopped in on Cailan before going to bed myself; he was sitting at his desk, staring aimlessly out the open window, a tumbler half-full of some sort of liquor in front of him beside a truly impressive pile of papers.  Alistair let me go first, clearly insecure, uncertain of his standing with the king.  Cailan jumped when I cleared my throat, and I smiled apologetically.

 “Sorry.  How are you holding up?”  I couldn’t stop my gaze from returning to the glass of booze.

 He flushed slightly when he saw where I was looking, and waved his hand dismissively.  “Don’t worry,” he responded ruefully, “I haven’t climbed back into the bottle.”

 “Cailan, I…”

 “I understand,” he interrupted.  “When you got here…well, no one could blame you for assuming I’d be drunk again.  I’m afraid I’m not very good at this…monarchy thing.”

 I walked up to him, leaning one hip against his desk, holding out one hand for his.  He gave it to me hesitantly, and I squeezed his fingers with mine softly.  “It’s okay to lose it, every now and then.  And we are always here for you – all of us.  You may be the King, blood of Calenhad and all that nonsense – but you’re still just a person, and that’s okay.  You’re allowed to be human, and to need help.  After what you’ve been through the last few years…no one can blame you for needing a few days.”

 Alistair crept up behind me, reaching out to rest his hand on Cailan’s shoulder.  “I’m glad you sent for us.  You’re doing well, Cailan.  The people love you.  Stop being so hard on yourself, alright?”

 Cailan clung to my hand, leaning into Alistair’s sympathetic touch, eyes bright as he blinked a few times.  “Thanks.”  His expression was earnest, the gratitude so raw it hurt to see. 

 “It’s what family does, or so I’ve been told.”  We all chuckled uncomfortably; not a single one of us in the room had any experience with that.

 Feeling awkward, we finally bid Cailan goodnight, encouraging him to go to bed rather than sit up all night with paperwork.  He promised, seeming in a better mood as we hugged him and went to bed.

 I slept poorly, nervously anticipating my meeting with Grand Cleric Dorothea in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my fabulous betas, Kira Tamarion and Melysande.


	130. Church and State

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who reviewed, faved/followed! Your reviews are what keep me writing. Aned for your well-wishes: the new news is that I'm now at least moving in the right direction - I'm going to be having 2 or 3 surgeries in the next year, but all told if everything goes well, I may end up with a knee that doesn't hurt every second - and the possibility of walking, even working again in my future. So, nervous about the surgeries and wishing it could go faster, but that's a big improvement over the endless future of worsening chronic pain that I thought I was going to have to face. Keep your fingers crossed for me...first surgery in July!
> 
> I'm going to be away for the next week, but it shouldn't affect my posting. But don't panic if I don't respond to emails for a bit!
> 
> A million thanks to my two wonderful betas, Kira Tamarion and Melysande.

Chapter One Hundred Thirty: Church and State

 

I woke early, sliding out of bed quietly so as not to disturb Alistair.  For some reason I couldn’t explain, talking to Dorothea seemed a million times scarier than talking to Greagoir had been, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  I curled up in the window seat, cracking the shutters open a small amount to let in some fresh air.

 As I sat watching the guards patrolling the gardens below in the pre-dawn light, I tried to analyse my fears.  _Dorothea is a good person, at least, as far as I can tell.  Leli trusts her.  What do I have to be afraid of?_   I reflected with a snort that the fact that Anders’ fate rested on me telling Greagoir who I was had to have made some impact.  I would never have told the uncooperative Knight-Commander if it hadn’t been for trying to get Anders out of the dungeon; no one’s safety directly rested on me talking to Dorothea. 

 Part of it, too, was not knowing Dorothea well.  I’d read Asunder, and played Leliana’s Song and DA2, but none of those focused on her much, and they were my only source.  With Greagoir, I had played the mage origin enough times to know that while he was a templar, he wasn’t Meredith, Alrik, or Lambert…he was a decent person in a bad situation.  The Chantry was who had failed in Kinloch, not the Knight-Commander specifically.

 And that, of course, was the final reason – the most important one.  I didn’t trust the Chantry, didn’t like the religion or how it manipulated events for its own benefit, didn’t respect many of those in positions of power within it.  And Dorothea, like it or not, was part of that establishment – and at the top, not a low-level order-follower like Greagoir.  Elemena was evil, Elthina just stupid…I didn’t have a lot of reasons to trust any Grand Cleric, really.

  _But what’s she really going to do to me?  I’ll have Aedan, Zevran, and Alistair with me, and even if I was somehow separated and captured, I’ll just disappear and reappear – or can I do that, anymore?  It’s been a while… But it’s going to be fine either way._

 I watched the guards for a while longer, eyes drooping as I tried to reassure myself and stay calm.  I’d probably have fallen asleep there if Alistair hadn’t crept up behind me, his warm arms wrapping around my waist and his chin coming to rest on my shoulder, startling me.

 “Couldn’t sleep?” he croaked, voice hoarse with sleep.  I shook my head and he squeezed me tighter, his chest pressing against my back firmly.  “You should have woken me.”

 “You need your rest.  No reason both of us should be tired.”  I squirmed around in his arms until I was facing him, tracing the planes of his face with my fingers.  “Duncan would have killed me for even thinking about meeting with the Grand Cleric.”

 He kissed my forehead softly.  “Is that what’s kept you sleepless?  Duncan wouldn’t have had you tell anyone but him the truth, if he could have managed that.  And there is some risk, he wasn’t wrong…but there’s a lot to gain if things go well, too.  He would have played it cautiously, but that wouldn’t necessarily have been the right thing to do.  Sierra, I’d tell you if I thought this was reckless.  Aedan too.  But Thedas is heading into a war that might destroy all of us, and you are the one person who might be able to change things.  This is the first step, and we will be right here to take it with you.”  I closed my eyes and shivered as he pressed kisses to my lips, my jaw, and my ear.

 “You’re freezing!” he admonished me.  “Here, come back to bed.  Let me warm you up.”

 As usual, in a heady rush of love and lust, I forgot to be anxious anymore.

 We finally got up and I showered quickly, washing my hair and braiding it back to look like the noblewoman I was supposed to be.  I put on a dress, clasped on a cloak, and only kept Alistair waiting for a couple of minutes by the time I was done.

 “Ready?” he asked, reaching out to take my hand, weaving our fingers together. 

 “As I’ll ever be.”

 Zevran and Aedan were waiting for us, and I picked at some breakfast listlessly while the three men talked about the shipwreck and the remaining survivors to be interviewed after our meeting with Dorothea.  No one had any new ideas on who was to blame, so the conversation wasn’t compelling enough to keep me distracted.

 Leliana arrived a little while later, having decided to come and escort us back to the Chantry; without any discussion, she stayed at my side, chattering away about nothing to take my mind off where we were going.  We walked to the main doors of the palace to find a carriage awaiting us; Alistair helped me up, pulling me into his lap for the ride to the Chantry.  The closed carriage kept me from seeing much of the city, but Alistair made up for the lack of a view by whispering naughty things in my ear, tickling the sensitive skin of my neck and ear with his stubble.  Aedan complained briefly until Leliana and Zevran shot him dirty looks and distracted him with discussion about the Wardens left behind in Amaranthine and what they might be up to.

 We finally arrived at the Chantry, and Leliana immediately led us inside, bypassing the sisters who stood near the doors to direct visitors, bringing us to a narrow, steep stairway in a dark corner of the main chapel instead of the wide, sweeping staircase in the foyer.  “This allows us to keep this visit informal, yes?  We must be seen praying in the chapel when we are finished, and then few will think to question the nature of our visit.”

 Once upstairs, we followed Leliana into a large open antechamber, its walls lined with chairs and a desk in the centre with a young woman sitting expectantly behind it.  She pursed her lips when she saw Aedan come around the corner, clearly about to say something rude about him intruding, but then she blushed when she caught sight of Leliana.

 “Sister L-Leliana!” she stuttered, standing up and wringing her hands together.  “The Grand Cleric is waiting for you.  Please, go straight in.”  She gestured to a door behind her, and with a smile Leliana led us through, knocking but not waiting for an answer before entering the room.

 Dorothea’s office was not at all what I expected.  Based on the rest of the Chantry, I expected it to be lavish, gleaming with tacky gold accents and lots of expensive, ugly Andraste statues.  Instead, the room was decorated sparsely, with a beautiful oil painting of a cliff overlooking a stormy ocean and another of a woman kneeling to pray as the only obviously expensive items; the furniture, consisting of a desk, several chairs, a large coffee table, and two over-stuffed sofas, was mismatched but somehow charming, and looked incredibly comfortable.  There were throw pillows everywhere, a thick rug that I wanted to sink bare feet into, and a large stained-glass window leant the entire room a warm, homey feeling.  I loved it immediately.

 Dorothea herself was also a surprise; I couldn’t have guessed how old she was, for starters, as her hair was pale enough I couldn’t tell blond from white, and her lined face contrasted dramatically with how spry she was, leaping out of her chair and practically running over to us.  Her blue eyes sparkled and she had a big smile that looked kind.  Between the office and her somewhat grandmotherly appearance, I could feel some of my trepidation fade.

 Leliana dropped to one knee as Dorothea approached, and Alistair, Aedan, and Zevran followed suit.  Having forgotten to ask about the rules of protocol for such a situation, I hesitated a moment too long, making it look like I was reluctant; I winced as I sank down, feeling like an idiot.  I glanced up at Denerim’s new Grand Cleric, only to see her grinning broadly, not a sign of irritation on her face.

 She touched Leliana’s head briefly, chuckling.  “Please, my dear, you know better.  All of you, please stand.”  As we rose uncertainly, she held a hand out to me; nervous now that I was also missing some other part of the protocol, I held my own out in return, wondering if I was supposed to kiss her ring or something.  She gripped my hand with surprising strength and pulled me closer, rubbing my cold fingers between her own warm ones.  “It’s so good to meet you.  Please, don’t be nervous.  I’m not a stickler for protocol.  Leliana has told me you have been…apprehensive about this meeting, but I assure you I don’t bite.”

 “Oh sure, make fun of those of us raised by dogs,” Alistair quipped, to my horror, but Dorothea let out a loud, delighted guffaw. The statement served its purpose and broke the ice, and we all laughed. 

 “Dogs from the Anderfels, I understand,” Dorothea winked at my husband and he flushed.  “ _Devout_ ones.”

 Alistair rubbed his neck awkwardly, glaring at Leliana, and the bard giggled.  “I might have been telling a few stories of our adventures, yes?”

 Still holding my hand, Dorothea ushered us over to the small sitting area, urging us to be comfortable.  I settled onto a couch between Alistair and Leli; Aedan and Zevran took chairs, leaving the last couch for the Grand Cleric.  _I was right, this really is a comfortable couch._   When Leliana saw the elder priestess reach for the tea, she slid off the couch and snatched up the pot herself, shooting a dirty look at the older woman.  Dorothea rolled her eyes dramatically and sat back with a long-suffering sigh, making Leli giggle again.  It was clearly an old point of contention between the two, and given the mirth in both of their expressions, it felt like the sort of inside joke one might share with family.  I smiled at the redhead fondly and noted Dorothea doing the same.  A little bit more of my nervousness fell away.  _If she so clearly cares for my best friend, she can’t be that bad._

 When we had tea poured, the Grand Cleric took a long sip and then leaned back, tucking one foot underneath her conversationally, and then smiled at all of us.  “Ahh.  I just don’t feel quite awake until I’ve had my morning tea.”  We all mumbled something nonspecific and sipped from our own cups; I’d never seen any of us except Leli drink tea regularly, so it was amusing to see all of us scramble a bit. 

 She rescued us by continuing as though we’d responded appropriately.  “Now, I know who you are, of course.  Aedan Cousland, son of the late Teyrn of Highever, and now a Grey Warden.  The driving force behind the combined armies who defeated the Blight.  I am so very sorry for your recent losses.  I knew Mother Mallol well.  She loved her posting in Highever and spoke fondly of your family many times.  I am glad that Rendon Howe has met proper Justice – for her sake, and for yours.” 

 Aedan nodded, murmuring thanks, keeping his eyes down, though he couldn’t hide the familiar flash of pain that always crossed his face when he thought about that night.  She didn’t seem to expect more, and turned to the elf clenching his fists impotently on my brother’s left next.

 “Zevran Arainai, formerly of the Antivan Crows.  It was not your mission, but I must thank you for joining these good people and keeping them safe.”

 Zevran blinked in surprise before his golden skin flushed in embarrassment.  He recovered quickly, though, winking at her and shifting his posture to look more relaxed, although this left him looking more like a cat about to pounce than someone truly at ease.  _And more seductive, ridiculous elf._  

 He nodded acknowledgement.  “Yes, well, there’s no telling what might have happened to them without my awesome self to help them out,” he boasted sarcastically, but he seemed pleased, just the same.

 She turned to my husband next.  “Alistair Theirin, Prince and Grey Warden.  I can only apologise for the actions of my predecessor; I understand your training here was…stressful, and that she tried to use you for her own ends.  That should never have happened, and I am sorry.”

 Alistair blushed purple, rubbing his neck again as he always did when he was nervous.  He stuttered something about how it all worked out in the end, and she smiled in relief.  I was suddenly reminded, watching her reduce my family to grateful, puddled messes, that Dorothea had been a bard, before she rose through the ranks in the Chantry.  She was using all of her considerable skills, and everything Leliana had told her about us, to manipulate them.  She was telling them the things they needed to hear, playing on their emotional baggage.  It might only have been to make them feel more comfortable, and she might have been telling the truth, but it was still manipulation, and there was no way to know how she really felt.  I felt some of my walls, which had been dropping since meeting her, rise again. 

  _She may seem a nice, kind, caring mother-figure, but I still need to be careful._  I gripped Alistair’s hand, pulling it into my lap anxiously.  My eyes narrowed at her as she finally turned to me.

 “And Sierra…Cousland?  Theirin, now, I suppose, yes?  I imagine it isn’t surprising I am most intrigued by your story.  Leliana has told me a little bit about your other world, and about the apparent future of this one.  Though I understand events have…changed, from what you knew.”

 “Yes, your Grace.”  I ducked my head respectfully, taking a deep breath and planning my next words carefully; I was there, after all, to help – that didn’t entirely require me to trust her.  “I was raised in a very different world than this…”

 I explained Earth, again, pulling out my phone, my lighter, my Swiss army knife – things I hadn’t needed to demonstrate in months.  She asked few questions, just watching and listening carefully.  She wasn’t able to fully hide the avaricious look in her eyes when I put my phone away, but I was used to that – it was the same reaction any intelligent person would have when seeing technology that would be so clearly useful.

 “And you have no idea how you came to be on this Earth, or how you managed to come back here?”

 We’d decided, way back at Soldier’s Peak, never to tell anyone about the Architect’s apparent role – if my vision during the Joining was to be believed – in my teleportation issue, and with the exception of Anders, Alim, and Seranni, no one else knew, not even Leliana.  I shook my head.  “No, your Grace.  I admit I’ve been thanking the Maker for bringing me back, but whether he had any part in it, I can’t say.”  And that was the truth, if not the whole truth.

 I went on to tell her about Meredith in Kirkwall, all-but-ruling the city illegally, paranoid, making mages Tranquil for minor infractions and allowing abuse to go on under her nose.  “And Grand Cleric Elthina doesn’t help,” I opined.  “She may be a wonderful, devout person, but I can’t help but feel that we can’t wait for Andraste or the Maker to do everything for us.  When we see things happening, bad things, and we have the ability to change them…well, given my story, I think you can guess how I feel about sitting back and doing nothing.”

 She nodded thoughtfully, exchanging glances with Leli; I couldn’t help but see the slight look of distaste in her expression when I first mentioned Elthina.  “And just what do you propose the Grand Cleric could do?” she asked.

 I gaped at her.  “Send Meredith back to Val Royeaux, and Orsino somewhere else, and replace them with reasonable alternatives who will work together.  Force an election and stop the Knight-Commander from interfering with the secular functions of the city.  Spend time aiding the poor, the downtrodden, the desperate, instead of basking in the admiration of the nobility.  Saying she can do nothing, as the most important woman in the Free Marches, seems a little disingenuous, doesn’t it?”

 Dorothea grinned suddenly, looking over to Leliana.  “You’re right, I do like her.”  Her grin slowly faded as she turned more serious.  “Tell me about the war between mages and templars.”

 I sighed and wracked my brain for a sensible way to organise what I knew.  “There’s a lot to it.  First, in response to Meredith’s tyranny, a disillusioned apostate mage plants explosives in Kirkwall’s Chantry and blows it to bits.  I don’t even know how many hundreds are killed in the explosion.”  I refused to admit to Justice’s part in events, knowing that would never happen now.  “Meredith tries to annul the Circle, despite them not having anything to do with the explosion.  Whether or not she’s successful, the fall of the Gallows seems inevitable, and it triggers discontent from Circles across Thedas. 

 “Then the cure for Tranquility is discovered, and Lord Seeker Lambert tries to suppress it.  The College of Enchanters, some of whom have been pushing for autonomy from the Chantry for a long time, take that as evidence that the Chantry is corrupt, and they hold another vote.  Lambert, enraged, slaughters most of the Senior Enchanters in the conclave, then annuls the Nevarran Accord in anger.

 “Without the Accord to control them, the templars and seekers are free from the shackles of the Chantry, and attack and kill any mages without a trial.  The remaining mages hole up somewhere – I don’t remember where – knowing the templars are probably going to attack _en masse_ …and that’s where the story ends.  There was supposed to be another game and several more books, but they hadn’t been published yet when I left.”

 Everyone sat silently for a few minutes after that, contemplating the events as I laid them out.  I could almost see the wheels turning behind Dorothea’s vaguely horrified expression, and I wondered if she was just trying to assimilate everything I’d told her, or to plan for the future.

 “So much death.  So much tragedy.  And for what?” she finally murmured.

  _Guess that answers that question._

 To my surprise, before I had the chance to reply, Leliana was the one who spoke first.  “For what is right.  Because what we are doing, what the Chantry is currently doing, is _wrong_ , your Grace.”  The bard slipped off the couch next to me, sitting down beside Dorothea and taking one pale, wrinkled hand in hers.  “Mages do not deserve to be treated worse than criminals, for no more reason than being born.  Magic is meant to serve man, but that does not mean man has the right to abuse those who wield magic.”

 I was amazed, mouth open in surprise, at the redhead’s passion and earnestness as she pleaded her case.

 “I have seen mages starved, kept in the dark, tortured, and poisoned, for no more reason than wanting some contact with the families they left behind.  I’ve seen mages throw themselves off the top of their towers rather than continue to live imprisoned and abused.  The former Grand Cleric sentenced dozens of them to a slow, painful death by the taint, allowing them to become ghouls rather than let them free of Chantry oversight.  Mages are imprisoned from the onset of their magic, torn from families who love and miss them.  Fear of the Chantry’s reaction to a mage child caused hundreds of deaths in Redcliffe, and that can’t be the first time something like that has happened.”

 Dorothea winced, and I knew Leliana was right.

 “I’ve seen templars, Brothers and Sisters and Mothers be corrupted, be cowardly, be avaricious and cruel.  I’ve seen mages raped and civilians left to die by a Chantry who doesn’t care – and I’ve seen a blood mage stand in the face of true evil and risk his life to protect others.  There is no other conclusion that I can draw than that _we are wrong_ about mages.”

 She stopped to catch her breath, chest heaving with the intensity of her diatribe, and I had to work hard to stop myself from applauding.  Dorothea looked gob-smacked, staring at Leli wide-eyed in shock.

 Her eyes were drawn to me when I spoke.  “It has to end.  For the sake of all of Thedas, the abuse of mages must end.  There is another path.”  I swallowed heavily.  “Look here in Ferelden.  The Circle opened, operating as a school.  Families allowed to visit, fully-trained mages allowed out into the world.  Has the amount of magical violence or crime risen?  No.  The opposite.  Free mages are out there, healing and protecting the citizens, working with the army and the guard.”

 “There have been more maleficar turned over for justice too,” Leliana continued.  “Mages policing themselves, refusing to allow the few rotten apples to endanger their new freedom.  Thanks to the mages, a huge gathering of blood mages in Denerim was aborted, the members captured and brought to the Chantry.  They were discovered by some of the mages assigned to the army, and captured by a combined effort between templars and free mages.”  I twitched in surprise; I’d heard nothing about this, and clearly neither had Aedan or Alistair, by their shocked expressions.

 “But it won’t be possible if the future I’ve seen is allowed to proceed,” I pleaded.  “Something must be done before it is too late.  Meredith, Lambert, Elthina, even Orsino…it must be stopped.”

 Dorothea looked pensively from Leliana’s earnest face to mine.  “I will do everything in my power.  I give you my word.  I do not fear mages, but change will not be accepted overnight.  But I swear to you, I will find a way to change the path we are on.”

 And for once, her sincerity rang absolutely true.  _I don’t know if she’ll be able to change fate, but I do believe she will actually try.  That’s a relief._

 We spoke for a little while longer, Leli and the others telling stories of our travels during the Blight, me telling stories of fantastical things – technology and other things – from Earth.  I had to admit, by the time we were ready to leave, I’d been thoroughly charmed by the woman, despite my urge to keep my walls up.  She was still a manipulator, but a force for good, I was convinced. 

 Aedan, Alistair, Zev and I planned to sneak into the main chapel and then be seen praying, perhaps getting a public blessing from one of the Mothers there, as a cover for our visit; Dorothea asked Leliana to stay – to plan, I assumed.  Leli promised to meet up with us at the palace for supper.

 The new Grand Cleric pulled me to my feet and hugged me, when I tried to curtsy as we left.  “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I will do what I can; I swear it,” she whispered in my ear.

 “Thank you, your Grace.  But please, also remember…Leliana is an asset to you, but she is much, much more to the rest of us.  Please don’t forget, in all your plans, that we need her back in one piece when she’s done?”

 “I promise.”  I felt her nod, and she squeezed me once before letting go.

 “I hope to meet you all again sometime,” she said to the four of us.  “And remember, if you need me, I owe each of you for not only ending the Blight, but for keeping Leliana safe for me.  Should you ever need anything, if it is within my power, it is yours.”

 Aedan and Alistair bowed their heads gravely, deeply affected by the promise; I saw a smirk flash across Zev’s face, and I elbowed him firmly in the ribs before he could suggest anything lewd.  We both stifled a completely inappropriate snicker, and then we were sneaking down the stairs to the chapel.

 ***

 Chantry services were boring, I reflected later; we’d spent a good hour being preached at by one of the Sisters inside the chapel – not Sister Theohild, to my disappointment, because at least there would have been bacon in that sermon – and then Aedan had ostentatiously handed over a heavy bag of coin before we climbed back into the carriage and wended our way slowly back to the palace.  Every merchant in Denerim, it seemed, had been on the streets, oxen and carts everywhere, and the ride had taken quite a while.

 Zevran had made me chuckle with a pronouncement, once we were out of earshot of anyone in the Chantry: “Oh, she is very good.  I should like to take lessons in manipulation from her, yes?”  But to my relief, I was not alone in my assessment that Dorothea was a skilled bard – and yet, at the same time, sincere and benevolent.  Aedan also agreed; Alistair was caught somewhere between embarrassment at his implied naivety and outrage that we were at all skeptical of the ‘nice lady’.  I managed not to laugh, just patting his hand gently and changing the subject.

 Over the next two days, with the feared visit with Dorothea behind us, we shifted our focus back to the shipwreck.  The remainder of the ship’s survivors were questioned and released; no further details were discovered about the identity of the presumed inside man, and all of the crew believed he had drowned.  Cailan was disappointed – I knew I’d have liked to have someone to blame for Riordan’s death, and that must have been a stronger urge for him, given the guilt he felt at even unknowingly sending Anora and Riordan to their deaths – but to everyone’s relief, he seemed to have passed the hurdle of his own horror and inability to cope.  He had met with the demanding nobles, hand-selected a group of soldiers to bolster the ranks at Soldier’s Peak, formally visited and approved the new Alienage, and had started planning for a diplomatic trip to Nevarra.

 “Nevarra?” I asked.

 “Duke Anaxas is likely to be…displeased,” Cailan replied wryly.  “Anora’s marriage contract netted us some much-needed aid from Nevarra, through Rethnar calling in favours.  Now that I can no longer offer him a politically skilled wife to aid him in his quest for power…well, a royal visit should placate him.” 

 Even knowing it was hopeless, Thedosian geography being what it was, I had to say it.  “Just…tell me you’re not going by sea!”

 


	131. Separation Anxiety

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-One: Separation Anxiety

 

We left Denerim a scant few days later.  We’d managed to avoid Eamon – who was apparently accompanying Connor to Kinloch Hold – altogether, and saw Kallian only briefly, between her duties as Bann of the Alienage.  Cailan had ‘people’ looking into who would have attacked Anora’s ship, as did Leliana, though I doubted we would ever get closure on that subject.  Erlina had been locked up in Fort Drakon – but in a rather comfortable room, not a cell, and the reforms Cailan had brought to the prison meant she was unlikely to be abused during her incarceration. 

 Goodbyes with Wynne were difficult a second time.  She’d proudly showed me around her clinic before we left, and I was even more impressed.  There were separate quarters for mages and mundane healers, as well as for a small rotation of templars; in addition to the triage and treatment area I’d seen initially, there were a dozen or so rooms for patients to stay in while they recovered.  There was a special place for women giving birth, and a few rooms decorated for children.  There was a small herb garden to grow supplies – for potions, poultices, as well as food – and a kitchen and dining room staffed by Chantry sisters.  While they had a full rota of healers on staff, I knew they would miss Wynne when she left for Orzammar – and so would I.

 Leliana was getting on a ship – destination unspecified – the same day.  I knew I’d see her again within a few months – she’d promised – but she was my best female friend, and it was hard to lose her.

 Dougal, Loghain, and my newest soldier recruits for Soldier’s Peak accompanied us as we left; we would all travel together for the first three days, then Aedan, Alistair, and Zev would turn off to head for Vigil’s Keep, while I kept going with the rest.  Dougal would leave us at the tunnels leading to the Peak and head for Jader, but Loghain and the soldiers would come with me the rest of the way to my isolated Fortress.  Aedan and Alistair had decided that the former Teyrn would be allowed to stay in Ferelden as long as he didn’t draw attention; he could staff the Peak until the rest of the Wardens left Amaranthine for good.  Loghain was subdued for much of the travel, keeping to himself and retiring to his tent early at each stop.  That he was mourning was obvious, and put to rest any lingering concerns that he was complicit in any plot of Anora’s to fake her death.  _If that’s even what happened._

 We travelled much more slowly on the way back; not only was it much harder to move quickly with a large group of people, we didn’t have enough mounts for all of the soldiers Cailan sent me.  I took some time riding Sadie alone, improving my confidence, though I enjoyed riding with Alistair so much we still doubled up some of the time.  I was dreading the upcoming separation from my husband, and we took every opportunity to cherish our time together before it happened.

 My new travelling accommodations certainly didn’t hurt in that regard.  Now that I was travelling officially as the Steward of Soldier’s Peak, instead of the ratty tent we’d lugged around during the Blight, Alistair and I shared a pavilion that rivalled Cailan’s.  It had a curtained-off sleeping area separate from a larger room for meetings and the like; I had a small, thin mattress that could be rolled easily for transport, a portable desk, and two small folding chairs.  Heavy hanging tapestries muffled sound.  It granted a degree of privacy and luxury I would never have expected on the road, though I missed Sandal’s silencing enchantment.

 The soldiers had sworn themselves to my service, the same as Mhairi and the others, but I still felt weird commanding them.  Another woman had been assigned as their lieutenant until we reached the Peak, an attractive, though grim-faced woman ten or so years older than me named Avanna.  There were no other females in the ranks; I wondered if Cailan had chosen her because he thought it would make me more comfortable working with a woman.

 Before we went our separate ways, Aedan and Zevran sat me down and brought up some concerns that hadn’t even occurred to me as we travelled.

 “You must sleep in your armour and keep a weapon within your reach, _Bellissima_ ,” Zevran insisted, presenting me with a long, thin dagger that he strapped to my forearm, underneath the leather of my armour.

 “What?  Why?  We’re hardly going to be attacked by bandits on the road with this big an entourage,” I laughed.

 “It’s not bandits I worry about,” Aedan growled darkly.  He looked around and lowered his voice, leaning in closer.  “You’re going to be travelling alone with a large group of armed soldiers, almost all of them men.  If even one of them gets the wrong idea…”

 My mouth fell open in shock.  Sheltered as my Earth upbringing had been, it had never occurred to me that I was at risk with my own sworn soldiers.  I glanced nervously at a nearby campfire where six men sat playing cards.  “You think…one of them…really?” I whispered.

 Zevran shrugged.  “Not really.  I have spent a bit of time getting to know them, yes?  But the fact remains that you are a beautiful young woman, alone with many men who have little hope of satisfying any…urges…for quite some time.  If I truly suspected anyone, they would be dead, and his Majesty did a thorough job vetting them as well, I believe, but you must be prepared to defend yourself if need be, yes?”

 I gaped at the two men, mind racing.  I thought back to some of the encounters I’d had with men in Ferelden – trying to pull me out of a tree for some ‘fun’, and threatening Leli and me while we washed in the river.  _They may have a point._   “Does Alistair feel the same way?”

 Aedan snorted, and Zevran chuckled.  “I don’t think it has occurred to him, _cara mia_ , and it will not be me who puts the idea in his head, or he wouldn’t let you out of his sight.”

 “Nonetheless, you must be careful, sister.”  Aedan wrapped his arm around my shoulder and squeezed.  “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

 “I believe I can help,” another voice joined in, and I glanced up to see Loghain settle on a log across from us.  “I know many of these men, and most I would trust with my life.  However, not only as a woman but also as the Steward of Soldier’s Peak, you should travel with a personal bodyguard.  Virtually all of the nobility have bodyguards.  Your husband can help keep you safe when you are together, but you should look into hiring someone regardless – as should he, truth be told.

 “For the time being, until we reach Soldier’s Peak, I would be happy to oblige.” 

 I stared at the taciturn former noble in surprise; to my greater shock, neither Zevran nor Aedan objected to the idea, both eyeing me speculatively.

 “Or, if you do not trust me, I can recommend one or two of these soldiers whose loyalty you can trust.”  Loghain turned his eyes down, avoiding contact with me, his face very slightly flushed.  “Your lieutenant should also set her tent up directly beside yours, for both your sakes.”

 I glanced at Aedan, who shrugged, and Zevran, who nodded once, an encouraging smile on his handsome tattooed face.  _Loghain, as my bodyguard?_   I tried to picture it, but it was difficult to imagine him acting servile in any way, not to mention the fact that he wasn’t my favourite person to begin with, and it would mean spending a lot of time alone with him.  _At least he probably won’t be interested in polite conversation._   I didn’t really have another option.

 “I accept your offer,” I responded finally, “just until Soldier’s Peak.  Thank you, Loghain.”

 I doubted I’d said his name in his presence since…ever, really, and his brief surprised look confirmed I wasn’t alone in realising it.  I felt uncomfortable around him, given my knowledge of his actions – both those he’d taken, and those I’d managed to prevent – during the Blight.  That said, I also didn’t feel worried that he’d attempt to rape me, and he did seem to hold some deep loyalty to Aedan and Alistair, whether from gratitude or respect I couldn’t be sure.  _I might be uncomfortable, but I’ll be safe._

 Aedan later gave me his blessing to fill Loghain in on my background, if I wanted to.  Not that I needed permission, but it was interesting that he trusted the man that much.  I wondered, not for the first time, what Loghain had said to make my brother trust him; Aedan still wouldn’t talk about it with me, and from what I recalled from the game, the former Teyrn didn’t really have a good explanation for his actions.  I decided to wait and see how I felt after being essentially alone with him for a few days.

 The night before we parted ways, Alistair made love to me desperately, over and over, while I clung to him and tried to memorise his scent, the feel of his touch, and the beautiful look on his face as he held me and let himself go.  _There really isn’t a more attractive man in all of Thedas._   I finally passed out a couple of hours before dawn from sheer exhaustion; if I hadn’t, I wondered if he’d have kept us both awake all night.

 The morning came too soon, and I reluctantly buckled myself into my armour before helping Alistair with his temporary plate.  I hoped his new Archdemon Bone armour would be done soon; his old dragon bone had been destroyed by darkspawn in the Vigil’s sub-basement, and the plate was horrendously heavy and bulky. 

 Alistair caught me slipping the new dagger Zevran had given me under my bracer.  “What’s this?”  He pulled it out of the sheath, gasping as he cut his thumb on the sharp blade.

 “Gift from Zevran.”  I winked.  “To keep me safe from amorous advances.  So no getting fresh, ser,” I teased, taking back the dagger and re-sheathing it.  I wiped the blood off his finger with my sleeve.

 His eyes widened, but instead of amused, he looked horrified, and I sighed.  _I hadn’t wanted him to worry_.  “All those men…” he muttered, clearly distressed.

 “It’s okay, love.  Avanna’s tent will be right beside mine, and Loghain’s going to be my bodyguard until I can hire one.  Dougal will be there too.”

 He glared at me.  “You’ve thought a lot about this, and yet you didn’t discuss it with me.”

 I took his hand and pressed it to my cheek.  “I didn’t think about it.  Aedan and Zev did,” I explained.  “But I didn’t want you to worry.  I’m a big girl, and you know I can handle myself.  The rest is just for appearances.”

 He sighed, running one frustrated hand through his hair.  “Maybe I could just…”

 “No.  See?  This is why Aedan didn’t talk to you about this.  Go to Amaranthine, love.  Be the Commander of the Grey.  I’ll be back in no time.”

 He pulled me to him awkwardly one last time, kissing me sweetly.  “Maker, I’m going to miss you.  I love you, Sierra Theirin.”

 “And I you.”

 Once we finished packing, we stepped out of our tent, allowing a couple of the soldiers to fold away and pack the tent and furnishings.  I hugged Aedan and Zevran, and then stole one last, desperate kiss from Alistair.  The three heading to the Vigil bid Loghain and Dougal goodbye, and then they were off.  I blinked back the tears that threatened, turning resolutely away when they disappeared down the road to the Vigil.

 Travelling without any of my friends was much more depressing than I’d have predicted, had I stopped to think about it before it happened.  The soldiers were nervous and overly formal around me, and being mounted while they travelled on foot would have made discussion difficult anyway; Avanna was polite, but clearly not a big talker.  Dougal chatted with me some, but Loghain’s humourless presence didn’t encourage much small talk. 

 I still felt awkward riding on my own, though I thought I’d had enough practice that perhaps my butt and legs wouldn’t ache horrendously by the end of the day.  I considered walking and leading Sadie more than once, but each time I thought about it, Loghain, my silent shadow, seemed to guess my intent and shot me a disapproving frown.

 I sighed.  _It’s going to be a long trip._

 Camping was even more awkward; once Dougal and I ran out of things to talk about, I ended up going to bed early.  To my horror, Loghain planned to sleep in my pavilion’s antechamber.

 “No, no,” I objected.  “You have a tent.  Avanna’s tent is practically blocking my door.  I’ll be fine.”

 “And if someone decided to cut through the side of yours in the night, what use would I be then?” he growled, setting up his bedroll across the flap that led to my sleeping area.  “As your bodyguard, I must be nearby if I’m going to be any help, not two tents over and too far to hear you.”

 Chastened, I retired, sinking down onto my travel mattress in full armour, one dagger still strapped to my arm, and another under my pillow.  I felt ridiculous.  I could hear Loghain shifting, settling in to his bedroll, and eventually the sounds of the camp died off, but despite the quiet, I couldn’t sleep.

 I hadn’t slept alone in months, and the conspicuous empty space in my bedroll felt like it was taunting me; my armour dug in to me in places, and after months in Denerim and at Vigil’s Keep, I wasn’t used to it anymore.  Someone across the camp was snoring loud enough to wake the dead, and Loghain’s steady breathing on the other side of a mere curtain was distracting.  I was exhausted – my exertions the night before with Alistair had assured that – but nothing I did seemed to work.  I started counting sheep, and somewhere in the thousands, I finally drifted off.

 I woke the entire camp screaming, after a particularly bad darkspawn nightmare; I hadn’t had many since the Archdemon had died, but they weren’t completely gone.  Usually Alistair woke with me and soothed me back to sleep without much effort, but now I was alone and surrounded by strangers.  Loghain came bursting into my sleeping chamber, sword drawn; he gave me a very strange look when I assured him it was just a dream, but he let it drop, going out to calm the rest of the camp who’d also come running.

 I was more tired the next night, after such broken sleep; I slept heavily, and felt much better when I woke.  The third and fourth nights were also quiet.  The fifth night, the last night before Dougal would leave us and we would head into the old mining tunnels leading to Soldier’s Keep, I woke in the middle of the night to the sound of a thump, followed by a muffled shout and some grunting right outside my tent.

 I jumped up and palmed my daggers, trying to call out through a throat suddenly dry with fear; a moment later I was saved from my own fright by Loghain calling out.

 “Your Highness?  Are you alright?”

 “What’s going on, Loghain?” I replied hoarsely.

 “Found someone sneaking around the pavilion,” he informed me.  “It’s safe.”

 I opened the tent flap, daggers still in hand; the older man nodded approvingly at me, before stepping aside so I could see what he’d found.  On the ground at his feet knelt one of my soldiers, half-dressed and, judging by the smell wafting off of him, more than a little bit inebriated.  Loghain took a handful of his dark hair to tilt his head back so I could see his face by the dim light of the campfire.

 “Name’s Clem, my Lady,” Loghain helpfully supplied.  We had drawn a crowd, a handful of the other soldiers watching in apparent disgust.

 “Alright Clem, what were you doing prowling outside my pavilion?”

 “Wasn’t!” he objected drunkenly.

 “The fact that you’re here on your knees would indicate otherwise,” Loghain growled, shoving the man so he landed on his face in the dirt.

 “Wasn’t lookin’ fer you, m’lady,” he insisted again as he spat out some dirt.  “Was hopin’ that ‘Vanna mighta been interested…”

 I glanced to the woman in question, whose face flushed visibly red even in the near-dark.  “Already told you I wasn’t, nughumper!” she hissed.  Turning to me, she continued, “I swear, I didn’t…I wasn’t…”

 I interrupted her before she even figured out what she was trying to say.  “It’s okay.  Not your fault,” I whispered.  I turned to the assembled men, ignoring the blubbering drunken mess on the ground.  “All of you, hear this.  There will be no fraternizing – and no drinking – while we’re on the road, or when you’re on duty.  In your own time, when we’re safe and you’ve got a night off, what you do is your own business and I don’t care.  But anyone on duty caught with their trousers down – literally or figuratively – will be punished.

 “And just to be clear, right now: there is a zero tolerance policy for harassing unwilling partners.  If she – or he – says no, and I hear about you whining, begging, blackmailing, or otherwise not respecting that answer, you’ll find yourself awaiting trial for misconduct faster than you can say you’re sorry.  And rapists will lose a part of their anatomy they’re probably rather fond of.  You’ve been warned.  Now unless it’s your watch, get to bed.”

 I turned to Avanna, once the rest of the spectators had cleared out.  “You alright?”

 “Just embarrassed.  You didn’t…”

 “Yes, I did have to.  And it’s not just for you.”  I patted her arm gently.  “Spread the word, would you?” 

 She nodded.  “What do you want me to do with this?”  She gestured disgustedly to the man still lying in the dirt, now snoring noisily. 

 “Leave him until morning, then send him on his way.  Some village lost their idiot; hopefully he can find his way back there.”

 She snorted a laugh.  “Working for you is going to be interesting, I think.  Can I at least move him over there?  We’ll never get to sleep through that snoring.”

 I grinned.  “Be my guest.”

 With the help of another soldier, Avanna dragged the unfortunate Clem away from my tent flap, and I finally ducked back into the tent, Loghain on my heels.

 “Sorry I woke you for that,” he muttered.

 “You kidding?  Good job, bodyguard.  I didn’t hear anything until you had him down.”  I shook my head.  “Goodnight, Loghain.”

 In the morning, a dejected and very embarrassed Clem set off back towards Denerim while the rest of us bid goodbye to Dougal.  He hugged me, clasped forearms with Loghain, and headed out alone.  I knew he was capable of looking after himself, but still I worried.  He promised to send a message to the Vigil when he arrived in Jader.

 With a sigh, I turned and looked at the tunnel entrance at the base of Soldier’s Peak.  There was only one way in, though I recalled the tunnels branching impressively inside; I hoped Faren had succeeded with effectively marking the path, or we were going to be in trouble.  I nodded to Avanna, who started shouting orders; a handful of soldiers pulled out torches and lit them, and then one by one they filed into the narrow tunnel.

 I spent one more minute watching Dougal’s back as he rode away; he looked back and winked at me, and, smiling, I ducked through the entrance.

 Only to stop, awed.  The torches were rather superfluous; evidently Faren had gotten his hands on a bunch of the arcane lamps from Soldier’s Peak, and had lit the way through the tunnels almost as bright as day.  I stepped up to one of the lamps, inspecting it; he’d cleverly inset the small orbs into holes in the walls, clearly lighting the correct path.

 Loghain waited for me just inside the entrance, an almost-smile on his usually reserved face.  “You are being welcomed home, it seems, my Lady.”

 I grinned and strode to the front of the group, leading them to my new home.  There were multiple branches from the main tunnel, many of them dark - a couple were dimly lit, but it was never unclear which way we were to go.  The few steep places even had railings embedded into the wall so no one would fall.  The tunnels were all wide and tall enough to lead the horses, though riding would have been out of the question; Loghain led his horse and mine, and one of the soldiers led the two mules carrying our supplies.

 There were guards in the tunnels periodically, who saluted respectfully as we passed but otherwise left us alone.

 With the tunnels open to the sky in several places, it grew colder as we climbed, and we paused to don layers as the day wore on; it was late afternoon when we finally exited the tunnels into the frigid, snowy courtyard of the keep.  I grinned to myself at the gasps and slack-jawed expressions as Loghain and the soldiers saw Soldier’s Keep for the first time.  I looked over the area with pride; the building truly was impressive – massive, built into the mountain, with soaring towers connected by high, open walkways.  I couldn’t even begin to guess how many rooms it held, how many people it could house, not to mention what other things might be found in long-abandoned storage rooms and towers.  As much as I wasn’t thrilled with being there without my family, I had to admit I was looking forward to exploring.

 There were some new developments in the courtyard: a sparring ring had been set up, along with archery targets on the far side; a small barn and fenced area for horses was set against one wall.  A full smithy sat opposite – small, but completely roofed, with smoke pouring out of two large chimneys.  There were some ruined buildings I hadn’t really noticed before – whether they were meant to be barracks, a barn, or something else was no longer obvious – but they were halfway to being disassembled, stacks of wood – some obviously rotten, and some potentially useful – dotted around the courtyard.

 We were met, while everyone was still gawking, by Levi himself, accompanied by almost all of the soldiers assigned to the Peak, plus Faren, Bel, and Jowan.  A servant rushed up to take the horses’ reins and lead them away.  The soldiers hustled into some sort of formation, and at an unintelligible shout from Ser Mhairi, they all saluted formally; those who’d accompanied me from Denerim also snapped to attention behind me, returning the salute.  Surprised, I stammered, looking between an amused Faren and the female knight.  Seeming to take that as acknowledgement enough, she shouted ‘At ease!’ and the soldiers dropped their arms, shifting to a more comfortable, but still formal stance.

 I approached Levi who, if he had any opinion on the soldiers’ display, showed no indication of it in his expression. 

 “Your Highness!” he greeted me, eyes crinkling with amusement at my grimace.

 Not waiting for my response, Faren grabbed me in a hug.  “Am I glad to see you!  It’s really boring around here.”

 Bel shot him a dirty look, and Jowan just sighed.  I laughed and turned to Levi.

 “It’s good to see you again, Levi.  And it’s still just Sierra, okay?”  He nodded reluctantly, and I smiled.  Dropping my voice to a whisper, I leaned in so the soldiers waiting beside us couldn’t hear.  “Now what do I do?”

 “Just say something to the group and then tell them ‘as you were’,” Loghain replied.

 I turned awkwardly to the ranks of soldiers, nervous at the unexpected speech.

 “Um, thank you all for, uh, being here.  I look forward to working with you, and, uh, getting to know each of you better.  Ser Mhairi, if you can get the newcomers settled in and then come find me?”  The knight nodded.  “Right, then, as you were!”

 The soldiers fell out of formation, and Mhairi began shouting orders.  Avanna joined her, and the two were soon herding the entire group towards the Keep.  I watched them go, bemused, while Loghain nodded in apparent approval beside me.

 I finally got to greet Bel and Jowan, and Levi gestured towards the Keep.  “Shall we go inside?  I’ve got the braziers burning for warmth, and your quarters are ready, my Lady.”

 I followed Levi as he pointed out the improvements I’d already noted.  “My brother is running the smithy, if that’s alright with you; he’s already got a start on weapons and armour for the soldiers to choose from.  And we’ve got workmen starting to tear down those old barracks.  You can let me know what you’d like built there once they’re done.  We’ve got patrols in the mines, lookouts on the catwalk, and guards on the doors.  We’ve cleared enough rooms for the soldiers you brought with you and then some.  Got a cook and some helpers, a handful of maids, stable-hands, and the like in the servants’ quarters.”

 He turned to me, seeing my overwhelmed, tired expression.  “Beg your pardon, my Lady.  You must all be exhausted.  Why don’t I show you to your quarters and you can clean up while I get dinner arranged?”

 I nodded.  “I’d appreciate that.  Please invite Ser Mhairi and Lieutenant Avanna to join us for our meal?  Then we can all talk while we eat.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transitional chapters are necessary sometimes. So sue me ;)


	132. Unpleasant Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I don't own Dragon Age.  
> A million thanks to my fabulous betas, Kira Tamarion and Melysande!

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Two: Unpleasant Surprises

 I spent one very long, very trying week at Soldier’s Peak.  I had meetings with Levi, Avernus, Faren, Jowan, and Mhairi.  Avanna, being both older and more experienced than Mhairi, should have been put in charge of the guard at the Peak, but Mhairi’s organization and effectiveness had impressed both Faren and Levi.  And Avanna had requested, instead, to become my personal bodyguard, and the head of Alistair’s and my personal security details.  It would be her job to find and screen applicants to work with her, as she would need help to cover the both of us, potentially day and night when we were on the road or away from home.

 I wondered what Alistair would think of having a security detail.  _Who am I kidding?  He’s going to hate it, even if everyone else agrees it is necessary._   I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea either, but couldn’t really come up with a valid argument against the combined pressure of Loghain, Levi, and Avanna.

 Avernus was doing research – slowly, with his advancing age and declining health – and Jowan was learning much from him.  The unlikely pair of mages had developed a bit of a paternal relationship, which made Avernus seem much less ghoulish, and much more human.  Avernus didn’t have anything new he needed me to know, so the meeting was short, though he listened curiously to my retelling of my fight against the Archdemon’s general.  He was incredulous that the Fereldan Wardens had separated from Weisshaupt; his shock wasn’t surprising, given that his degree of ruthlessness seemed to match theirs.  But when offered the choice to leave and go to Weisshaupt, he immediately, resolutely refused.

 “I won’t survive the journey, most likely,” he explained, his voice whispery with age.  “Besides, I’ve been here for two centuries.  I’m not leaving now.”

 I was introduced to many of Levi’s extended family, and they all seemed like good people.  In return for a small salary and a place to live and work, Levi’s brother Mikhael agreed to outfit the guard with weapons and armour if I provided the raw materials; when he wasn’t doing that, he was free to do private commissions.  His work was exquisite, and like Wade who’d moved to Amaranthine, I knew he’d have no shortage of patrons.  Numerous other Drydens were either merchants, bringing in the much-needed supplies, or working in the Keep itself. 

 My quarters were a surprise, inside Soldier’s Keep: there was a small wing set aside for me, with four bedrooms, a small dining room, a sitting room, and a couple of other empty rooms I would be able to put to whatever use I chose.  My bedroom was large, with a massive four-poster bed – I wondered how they’d gotten that through the tunnels – as well as two comfortable chairs by the hearth and a bathing room.  My window had a lovely mountain view, actual glass in the pane, and a thick velvet curtain to keep in the warmth.  There was a private balcony, with thick well-sealed doors to keep drafts out; being on the backside of the Keep, it would be a lovely, private retreat where no one could see me, though the cold air would prevent me from using it often.  A second bedroom was attached – presumably in case Alistair and I chose to sleep apart, which would never happen if I had anything to say about it – but I kept the adjoining door closed and locked.  There was a guard assigned outside my wing to keep out any unwanted visitors, and a maid who would be dedicated to me when I was in residence.

 All alone in the large room and luxurious bed, I was miserable and lonely.

 It took me most of the time I was there to convince the maid Levi had hired – an elf named Maeve, who was probably ten years my senior, but looked twenty, thanks to a hard life – to call me by my first name and stop curtseying every time I turned around, but it was worth the effort.  She was both funny and very down to earth, and I knew I’d need someone like that to keep me feeling grounded in the years to come.  She shared the local gossip with me, to my amusement.  I convinced her to spread the word, both to the servants, the guards, and anyone else she could think of, that abuse would not be tolerated – not towards elves, women, children, or anyone else.  I wasn’t convinced they were likely to come to me with concerns, but I thought Maeve, who appeared to have warmed up to me considerably, would at least try.

 Loghain, Bel, Jowan, and Faren spent some time sequestered and talking ‘Warden business’; the two dwarves were shocked to see the man who’d supposedly been banished to Orlais, but seemed more grateful than bothered.  When the four of us met, Faren mysteriously suggested I ‘gear up’, and then refused to tell me anything else until I had changed into my armour, my daggers sheathed at my hips.  He led the rest of us through a warren of corridors, dusty and long-unused, and down several sets of stairs until we were clearly well below the Keep’s normal basements.  I glanced into as many rooms as I could as we passed, seeing mostly dilapidated furniture thrown haphazardly about, combined with boxes and crates that had so much dust they were barely recognisable.  _Clearly we’re going to have our work cut out for us…_

 I followed the dwarf past dungeons and areas of collapse that were completely inaccessible, before finally reaching what he’d obviously been aiming for all along: an enormous, round, metallic door built right into the wall of the keep.

 “A Deep Roads entrance?”  I paled, looking at the intricate mechanisms – intact and apparently functional, thank the Maker – and then back at the dwarf, who shot me a grim smile.

 “Couldn’t very well be a Warden facility without access to darkspawn, now could it?”

 I sighed, slumping back against the wall behind me.  “Is it secure?  Will it need guarding?”

 “Nah, it’s safe.  I went a ways down the tunnels, just to see what was there – couldn’t sense any darkspawn.  Don’t think this entrance has been used in centuries.”

 “Well, that’s something.  So I’m going to be living with a Deep Roads entrance in my basement?  Fabulous.”

 “There’s something else, though.”  Faren turned and pulled on the lever that would open the massive door.

 I fingered the hilts of my daggers.  “Of course there is.  What now?”

 “Easier to show you.” 

 Grabbing one of the arcane lamps, Faren led us a few hundred feet down a straight tunnel; I couldn’t feel any nearby darkspawn, though as all Deep Roads tend to, the sensation of the taint radiated from the very walls.  At the first branch, we turned right, ducking through a narrow opening into a vast chamber.  The ceiling was high, though compared to the length and depth of the room, it felt close anyway.  The far walls were barely visible even in the bright lamp-light. 

 It took me a moment to understand what I was seeing as I looked around the room: there were bars, some forming boxes and some from floor to ceiling, many rusted and some bent or fallen entirely.  Cages, I realised.  Dozens of them.  Small ones, the size of a mabari, maybe, and larger ones big enough for a person – or hurlock, judging from the corpse shrivelled up in the corner of one – as well as two massive structures with extra-thick reinforced bars, big enough for…

  _Ogres._   Someone had, at some point, kept ogres in cages.  _What in the ever-loving hell for?_

 I looked around a bit more; there were tables covered in paper near one of the smaller cages.  I tried picking up a piece, only to have it fall to dust in my hand.  The few intact sheets left on the table were so yellowed with age as to be unreadable. 

 “Was this Avernus?” I asked, still shocked.

 “He says no,” Jowan replied.  “When Faren showed me this, I asked.  Said it’s been down here longer than he’s been alive, which, given he’s two hundred years old, is saying something.”

 “What the hell went on here?” I wondered.

 Faren, pointing at what looked suspiciously like an arena, shrugged.  “No idea, but figured the bosses would want to know.”

 Slowly we returned to the keep, my mind racing with possibilities.  “And you found nothing else?”

 “Just empty tunnels,” the dwarf replied.  “I went far enough I couldn’t sense Jowan anymore, and figured I’d better come back.”

 “When all the Wardens are here, maybe we can mount an expedition,” I speculated.  “For now, leave that door closed, you hear me?”

 Bel, Jowan, and Loghain, the three Wardens who would be left behind, all nodded.  Faren closed the dwarven door with a resounding bang.

 Loghain cleared his throat.  “I’d suggest you clean out and block off these rooms, and post a guard at the end of the hallway.  These doors may be solid, but if darkspawn ever got into the keep…”

 I nodded resignedly.  “What’s one more guard patrol?”

 As we headed back up to my office – a large room with a desk, hearth, and small sitting area – Faren told me he’d spent some time exploring the mining tunnels leading to Soldier’s Keep as well.  “Most of ’em are dead ends,” he explained.  “Miners hoping to find a vein, and failing, or veins already mined out.  Two or three lead to viable ores – I marked those ones.  If you could hire some miners, Mikhael would have all the materials he needed.  I saw iron, veridium, silverite…even a bit of aurum.”

  _That’s certainly good news…I was hoping we wouldn’t forever be reliant on Cailan’s charity._ “Excellent.  Wonder where I can find miners?”

 “Orzammar.  There’s plenty of surface-caste miners.  I’d write to that Smith-caste fellow you have making those bola-launchers.  He’d know.”

 I slept poorly that night, dreaming of mad scientists, darkspawn experiments, and ogres.  I woke screaming, grateful I’d convinced Maeve I didn’t need her to stay in the little room set aside for servants.  I had an enormous, comfortable bed – but without Alistair in it to chase away my nightmares, I was miserable.  It didn’t help that my period had come – though I supposed the timing of that wasn’t terrible, at least.

 The next day I toured the rest of the fortress, Levi showing me the wings he’d converted into barracks for my guards, as well as the areas set aside for Wardens.  There were single rooms, each with beds and wash stands, like those we’d stayed in before, but he also showed me a wing currently undergoing renovations of what would eventually be little apartments for families, some with two or three bedrooms, all with small sitting rooms.  And there were several more floors and wings he hadn’t yet begun clearing, making me wonder just how many Wardens had once been stationed at Soldier’s Peak.

 Over the next few days, Levi and I made plans for the rest of the Peak.  After some discussion with Mhairi and the soldiers, we decided to build a small tavern and inn where the old, dilapidated buildings had been torn down; it would provide entertainment for the men, as well as places to stay for visitors who couldn’t – or wouldn’t – stay in the Keep.  When we discussed who would run it, I had a brilliant idea, and resolved to speak to Oghren about Felsi when I returned to Amaranthine. 

 I gave Levi free reign to manage things as needed until I returned, within a few hard-and-fast guidelines.  I wouldn’t allow racism or sexism; he was to hire the best person for the job, and I hoped we’d have a few elves join the guard as well as the Keep’s staff.  They were to be paid equally and fairly, their lodging provided, with no preference given for any race.  Each servant and guard was to have time off if they wished, at least every few months, to return to wherever they’d come from and visit family.  And family members of existing personnel would be at least considered for any position they were qualified for.

 Levi was anxious about my proposed salaries, much higher than was typical for the type of work we had to offer.  However, I insisted.  I wanted people to want to come to Soldier’s Peak, both to make up for the isolation of their posts, but also as an example to the rest of Ferelden.  Back on Earth I had seen enough companies go under due to undervaluing their personnel; when you needed to save money, cutting salaries was the last way to do so.  Conservatives were convinced that trickle-down economics was the way to go, but after dismantling multiple businesses, I knew better.  Economies were built from the ground up.

 Levi, Mhairi and I scheduled guard rotations so watch was kept at all hours of the day and night.  The guards were to patrol the basement, the tunnels, and the Keep’s grounds, and Bel or Loghain were to check for darkspawn at least a couple of times per day – without opening the great metallic door.  We also scheduled combat training for each guard at least weekly to keep everyone in fighting form.

 Bel was remarkably serene about being left at the keep with just Jowan, Avernus, Loghain, Levi, and the soldiers and staff for company.  I wondered if he had a bit of a crush on Mhairi; his stutter was gone, with Leliana’s training, but it returned with a vengeance every time he spoke to the buxom brunette.

 Jowan was still happy working with and learning from Avernus, and had no complaints being left at the keep.  I worried he and Loghain wouldn’t get along, given how they’d originally met and Loghain’s disdain for magic and especially blood mages, but they seemed to settle into a friendly enough working relationship, both assuring me they could work together for the good of the Wardens.

 Faren was chuffed to be returning to Amaranthine.  The dwarf had done good work at the Peak, some of which a non-dwarf couldn’t have managed – evaluating the mines for ore, for example – but he was a gregarious fellow who missed the camaraderie of the rest of the Wardens.  I looked forward to a time when, the Architect and the Mother both dead, all of the Wardens would be based out of the Peak.

 I had never been so happy to get back on the road, once I was finally ready.  Levi had his instructions, the soldiers were patrolling and training, the myriad staff were clearing out and readying the rest of the Keep, the builders were building, and I had a to-do list the length of my arm for once I got back to Amaranthine.  I put on my armour, bid Maeve, Levi, Avernus, Bel, and Loghain farewell, and mounted my horse, with Faren, Avanna, and the group of Nate’s soldiers who’d accompanied Bel to the Peak following me on foot.  We left Loghain’s horse at the Peak; Faren didn’t ride, we didn’t have enough horses for all the soldiers, and Avanna felt it better she walk with the others. 

 Avanna and Loghain had insisted I ride, to my chagrin; apparently it was inconceivable a ‘lady’ would walk, armoured or not.  _I wish they’d seen me during the Blight – covered in darkspawn blood, sleeping on the ground, hair full of leaves and twigs…maybe then they’d leave me alone.  This nobility tripe is for the birds._   Loghain had dryly suggested that I had a choice: ride, or he’d tie me up and throw me in a cart.  Avanna laughed, but I was less than amused at his wry sense of humour.

 Our trip was expected to take about five days.  Going on foot, our pace was slow – a fact that chafed at me, given how desperate I was to see my husband, brother, and friends again.  Especially Alistair; I’d had more than one erotic dream, scattered between the more frequent darkspawn dreams I’d been having, and I was frustrated beyond belief.

 The trip through the tunnels was uneventful; Faren pointed out the dimly lit side tunnels which led to useable ores, and I made mental notes so I could approach the dwarves for miners.  I was happy when we made it through, though; while winter was approaching, once we were out of the mountains, the weather was still warm and we were all able to shrug out of our warm clothes and enjoy the sunshine.

 I fell off my horse twice that day.  Apparently a week without practice was all it took to turn my hesitantly increasing competency back into complete ineptitude.  I walked for a while, discreetly collecting herbs for healing potions, trying to ignore Faren’s good-natured teasing.

 Avanna shared my tent, as Loghain had, with Faren’s nearby, and the first night was quiet.  The second night, darkspawn dreams – for both Faren and I – kept half the camp awake, and we were all a little groggy and worse for wear the following day.  Faren admitted he’d been having steadily increasing darkspawn dreams for the past few weeks, and it worried me – we’d been led to believe they would improve dramatically after the Blight, and they had for the first few months.  What could possibly have changed?

 It was while we were eating lunch the second day, in a small clearing just off the main road, that I first felt it: darkspawn.  Faren and I exchanged horrified glances, but the dwarf was quick to dismiss it. 

 “Just a raiding party, I bet.  I can only feel a couple.  We’ll get the Commanders and come back to clear them out once we get to Amaranthine.” 

 I nodded, my senses in agreement; there was only a small group to the north.  We decided not to tell the soldiers travelling with us, hoping to avoid a panic.  But within another hour, it became clear we had a much bigger problem.  A larger group to the south and three more clusters to the east joined the first group we could sense, and as all of them drew closer, my size estimate grew.  There must have been over thirty darkspawn between the five groups.  The only saving grace was that I couldn’t feel any ogres.

 As it became clear we were being surrounded, I dismounted suddenly, startling the dozen soldiers travelling with me.  I scanned the soldiers, calculating our odds of escaping, or fighting our way out.  Faren’s grim expression didn’t look any more hopeful than I felt.  Twelve soldiers, as experienced as they were, plus one Grey Warden and me, had slim chances against so many.

 My heart skipped a beat, realising there was a very good chance we were going to die.  _Alistair, I’m sorry.  What the hell are this many darkspawn doing away from Amaranthine?_

 “Darkspawn,” Faren announced to the group of curious soldiers; I was relieved at least that instead of panic, all of them tossed down packs and drew weapons like the professionals they were.

 Faren sidled up to me, murmuring quietly so only I could hear, “The way back is the only clear path.  Think we can make it?”

 I shook my head.  The groups I could sense were moving fast, and that window was about to close.  But it gave me an idea.  “Avanna,” I called.

 The heavily armoured warrior approached anxiously, her gaze flitting back and forth from my bleak frown to Faren’s equally hopeless visage.  “Yes, my Lady?”

 “How well do you ride?”  She was the only other woman in the group, the one I’d most want to keep out of the hands of the darkspawn, and if she was a good equestrian, she might be our only hope.

 “Quite well, though it’s been a while.”  Her suspicious gaze swept across us both again.

 I started pulling gear off of Sadie’s saddle.  “You’re going to mount up, and ride like the Archdemon itself is chasing you.  Ride back to Soldier’s Peak, send a message to the Vigil, and then bring everyone that can be spared.  The Warden Commanders need to know there’s about thirty darkspawn roaming the countryside out here.”

 “But…”

 “No.  We don’t have time.  You need to go.”

 “But, my Lady…”  She resisted me as I tried to chivvy her onto the horse.  “I have to protect you.”

 “You should be on that horse,” Faren growled.  “Get away and bring help.”

 “I’m not a good enough rider!” I snarled, trying to boost the heavily armoured woman into the saddle.  “And two on the horse will slow it down too much.  This is an order, Avanna.  As the Steward of Soldier’s Peak, I’m telling you, get on the damn horse.  Get out of here.  Ride.  Ride!” 

 I turned Sadie back towards Soldier’s Peak and brought my hand down hard on her flank.  I breathed a brief sigh of relief watching her gallop away, before reaching into the small pocket in my armour and fingering the tiny poison pill I’d forgotten to remove after the fight in the Vigil’s basement.

 “Not yet, damn it,” Faren grumbled, slapping my hand away when he saw what I held.

 “No, not yet.  But I’ll never be a broodmother, Faren.”

 “You need to get out of here.  They won’t be able to see you – just sneak away.”

 “If you think I’m leaving you all here, you don’t know me that well.  I’ll stick to the periphery, try to take out emissaries and archers, and if all is lost, I’ll get away…but I won’t run away without fighting.  I’m probably the safest person in this clearing.”

 With that, I turned back to my soldiers and ordered them to form up to face the enemy I could feel approaching.  I drew my daggers, standing off to the side where I wouldn’t be hit by arrows aimed at the soldiers; the only advantage we would have was my invisibility to the darkspawn, and I hoped to use it.

 It took longer than I expected for the darkspawn to come into sight; they came at us from all sides simultaneously, showing much greater coordination than I could have imagined.  _That’s not a good sign_.  There were mainly hurlocks, including several alphas, and one emissary.  The creature, dressed in tattered cloth robes, stepped forward ahead of the others, raising its arm; the others paused.

 “Be taking the Warden; kill the others,” it declared loudly. “The Father wants the woman.  Be finding her!”

 My skin crawled.  A sentient darkspawn, one of the Architect’s, presumably…and it was looking for me.

 


	133. Captivated

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Three: Captivated

 

The fight began about as expected – with flights of arrows.  The soldiers deflected the missiles with their shields, but one or two of the archers got lucky, and the first soldier fell, an arrow protruding from his neck.  The emissary began casting – some sort of lightning spell, from the feel of it – and I wrenched its mana away before it could do any damage.  Faren engaged with a number of hurlocks, swinging his longswords in arcs, cleaving indiscriminately, and a few of the soldiers went back-to-back, protecting each other from flanking.

 Still holding the emissary’s mana and using it for shields when I could, I began working my way through the archers.  It was difficult: though they couldn’t see me, they were aware of me, and I risked being hit every time I attacked.  I picked off those standing alone first, then started working on a group of six standing together to the north.  I’d slash at one and then drop to my knees or dodge out of range before its fellows could divert their attacks to where I’d just been standing.

 I spared a glance for Faren and the soldiers, shocked at the carnage; there were more than a dozen darkspawn bodies, some still weakly twitching, strewn around the clearing, with several human corpses scattered between – but the odds were getting worse.  Each person who fell had taken multiple darkspawn with him, but the sheer numbers of the monsters meant that Faren and four others were now standing together and virtually overwhelmed.

 And then I felt something that made my stomach plummet: a mana signature the likes of which I’d experienced only once before – when I’d fought the General during the final battle.  _That explains the coordination, then._   I skipped away from the archers I’d been targeting, closed my eyes, reached out and seized all the mana I could take.  It took an effort I hadn’t expected, almost as though I was wrestling with the creature I hadn’t even seen yet.  Sweat broke out on my forehead, and I clenched my fists and _pulled_ ; with a ripping sensation, I yanked the mana away, hearing a rough cry of alarm, or pain, in the distance.

 Finally opening my eyes, I wiped my nose irritably, only to realise it was bleeding again.  I pinched it between my fingers and then looked around, trying to reorient myself after an unknown amount of time psychically wrestling with a darkspawn mage.  When I was finally able to focus, I gasped, horrified at what I saw.

 The soldiers were dead – all of them, bodies torn up or fallen like leaves scattered across ground soggy with blood – and Faren knelt, a darkspawn wielding a wicked-looking jagged dagger against his throat while he panted with rage.  A tiny trickle of blood escaped from a wound on his neck where he’d obviously been nicked while struggling, and a larger red spot was spreading down his arm, blood dripping off his fingers.  And beside him was not only the first emissary, the one who’d spoken, but a group of hurlocks and two other figures as well. 

 The first I initially took as a genlock, wearing dirty but still obviously well-crafted armour; a closer glance showed long brown hair, far more than any genlock would ever have, and eyes far more alert and cunning than the black pools of most darkspawn eyes.  _A ghoul then.  A dwarven ghoul._

 The next creature frightened me even more.  It was tall, a good head taller than the hurlocks that surrounded it, wearing robes that must once have been fine garments, but were now caked with blood and filth, torn and ragged in places, sagging loosely across a skeletal frame.  Over top of the robes, it wore a complex, almost delicate piece of gold armour that wrapped around its chest and shoulders in a parody of human ribs.  One side of its face was damaged, whether formed that way or injured at some point I couldn’t say.  Over its half-melted face, it wore a strange mask, part helmet, part crown, with one side sweeping up into a sharp horn.  Deep chasms in its cheeks showcased decaying skin, but despite the unnatural grey colour and wounds, its face looked far more human than any true darkspawn.

 I had seen that face before – in my dreams, after the Joining.

  _The Architect._   And it was looking straight at me.  _Oh shit._

 The Architect was the source of most of the mana I held, and I wondered if some of its pallor was due to the unexpected loss of mana.  It – he, I supposed – raised a shaky hand and barked a command in a language I couldn’t understand, and the darkspawn all stopped moving.  Faren still struggled weakly, but desisted when the hurlock holding him pressed slightly harder with the dagger.  The ghoul – Utha, I realised – stepped up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder gently, and the Warden seemed to sag in place.

 I turned my attention back to the Architect, who was watching me curiously; neither Utha nor the other darkspawn seemed to be paying me any attention, though the emissary glared at me furiously.

 He opened his lopsided, ruined mouth, and the voice I remembered from my Joining dream issued forth.  “We mean you no harm.”  Utha looked up at him, apparently startled, but the rest of the darkspawn ignored the exchange.

 “Right.  No harm.  That’s why you’ve killed my soldiers?”  He didn’t respond, and I scoffed.  “Let my friend go, then, if you mean no harm.”

 The Architect…winced?  “I cannot.  I…need him.  What have you done to me?”  He took a few steps towards me, and I stiffened.

 “Stolen your mana.  Fun, right?  Take another step and you’ll find out what else I can do to you.”  I knew I could do my modified smite if I had to – it probably wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt.

 “Harm me, and I won’t be able to stop them from killing him,” he warned, but he didn’t take the next step, either.

 “Guess we’re at an impasse, then, aren’t we.”  I scowled.  “And I’m pretty sure taking his blood counts as harm.”

 “I will endeavor not to kill him, but I require Warden blood.”  He reached up and rubbed his forehead irritably, a gesture I’d seen time and again from people with headaches.  “You must stop this.”

 “I’ll stop when you let him go.  Otherwise, I hope you didn’t plan on using your magic ever again,” I bluffed.  _Hopefully his confusion means he has no idea what my abilities are, or how far they will extend._

 He glared at me through red-rimmed, rheumy eyes, then tilted his head slightly and turned to glance at Utha, who still stood near Faren.  She focused on him intently, and he waited a moment, head still cocked as though listening, then lifted a hand placatingly and mumbled something to the former Warden before turning back to me.

 “Enough.  We can discuss this further later.  For now, you will come with me.”

 “That’s not going to happen!”

 “Come with me, or your friend will die.”  The darkspawn holding Faren shifted, and Utha snarled – though whether at Faren, me, the hurlock, or the Architect I couldn’t be sure.

 “No Sierra!  Go!  He can’t stop you, and they can’t see you.  Go!” Faren shouted, struggling anew.

 Utha turned to him, faster than a snake, and struck him in the head with the side of her heavy gauntlet.  Faren collapsed in a heap, and the darkspawn holding him sheathed its blade before hoisting the dwarf over its shoulder in a fireman carry. 

 I cried out in fear and glared at the ghoul.   I wanted to scream at her, to tell her exactly what I thought of a Warden siding with a darkspawn against her own kind – but I knew she couldn’t hear me, and that she’d sided with the Architect over her own kind before.  The former dwarf pointed and grunted, and the darkspawn carrying Faren turned and started to walk away.

 “If you come, he lives.  If you walk away, I will drain him completely – I need his blood, not the rest of him.  The choice is yours.”  With that, the Architect turned and followed Utha to the north.  “Leave your weapons,” he added over his shoulder. 

 I hesitated for a moment.  _What to do?  Follow the psychopath in the vain hope he won’t kill Faren anyway, or leave my friend to die while I escape?  Avanna has gone for help – we’ll be rescued._   There really wasn’t much of a choice.  Sighing, I dropped my daggers, arranging the three – my two combat weapons and the arm sheath Zevran had given me – in a rough arrow pointing the direction the darkspawn were headed, and shouldered my pack.  _They won’t be able to hurt me, I think…the Architect and emissary won’t approach me without mana, and the others would be flailing about in the dark trying to reach me anyway._   With that small consolation, I followed behind the retreating darkspawn with a reluctant huff.

 We walked well into the night, the darkspawn seemingly unbothered by the lack of light; when I started to fall behind, tripping over unseen divots and roots, the Architect finally called for a halt.  Utha and the other emissary gave him strange looks when he demanded they stop, but did not openly object.  I sank to the ground gratefully, twenty or thirty feet from where they set Faren; Utha proceeded to tie the dwarf up and gag him before settling beside him, her gaze roaming suspiciously in my direction without focusing on me.

 I knew I couldn’t risk sleeping – not if I wished to keep the Architect from getting his mana back – so I sat cross-legged, prepared to wait the handful of hours until the sun rose.  I fished through my pack, found myself some rations, and nibbled on a bit of jerky disconsolately as I watched the darkspawn.  When the Architect wasn’t watching, I dug into my bag and pulled out the first thing I could think of – a dirty sock – and tucked it underneath me, hoping it would go unnoticed by the darkspawn, and help Alistair or Aedan find me if they tried to come looking.

Some of the darkspawn sat, some roamed as if keeping watch.  The emissary stayed near the Architect, its demeanour almost subservient as it waited for him to sit before it settled nearby.  The Architect eyed me curiously, gaze travelling between the two sentient darkspawn and me, seemingly fascinated that the ghoul could not see me, even knowing I existed.

 “How do you do that?” he finally asked.

 I glanced at Utha, her ruined face obscured by the darkness, and then back again.  I shrugged.  “You tell me.  You did it to me, after all.”

 If I could have seen his eyebrows, I could tell one of them would have been raised in confusion.  His expressions were disconcertingly human, and I shifted uncomfortably as I continued.  “I assume it was something like what you did to the Grey Wardens whose taint you accelerated twenty-five years ago in Ortan Thaig.”

 He appeared to be considering it, his head tilting in that familiar canine way; after a few moments, he shook his head irritably.  “Possible, I suppose.”  He paused.  “And how are you doing this?”  He gestured at himself and the ornate staff he had set beside himself, and I knew he meant his mana.

 I waved a hand at myself.  “Templar.”  When he didn’t respond, I clarified, “I’m a templar.  Well, something more than a normal templar, I suppose.  Also your fault, I think.  Look, my friend is hurt.  And a dead Warden doesn’t help you as much as a live one, right?  Let me give him this.”  I held up one of the small healing potions that I made whenever I got the chance.  “It’s just a healing potion.”

 He considered briefly, then nodded at a stump about a dozen feet from me.  “Put it there, and Utha will administer it.”

 I did, and the former dwarf retrieved it and carefully poured it into Faren’s open mouth after removing his gag.  Once done, she re-gagged him and sat down again.  I thanked the Architect, and he acknowledged it with a puzzled nod.

 He lapsed into silence after that, and I sat quietly, alternating between watching the stars, and watching the various darkspawn.  After a couple of hours I saw Faren stir, to my relief; he couldn’t talk, but I could tell by his aborted movements that he was awake and struggling against the ropes.  Not wanting him to hurt himself or panic, I called out to him.

 “Faren, I’m here.  Try to relax.” I wanted to remind him we’d be rescued, but I didn’t want the Architect sending any darkspawn against Avanna, so I held my tongue.

 He grunted, but the twitching stopped.  Shortly after that, the sky began lightening as dawn approached; without a word, a hurlock stooped to pick Faren up again, and I stood up reluctantly.  We walked the whole day, stopped only briefly to allow Faren and me bathroom breaks; Utha fed Faren some jerky from one of the soldiers’ packs I hadn’t noticed that they’d stolen, and I ate some of my own while walking.  The darkspawn didn’t eat, for which I was thankful – but it was also creepy.  _Where do they get energy from?_   I was grateful for the year of solid walking I’d done during the Blight, or I’d never have been able to keep up with the darkspawn’s unending stamina.  As it was, between no sleep, a few months of less exercise, and the crash after the previous day’s adrenaline rush, I was barely able to stumble along behind.

 Sometime in the evening, we came to a cave opening in the side of a hill; the darkspawn entered without hesitation, taking Faren with them.  The opening was narrow, and the entrance partially covered over with vines and grass.  I knew anyone looking for us would easily miss it.  I paused, inspiration striking as I gazed into the inky blackness beyond.

 “Wait!” I called.  The Architect paused just inside and looked back at me, and I gestured to the opening.  “I can’t see in there.  You want me to come with you, I’ll need some light.”

 He seemed to consider this, then hissed something at one of the hurlocks.  The creature ventured further inside, and the rest of us waited.  I bent down and fished through my pack, coming back out with a piece of jerky, taking an ostentatious bite; when the Architect looked away, I dropped another sock, standing on it so it wouldn’t be seen.  The hurlock finally returned carrying an unlit torch; the Architect went to light it, remembered I held his mana and he couldn’t cast, and then finally set the thing on the ground near the entrance.  I got out my flint – not wanting the Architect to see my Zippo – as I waited until he moved further inside, then retrieved the torch and, after a few moments of messing around, got the thing lit.

 With a deep breath and a last glance at my sock, which had gone unnoticed, I slipped into the cave behind the group of darkspawn, holding the torch in front of me.  It was less cave and more tunnel, heading quite steeply into the hillside.  I had to be careful on my feet – the dirt floor shifted and moved as I stepped on it, setting off small dirt slides as I went.  The air was stale and damp, the walls close and claustrophobic, and I concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths to keep from panicking.

 I’d never been so happy to reach the Deep Roads.  One moment I was crouching through a narrow dirt and stone tunnel, and the next I was standing on paving stones with a twenty foot ceiling above and statues of ancient paragons every hundred feet or so.  The section I was in stretched off into the distance each way, lit by the lava pools that were everywhere within the Deep Roads.  It was thoroughly saturated with the taint, messing with my ability to sense darkspawn.

 I followed the darkspawn to the left, then into a cross-cut, before finally coming out into a chamber with multiple warped wooden doors.  Several of the darkspawn turned and went through one door, but at the Architect’s gesture, I followed the one carrying Faren through a different door.  The room we entered was set up like a dungeon, with several barred cells; I protested uselessly as Faren was dropped into one cage.  The Architect opened a second cage which was beside, but at an angle to Faren’s, and gestured me in. 

 “No way.  You think I’m going to voluntarily go in there?”

 The Architect nodded.  “I cannot make you, I realise, but it is for your protection as well as mine.  I cannot control my brethren completely, and while they cannot see you, if they stumbled upon you by accident it would be…unfortunate for you.”  He paused and his tone changed, becoming more…sinister, somehow.  “And if you do not go in, your friend will die.  I only need his blood, after all.”

 He gestured, and I turned to see the hurlock approaching Faren with his dagger out.  Sighing in defeat, I stepped towards the cage.  “Leave your pack,” he commanded, and I set it on the floor outside the cell.  The Architect took the torch from me, setting it into a bracket on the wall, and then locked me in.  The hurlock sheathed his dagger at a growled command, but proceeded to tie Faren to a stone chair they had dragged into his cell.  I could see the dwarf through the bars; he had dried blood on his face and arm, but otherwise appeared ok.  It was the closest I’d been to him since he’d been captured, and I wondered how his wounds fared with only the small healing potion to help him.

 The hurlock pulled away the gag to a stream of profanity that would make a sailor blush; I chuckled in relief.  _If he’s able to invent new swear words, at least he doesn’t have brain damage._   I waited until the Architect and his darkspawn had left and Faren’s tirade had ended before speaking.

 “You okay?” I asked.

 He sighed.  “I’m fine.  Pissed at you, actually.  You were supposed to escape, not voluntarily climb into a cage next to mine!”

 I flushed.  “Yes, well, if me being a prisoner keeps you alive until we get rescued…”  He scowled, and I sighed.  “Faren, they were going to kill you if I didn’t come.”

 “So let them!” he shouted.  “I should have just killed myself and then they wouldn’t have had any leverage over you.  Ancestors’ asses, I’m good as dead anyway when that husband – or brother – of yours finds out, nevermind what this Architect has planned for me.”  He struggled against his ropes briefly before slumping down, looking defeated. 

 Thinking about Alistair and Aedan hurt.  I wondered how long it would take them to realise I was missing – which depended on Avanna getting away – and what it would do to them when they figured it out.  Tears threatened, and I wiped them away angrily.  _What would Alistair do in this situation?  Ah, silly humour.  I can do that._   I smiled wryly.  “Don’t worry.  They won’t actually kill you.  Maim you, maybe, or torture you perhaps, but not kill.”

 “Thanks,” he muttered wryly.  His dirty look was interrupted by Utha bustling through the wooden door carrying a large clay pot.  It looked familiar, reminding me of… _Son of a…it’s like the pot Avernus used when he collected my blood._   The Architect followed her, unlocking the door to Faren’s cage and allowing the ghoul to go through.

 Faren cursed and struggled as Utha untied him; she held him at knife point and gestured for him to relieve himself in a rough wooden bucket before tying him back down.  She kept one of his arms free, holding it tightly; the Architect, uncaring of his struggle, ripped through the blood-crusted hole in his armour with a dagger.  I could see a fresh pink scar – all that was left from his injury during the battle, evidently – but then my view was blocked by the Architect.  Faren gasped, then started cursing again as the sound of blood plinking into the jar echoed around the room.

 While we waited, the Architect settled into a rickety wooden chair outside my cell and regarded me quietly for a moment.

 Finally I broke the silence, unnerved.  “So how did you do it?  How did you send me away?”

 He blinked once.  “I collect books.  I spend much time in ancient ruins.  I found an old Tevinter tome that contained a spell to ‘send away’ a person’s mind.”

 “Did you know what would happen to me?  Where I’d end up?”

 He shook his head.  “I presumed it separated the spirit from the body, and that either the spirit would be destroyed or end up in the Fade.”

 “So you cast a spell you had minimal knowledge of, randomly, in hopes that it would kill me?”

 He sighed.  “How were you able to return?”

 I growled.  “I have no idea!  Apparently the spell was defective, or perhaps it wore off.”  As he contemplated this, I asked another question that had been driving me crazy for months.  “Why me?”

 He shifted in his seat.  “I had a vision.”

 It was my turn to blink.  “A vis- …you tried to kill me because of a vision?  What sort of stupid, delusional…”  I was indignant.

 “It is occasionally possible to divine the future, if you know how to look.  As I contemplated a plan to end the slaughter of my brethren-“

 “By making every human undergo the Joining and then accelerating their taint?  That idiotic plan?” I interrupted.

 He nodded slowly, looking puzzled.  “How do you know that?”

 “Everyone on Ear…uh, where you sent me, knows that was your plan.”

 He frowned, silent until I gestured for him to go on.  “My plan was interrupted by the loss of the Grey Wardens I attempted to recruit,” he paused and glanced at the ghoul still holding Faren’s bleeding arm, before amending, “most of them.  As I looked for alternate ways to advance my plan, I had a vision.  Of twins, a man and a woman, and somehow together they destroyed any chance of success.  So I looked for a way to prevent it.”

  “What sort of imbecile are you?”  I rubbed my forehead in sardonic amusement.  “Have you ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

 He just looked confused.

 “Where you sent me, there are people, philosophers and things, who have spent a lot of time thinking about the pitfalls of prophecy.  For example, what if you had a prophecy that you would…I don’t know...”  I thought about one of my favourite movies.  “That you would knock over a vase and smash it.  Because of the prophecy, you spin, looking for the vase, and bump it.  If you hadn’t been given the prophecy, maybe you wouldn’t have turned, wouldn’t have bumped it.  The prophecy came true _because you’d been told the prophecy_.”  I rubbed my forehead irritably.  “What if the reason my brother and I stop you is because of what you did to me?  To us?  Without that, we might have let you go.  But I can guarantee that, now, given the chance, my brother will kill you.”

 He gazed at me for a minute, and I imagined the cogs spinning as he considered what I’d said.  Finally he waved a hand dismissively.  “It no longer matters.  That plan became untenable for other reasons-“

 “-because it was stupid?”

 He continued as if I hadn’t spoken.  “-and I developed a different idea.”

 “Ah yes, killing the Archdemons.  Good job on that one – oh wait, that didn’t go according to plan either, did it?  Was it the Grey Wardens, as always, who did that?  Pesky details.  Does Utha know you started the fifth Blight?”

 Faren, who had been listening intently, suddenly choked.  “He started the Blight?”

 I nodded.  “That’s right, you weren’t with us yet when we talked about it.  Yeah, he did.  Intended to kill Urthemiel, and instead, tainted it.”

 “Because that wasn’t at all predictable.”  Faren scoffed, and Utha growled at him.

 “Enough,” the Architect demanded.  “We will speak no more about this.”  He stood, clearly completely offended, and it was such a human reaction that I had to bite my tongue to stifle a giggle.  He stalked into Faren’s cage, taking over from Utha and watching the blood collect in the jar.  Faren jerked against his hold unsuccessfully.

 I couldn’t see how much blood they took, but they let it pour into the jar for several long minutes.  Faren’s colour paled, his struggle slowly losing energy, until he slumped in the chair, barely awake, breathing shallowly.  Long before they were done, I was begging them to stop, worried they’d take too much – he’d already lost some blood during the battle, and I didn’t know how much more his body could handle.

 Finally they finished; the Architect tied a rag around the wound, as Utha bound his wrist back to the chair.  She then turned and left, lugging the pot of blood with her, as the Architect offered Faren a piece of jerky pilfered from my pack.  When the dwarf had taken a few listless bites and a drink from a water skin, the darkspawn offered a piece of jerky and the rest of the water skin to me through the bars and then left, but not before locking Faren’s cage.  The dwarf appeared to be half-asleep, mumbling incoherently as the sound of the Architect’s steps receded down the hall.

 I nibbled my jerky disconsolately, watching my friend warily; to my shock, once it was obvious that the darkspawn wasn’t coming back, he opened his eyes and sat straighter, giving me an impish grin.  Heart racing, I smiled back.

 “Asshole.”

 His grin widened, and then he flushed slightly.  “Hey, you had to seem really worried or they wouldn’t have stopped.”

 “I swear, when I get my hands on that bastard…”

 “Speaking of which, can you get us out of here?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are slowly improving for me, real-world-wise. Hooray! I'm scheduled for surgery in July, and my coverage finally came through. If the past is anything to go by, I'll hopefully be getting a bit more writing done with less stress, so here's hoping! If I can get enough ahead, I'll go back to weekly posting.
> 
> I want to thank each and every person who sends reviews. The numbers have declined dramatically over the last few months, which depresses me, though I'm committed to finishing this story even if no one reads it - but reviews really do help with motivation! Love it or hate it, even if it's just one word to let me know which, your feedback makes a huge impact on my writing. So please, please, let me know what you think! I'm adding tags for and editing the description to reflect that this story will continue into DA2 and even Inquisition.
> 
> I'm still working on some of those one-shot companion pieces you've all suggested too - I'm thinking they'll be the project for during my recovery, as they require less attention to detail as they don't mess with the overall story. It'll be good for drowsy and/or drugged up days :)
> 
> As always, I don't own Dragon Age. A million thanks to Kira Tamarion and Melysande, my fabulous betas.
> 
> And Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there. Being a mother is a crazy challenge - which I never understood until I was one - but also an amazing privilege. Keep fighting the good fight - it's worth it!


	134. Inescapable

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Four: Inescapable

 I spent a while unsuccessfully scouring my cell for anything that would help with an escape.  Clearly the Architect had gotten better at holding prisoners since the events of the book “The Calling” – unfortunately.  I found a few pebbles, some moss, but nothing that could be used to pick locks, nothing that could even be a credible weapon. 

 I examined the crude padlock in more detail; it was a massive, black, iron contraption that I’d have no chance at breaking.  It looked like it would probably be easy to pick – not that I had any such skill – but that would still require a pin or blade or _something_.  I searched my pockets, examined my clothing, but I had nothing.  My hair was tied back with a simple elastic.  I wasn’t even wearing my underwire bra; the stitching had started falling apart months before, and I’d switched to the traditional, if less comfortable, breast band. 

  _I must start carrying more stuff in my armour._

 “Nothing,” I declared in disgust.  “Who knew darkspawn made such good housekeepers?”

 Faren barked out a tired laugh.  “What are we going to do?”

 I sighed.  “Wait to be rescued, I suppose.”

 “Do you think she made it?”  His voice sounded unsure, almost frightened.  I couldn’t blame him.

 “Of course,” I replied, with more certainty than I felt.  _I hope_.  I couldn’t stand the thought that Avanna hadn’t made it; it would take days for Alistair and Aedan to realise we were missing.  They’d never find us.  “And I’m already picturing an angry Aedan decapitating that asshole.”

 Faren laughed.

 The night was boring, but also excruciating.  I was exhausted, between the battle and the sleepless night, but knew I didn’t dare fall asleep; there was no knowing what the Architect might do to me if I let his mana go – and I had to assume if I fell asleep, I’d lose it, given how much concentration it took to hold on.  For a while, Faren entertained me with stories of growing up in Dust Town.  It was clear he missed his sister; I hoped eventually he’d be able to go back to Orzammar and be near her and the baby. 

 “I wonder if she misses Bhelen?” I mused.

 “I imagine.  He may have been a mark, and she a noble hunter, but she told me he was kind to her.  I don’t know that it was love, but it might have become that, eventually.  It was good of Sereda to make her part of the Aeducan household, but she’s still casteless.  It’s not likely she’ll have suitors, or friends; I imagine she’ll be lonely.”

 I winced.  “Maybe…maybe you’re wrong.  Sereda was trying to fix things.”

 “It will take time, though.  Nothing changes fast in Orzammar.  My nephew will have a family, though, and status; that’s all I could hope for.”

 I promised myself silently that if we lived through this, I’d make sure Faren got to at least go visit.

 It was clear Faren was tired, and weak from blood loss.  When he started nodding off mid-sentence, I scolded him into trying to sleep – as well as he could while tied to a chair, at any rate.

 It was a testament to his fatigue how soon his snored echoed around the chamber; I didn’t mind, for once, hoping it would help me stay awake.  I contemplated trying to exercise or something, but couldn’t talk myself into it in my tired state.  Instead, I alternately stood and knelt, going for positions I knew I’d never fall asleep in.

 After a few hours, the torch sputtered out; not wanting to wake Faren, I sighed and continued my vigil in the dark.

 I held my bladder for as long as I could; they’d not provided me with a bucket or chamber pot, and the discomfort was helping me stay awake.  Finally unable to hold on any longer, I surreptitiously crouched in the back corner of my cell, nose wrinkled in disgust.

 Utha bustled through the door an indeterminate amount of time later, waking Faren with a start.  The ghoul carried a glowing stone of some sort, I assumed an arcane lamp something like those we used at Soldier’s Peak.  To my relief, she left it sitting on a small ledge jutting out of the far wall.  She proceeded to fish through my backpack, which still sat on the floor opposite from my cage; she found the last of the jerky, feeding it to Faren and offering him water from the spare water skin I kept.  She brought in two hurlocks to help guard him, then let him free to pee; she bound him to the chair again when he was done, and he was so exhausted he didn’t even struggle. 

 She didn’t bring me any food, even when Faren protested; I wasn’t that disappointed, given how unwell I felt generally, and just sipped at the water skin the Architect had left with me the night before.

 When Faren had finished eating, the ghoul administered a potion of some sort; by the dwarf’s sputtering, I assumed it tasted awful.  She didn’t answer – being mute, of course – when he demanded to know what it was, but if anything he seemed slightly less weak, less pale than he’d been before.  I wondered if it was like the potion Avernus had given me when he’d taken my blood.

 It was another few hours before the Architect came back; he settled in to talk while Utha once again began taking Faren’s blood.

 “How do you know so much about me?” was his first question.

 I considered.  _Is it dangerous to tell him?_   “I don’t exactly know how,” I began, “but where you sent me…there was books and things with information about Thedas.  Everything about the Blight, but also some about your past.”

 He glanced sharply at me.  “My past?”

 I nodded.  “I know about Genevieve.  And Bregan.  The deal you made with that Orlesian mage from the Circle…”

 “But that’s all?”  He looked…relieved.

 “I think so.  At least, if there’s more, I hadn’t read them.”

 “But…who wrote them?”

 “Just a man.  I never met him.  I’ve no idea where he learned what he knew.  People there considered it fiction; they would read them for entertainment.”

 “Fiction?”  The darkspawn looked puzzled.

 “Not real.  Made up.  Just for fun.  Like…a fairy tale, or something.”  He didn’t respond.  “You don’t know what fiction is?”

 He just tilted his head slightly. 

 “Well, you read a lot, right?  Have you ever read books about, I don’t know, like talking animals, or something impossible like that?  Events that never happened?”  He tilted his head further.  “Well, that explains a few things.  Not everything people write down is real, or true.  Sometimes it’s just a story.  Anyway, somehow someone there knows a lot about Thedas.  I didn’t know it was real until I came back.”

 He thought about this.  “So what else do you know?  What happens next?”

 “I don’t really know.”  I wasn’t going to tell him about the events of the second game, especially about Corypheus.  _Knowing my luck he’d try to break that maniac out of the Warden prison.  I want Hawke to kill him._   “After this feud between you and the Mother…”

 “The Mother?” 

 “Yeah, you know.  The…” I trailed off as he stared at me blankly.  “You don’t know?  Wait, how many darkspawn have you given Warden blood?”

 He grimaced, the expression especially disgusting on his damaged face.  “Very few, successfully.  The blood I had came from Utha, but it does not always work.  Many of them die, and some are…unstable.  I postulated a better response with blood from a Warden whose taint was less advanced.”

 “But we stopped your idiotic invasion plan in Amaranthine.”  My heart leaped in my chest.  “Does that mean you haven’t put any Broodmothers through your modified Joining?”  _Could it be?_   I leaped to my feet, approaching the bars and gripping them tightly.

 He stood and backed away from my cell uneasily.  “I have not.”

“Don’t!”  I pressed against the bars pleadingly.  “They’re not stable.  Like, the worst reaction you’ve seen, a hundred times worse.”  I didn’t know if it was true for all Broodmothers or only the Mother, but it didn’t matter.  I’d take any chance to keep the Mother from being freed. 

 He looked skeptical.

 “You’ll end up fighting a war against an army raised by angry Broodmothers who want their ‘beautiful music’ back.  Some new, horrific, mutant darkspawn that look like giant bugs will be born.”  I shuddered as I thought of the Childer grubs, the Children…  “Hundreds of your kind will die, with my people caught in the middle.  You’ll end up begging the Wardens to fix your mistake.”

 He scoffed.  “And why should I believe you?  You have demonstrated that you are opposed to my plan.  You could be lying.”

 “But I’m not.  Look at me.  I’m desperate.  You don’t want your brethren to die?  Then don’t free any Broodmothers.  Please, you mustn’t.”

 He sighed, breath gusting out with a wheeze.  “I must.  How else can my brethren reproduce?  I do not have enough Warden blood to administer to every darkspawn, but with one freed Broodmother, entire generations of my kind could be free.” 

 The reproduction issue was one of the reasons I always – in every play through – killed the Architect.  Either he’d be allowing his sentient darkspawn to turn women into Broodmothers, or he’d try again and end up with another unstable Mother, and I would never allow that.  Not that I was going to tell him that.

 “I know what you have planned, but I promise you, it won’t work.”

 He ignored me and stepped into Faren’s cage with Utha; only then did I notice the dwarf was virtually unconscious, slumped in his chair, his skin clammy and pale.  I cried out in alarm, but the Architect just bound the wound and helped Utha tie him up again.

 “Please, you have to stop.  Let him rest.  You can’t keep taking his blood like this!  You’re going to kill him.”  I had so many demands…I knew I’d be ignored, probably for all of them, but I had to try.  “Please, just for a few days.  Let him make more blood.  He needs to eat, too.”

 The tall darkspawn turned to me.  “We are out of suitable food.  I have sent out a hunting party, but my brethren are not accustomed to slaughtering animals for human food.  I hope to have some later.”  He coaxed some water down Faren’s throat, making the dwarf sputter and cough; he offered me some water from a crude water skin that was blackened and peeling, but I declined in favour of the little amount left in my own.  _I don’t even want to know what that water skin is made of._  

 He turned to leave, and I tried one more time.  “Please, you have to listen to me.  Don’t free any Broodmothers.”  Ignoring me, he went through the door.  “Please!  Don’t do it!” I hollered at his back, slumping down despairingly as the door swung shut.

 Faren remained barely conscious for several hours, stirring periodically but mostly sleeping awkwardly in his chair.  Bored and exhausted, I struggled to stay awake, more than once being startled back to alertness when I felt my grip on the Architect’s mana slip.  I’d never tried staying awake for days before, and wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to hold out.

 It was then the waking dreams started. 

 I supposed they’d count as hallucinations, and at first, they were about what you might expect for a person who’d been sleep-deprived for so long.  I dreamt of freedom and the outdoors, or cuddling up with Alistair in a massive, soft bed covered in warm blankets.  Some of them bordered on erotic, to my embarrassment.  And then Faren would stir, or some noise would filter through the door from the darkspawn beyond, and I’d be awake again, scrambling to solidify my hold on the Architect’s mana.  I had some waking nightmares, too – darkspawn closing in, the sensation of the taint, the Mother shrieking at her Children – and from those, I’d wake screaming. 

 By far the most frightening, however, were dreams of Earth.  I’d get glimpses of a hospital room, or my doctor’s anxious face; it disturbed me, because I couldn’t be sure they weren’t real.  _What if I become so exhausted that somehow I slip back there?_   If I just disappeared, I knew there was no way Faren would survive.  The Architect would assume I’d escaped and kill the Warden, taking as much of his blood as they could before running away.  I couldn’t let that happen.  I crouched in a corner, rocking helplessly, trying to maintain my concentration to keep control of the Architect’s mana, repeating a mantra that amounted to “don’t go back,” over and over.

 Faren became more alert after a few hours, and tried to help me stay awake, talking to me or shouting at me when I drifted off; he kept telling me to go ahead and go back to Earth, to get free and go find Aedan and Alistair, but I refused.  Sadly it was clear it was a losing battle – eventually I would either fall asleep or go back to Earth.  But I was determined to hold on as long as possible.

 Some time later, the door opened, and the emissary came in; it startled me from a dream of being in Alistair’s arms, safe, and I almost sobbed in disappointment when I realised it wasn’t real.  The darkspawn mage was glaring at me, expression murderous, but it held out something through the bars, gesturing for me to take it.  I was tempted to grab its arm and pull, bashing its head into the bars, but knew Faren would pay the price, so instead I held out my arm, palm up.  It dropped a slimy, warm lump into my hand, and I looked down to realise it was some sort of meat – half cooked, partly charred, stringy meat with the juices still running off of it.  I gagged.

 The emissary went into Faren’s cell and started feeding the bound dwarf more of the same; Faren, never as picky an eater as I was, took several bites, but even he had trouble chewing it and getting it down.  I stared at the mass in my hand, debating with myself about whether to eat it, when Faren asked the question I’d been dreading the answer to.

 “Ancestors’ asses, what sort of meat is this?”

 The emissary didn’t answer right away, giving Faren a few large gulps of water and then dropping the water skin where I could reach it.  It relocked Faren’s cage, and then paused at the door on its way out, with what I could have sworn was a smirk on its tainted face.

 “Horse meat,” it finally answered.

 I dropped the meat I held like it was poison, jumping away from it with a disgusted gasp.  Faren groaned in revulsion.  The two of us shared despairing glances, before the tears came and disturbed my vision. 

  _Horse meat._  

 There was no nearby road, no major trail that I was aware of, no farms.  There should not have been any human traffic where they could capture a horse for meat.  No horses lived in the Deep Roads.  The only likely nearby horse was the one I’d sent Avanna off on, when we’d first sensed the darkspawn.  The timing was off; Avanna should have been safely back at Soldier’s Peak by then…but clearly, something had gone very, very wrong.  And if they’d found the horse, they’d more than likely found the woman, too.

  _They tried to feed me Sadie._   I might not have been fond of horseback riding, but my borrowed steed had deserved better than that.  And poor Avanna, the woman who’d volunteered to be my bodyguard, was probably captive, somewhere.

 “What have you done with her?” I heard Faren demand, obviously coming to the same conclusion I had.  “Where’s the woman?”

 The emissary gurgled a mocking laugh as its only reply.

 “You’d better not have harmed her,” I shouted.  Still laughing, the darkspawn closed the door behind itself as it left.  “I’ll kill you!”  I got no response.

 I slumped to the ground, defeated.  _For all I know, she’s already being turned into a Broodmother._   I heard Faren mutter some comforting nonsense, but all I could do was put my head in my hands and cry.  _And the worst is, I don’t know if I’m crying harder because of  what they’ve done to her, or because I’m not going to be rescued._

 I prayed for a while, fully feeling the hypocrisy of praying to a Maker I wasn’t sure I believed in and never honoured when I wasn’t in dire straits.  Faren, in his brief bouts of alertness, kept encouraging me to go back to Earth.

 “I’m not leaving you here!”

 “Sierra, they need to know what’s happened here.  You need to go and find the Wardens and bring them here.  You need to defeat the Architect and kill the Mother before she can try to destroy Amaranthine.  You know this!  My life isn’t worth all that.”

 “I can’t, Faren.  I’d rather die.  I can barely live with myself after Duncan…”  I gulped, wiping tears from my eyes irritably.  “I just can’t.”

 He growled impotently with frustration.  “Fine, you won’t leave me…then help me kill myself.  Deny this bastard what he wants.  You still have that suicide pill?”  I nodded, pretty sure I wasn’t going to like where he was going.  “Next time they offer you water, put the pill into the water.  It will dissolve, and I’ll drink it.  Please, I’m begging you.”

 I shook my head, mouth open in horror.  “No way.  No _way_!  I won’t even leave you behind to let the darkspawn kill you, and you think I’m going to do it myself?”

 “You won’t be,” he pleaded.  “I’ll be doing it myself.”

 “And somehow being an accomplice isn’t supposed to bother me?”

 “It’s my life, Sierra.  I was supposed to die in that Carta dungeon, and you saved me.  I could have died any time between then and now – in the Joining, in battle…let me choose.  Please, help me choose when I die.”  He looked away, pain written in every filthy line on his face.  “I’m not going to survive this unscathed, not if they keep going.  And who knows what terrible things he’s going to do with my blood?  No.  Please.”

 “I…alright, look.  If I get to the point where I know I won’t be able to hold on any longer…when it gets to that point, I’ll do it.  But not before then.  Okay?  I’ll do it and then go back to Earth.  But not yet.”

He nodded, expression actually grateful.  Hating myself, I covered my face again and tried not to cry.

 Between my already tired state and the soul-wrenching sorrow, it was much more difficult to stay alert.  The Architect came back and tried to talk to me at some point; I was too confused, too disoriented to reply – especially once it was clear he wouldn’t discuss Avanna or Broodmothers.  He gave up after a few minutes and left us alone.  Faren drifted in and out of consciousness as Utha came once more to take another jar of blood.  I crouched in a corner of my cage, arms around my head protectively, and rocked. 

  _What am I going to do?  I put myself in this damn cage, and no one knows we’re here.  It’ll be days, if not weeks, before anyone realises we’re missing, and by then it will be too late.  I can’t stay awake forever, and the minute I lose my hold on the Architect’s mana, there’s no telling what he will do to me…assuming I don’t end up back on Earth.  And then Faren’s death will be my fault._   I thoroughly regretted my stupid promise to Faren – not that I wanted to see him killed by the Architect, but I knew I’d never be able to face myself in a mirror if I survived and he didn’t.

 The waking dreams got worse, both more frequent and more immersive; jerking up with a start from a particularly disturbing dream of becoming a Broodmother, I wondered if I would even know it when I crossed the line and could no longer tell my dreams from reality.  Briefly I felt relieved – _perhaps I won’t have to kill Faren after all, if I’m too addled to tell when it’s time_ – and then immediately felt guilty.  _I promised, and he’s not wrong._

 The next time the emissary came in, I requested water, and it handed over a skin for me to drink from while it force-fed Faren more of the improperly cooked horse meat.  I caught Faren’s eye, and at his firm nod, I dropped the little poison pill into the skin, hands shaking with remorse and guilt.  When Faren drank, I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate – between vivid and horrifying dreams of death and darkspawn – on Earth.

 “I’m sorry,” I whispered to Faren, after the emissary left.  “I’m so sorry.”  I choked on a sob.

 “It’s okay.  This…it’s a good death.  It’s okay,” he repeated.  “Listen, when you get out of here, will you go see my sister?  Make sure she’s okay?  And tell my mother…tell her I love her.  She was a terrible mother, but I love her anyway.”

 I nodded jerkily.  “I will.  I promise.  I…Faren?  Faren!”

 The dwarf didn’t respond, head dropping onto his chest, breath rasping, chest heaving.  I turned away, too distraught to watch, and curled up, kneeling on the floor.  _Go back,_ I willed myself.  _Go back to Earth.  I don’t want to stay here and watch this.  Go back, go back._  I covered my head with my arms, bawling, trying not to fall asleep.  _Go back!_

 I don’t know how long I knelt there, despondent and afraid; I didn’t stir even when I felt a new mana signature come near.  _No!  A new emissary!_   Without opening my eyes, without even moving, I reached out desperately, grabbing for the mana.  I felt my nose begin to bleed again, my unique templar abilities already overworked and overwhelmed.  I couldn’t even summon the energy to wipe away the blood.

 I sobbed when I felt another, and then another new mana signature.  I knew there was no way I’d be able to hold their mana, and I was too exhausted for my large smite, or whatever it should be called.  I tried, I really did, but it was no use.  _So that’s the Architect’s new plan: get enough emissaries in one place, so I can’t take all of their mana.  What is he going to do to me?_   I curled in on myself tighter _.  Go back!  Now, Sierra!  Before it’s too late!_

 I heard a noise at the door, and finally worked up the energy to look.  I started crying harder when I realised I was having another waking dream.  Imaginary Alistair, followed by Aedan, Bel, Jowan, even Loghain came through the door, weapons drawn.  _I must be in bad shape if I’m imagining **Loghain** as an avenging angel, sword raised high and eyes flashing._

 “No!  No,” I sobbed.  “No more.  I can’t take more dreams.”  I closed my eyes resolutely as imaginary Anders and Solona showed up, and imaginary Zevran picked the lock to my cell.  “Go back!  Go back, go back, go back…”

 Imaginary Alistair was talking; I put my hands over my ears and continued my mantra.  Imaginary hands stroked my back, and cold fingers brushed my forehead.

 The world went black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, horrible cliffhanger. I'm sorry! I can't help it. Don't lynch me :)
> 
> A million thanks to all of you - new and previous reviewers alike - who took a moment to send me a note. It gets disheartening thinking that people aren't enjoying what you write, and it makes the motivation harder. I appreciate each and every one of you who read, who fav/follow and who review. Thank you thank you. 
> 
> And thanks for the personal well-wishes - things are looking up, and it shows in how easily my writing is coming. Here's hoping I get some of those one-shots done, and maybe even eventually get back to weekly updates!
> 
> A brief note, however: I will not tolerate abuse or trolls. It's happened less than a handful of times since I started writing this, but each time is memorably unpleasant. If you don't like something, please let me know - politely. I am an amateur author, I write without hope of monetary gain, and I don't think asking for respect is too much to ask. I am open to constructive criticism, and will even change things if someone raises a good point - or points out typos, grammar mistakes etc - but I do require you not to be rude. The first offense will get a warning; after that you will be reported and blocked. Please don't make me block people! And I'd like to say, I'm in the enviable position of having a number of loyal fans across a few sites whose reviews and numbers help keep me from taking a troll too seriously - and I'm a relatively confident person who's been writing for a long time and doesn't get scared off or offended easily. This is not true for every amateur author - on this site or many others. And rude, negative, non-constructive reviews may have the effect of silencing new or insecure authors. So as readers, if you want stories to read - at no cost to you, and personal significant sacrifice on the behalf of the authors - you should think about that before you say something unkind and permanently silence someone who could be an amazing author.
> 
> There. I'll step off of my soapbox now.
> 
> As always, I don't own Dragon Age. And please send my fantastic betas, Kira Tamarion and Melysande, some love for all their hard work over the last four years!


	135. Apparent Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the NSFW version of this chapter including descriptive sex. If that doesn't appeal to you, you can find an edited version on fanfiction dot net.

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Five: *Apparent Anger

 

The first thing I noticed, when I could finally feel anything again, was that I’d let go of all the mana I held.  Panicked, I scrabbled for it before even opening my eyes…but there wasn’t any.  I couldn’t sense a single mage.

 That startled me enough to make me start noticing other things.  I was lying in a bed, for example, not the hard rock and dirt floor I expected, and it was warm – warmer than I’d been in what felt like a very long time.  As I mentally took inventory of my situation, it also became clear, from the lack of itch and general stickiness, that I was blessedly clean.  My scalp wasn’t prickly, my hair wasn’t plastered to my face, and there was no dried darkspawn blood cracking in the creases in my skin.  And while I felt gloriously well-rested, I was also stiff and sore, and had to wonder how long I’d been lying there.

 I must have twitched, or maybe it was the change in my breathing, but before I had time to think about anything else, I was being picked up and turned, and found myself sprawled across the firm body of my husband, face buried in his neck; he held me tight, whispering comforting nonsense in my ear.  I took a deep breath, inhaling his unique scent, pressing myself tighter against him.

 I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t some new hallucination, some misfiring of sleep-deprived neurons or possibly even some ploy by a desire demon who’d managed to make my exhausted, screwed-up mind its home…but at that moment, I didn’t care.  If I was that deep in a hallucination so vivid, I’d already lost my hold on reality – never mind the Architect’s mana, and he’d had all the opportunity he needed to do whatever he wanted to me.  I was as good as dead already.  _So I might as well enjoy what I can get before I go._

 I spread my legs, straddling Alistair’s hips awkwardly, the material of the nightgown I was wearing pulling uncomfortably.  Before he could say anything, I sat up, eyes still closed, and worked the gown over my head, tossing it in a random direction, leaving me naked.  I finally opened my eyes and looked down on the gorgeous man underneath me; his face was slightly flushed, his eyes wide as he seemed to be struggling to keep his gaze on my face, away from my naked flesh.  I smirked.

 “Sierra…” he began, but before he could finish the sentence, I leaned down and captured his lips in a searing kiss.  He seemed about to object, so I slipped my tongue into his mouth when it opened, tasting him, devouring him, my fingers sliding into his short, sandy hair to pull him harder to me.  He groaned when I rocked my pelvis against him, and I could feel him hardening underneath me.  His hands came up to grip my hips, whether to stop me or pull me closer I wasn’t sure.

 My brown curls fell around us in waves, curtaining us off from the world; it was like no one else existed, and I had to admit it was possible no one did, being in my hallucination like we probably were.  I spent an eternity just kissing Alistair, exploring his mouth with my tongue like it was the first time.  He just let me, teasing me with his own tongue, panting softly when I pulled away to breathe, and letting me set the pace.  After everything I’d been through, it was heaven.

 Untangling my fingers from the hair at the nape of his neck, which was a little longer than I was used to, I stroked my fingers down his ears, relishing the shudder that caused, then down his strong neck.  I reached the neck of his shirt and began undoing the laces there with a sniff of irritation.

 “Not a desire demon,” I muttered to myself, amused that I was so rationally pondering that possibility even within a waking dream.  “Too many damned clothes!”  I thought I heard him chuff out a slight laugh, and I smirked as I hauled his shirt up; he half-sat up to help me peel it off.

 And then I had my hands and mouth on him.  I sucked at the taut cord of muscle in his neck, while I stroked his broad shoulders, his muscular biceps, his washboard abs and bulging pecs.  I buried my nose in his sparse chest hair, treasuring his smell and his little gasps of pleasure as I gently pinched and rolled his nipple.  I explored the tantalizing recess of his belly button with my tongue while I gripped his waist with desperate strength, afraid he would disappear on me again if I let go.

 And he responded, moaning and writhing underneath me, arching his back and gasping for breath under my relentless assault.  He let me set the pace, take what I needed, even though I could feel his erection pressing against my belly, his hands fisted in the sheets to stop himself from grabbing at me and taking over.  I could practically taste his yearning for completion.

 When I finally tackled his soft sleeping trousers, I heard him mutter praise to the Maker as he scrambled to help me get him naked.  I gave the length of him one long, languorous lick and a firm suck, and then I was crouched above him, lining him up with my needy channel, sinking down to take him in with a strangled groan.  I was so wet, so desperate, that I took him to the hilt in one smooth slide, both of us crying out at the fulfillment of being joined.

 I waited there for a moment, allowing my fluttering sheath to become accustomed to the intrusion, and finally he could take no more.  He sat up, pressing his chest to my sensitive breasts, one hand immediately tangling into my curls as he dragged my face to his for a soul-shattering kiss, the other hand squeezing my hip hard enough that I knew he’d leave bruises – and then he started to move me.

 I lifted my hips and slammed down onto him, matching the rhythm he demanded from me, rubbing my pebbled nipples against his chest as he plundered my mouth.  I felt taken, possessed, but also so powerful, knowing I could bring this man to such heights of desperation.  I had control, if I wanted it.  Instead, I surrendered to him as he had to me, and we moved together instinctively, climbing toward our peaks together.  I raked my nails across his back, sobbing as I felt the resulting surge of his hips under me, and then I was screaming and falling as my orgasm overtook me.  I barely noticed when his rhythm suffered as he spilled inside me, as overwhelmed by white-hot pleasure as I was.

 Sated, my overtaxed mind finally returning to me, I lay sprawled bonelessly across his chest, his softening length still inside me.  I took a deep cleansing breath as he finally slipped out of me, rolling me to one side and wrapping his arms around me protectively.

 “You’re real.”  It wasn’t really a question; the hallucinations I’d had, while confusing, had lacked the scent, the feel of my husband, and the overwhelming warmth of the taint running through his veins.  I’d been too disoriented to notice at first, but it was more than obvious once I had my brain engaged.

 “Last I checked,” Alistair responded; I could hear the amusement in his voice.  “I am a little bit disturbed by what we just did if you weren’t sure.”  I giggled, and he chuckled softly.  “So are you, for the record – real, I mean, though I wasn’t sure for a while either.”

 His humour gave way to anxiety, and I finally lifted my head out of the comfortable spot it rested in to look at his beautiful face.  “Did I disappear?”

 He frowned.  “You…flickered.  Briefly.  Less than a minute, I’d say.  Maker’s hairy arse, Sierra, what happened to you?” His tone sounded so frightened, so desperate, I wanted nothing but to hold him until the fear subsided.

 I thought over my ordeal, wondering where to even start, when a few of the more horrific details I’d apparently been repressing made themselves known again.  “Avanna,” I gasped, tears gathering in my eyes.  “Faren!”  The tears began to overflow, and I buried my face back in his neck.

 “Avanna?” He sounded confused.  “That soldier?”

 “We have to find her.  I swore to myself I’d find her, that I wouldn’t leave her like that.  I won’t let her be a broodmother.  I won’t!”

 “Sierra, Avanna’s safe.  Faren…well, he’s here.  He’s unconscious, but he’s alive.  We need to talk about that, but it’s going to be okay.”

 I couldn’t even respond.  _Avanna, not a Broodmother?  Faren, alive?_   I wriggled, trying to sink further into Alistair, flailing and grabbing at him until he wrapped me in a bone-creaking embrace, holding me close as I finally let loose and wailed, letting go of all the fear, the guilt, the mind-numbing exhaustion and defeat.

 He just held me, allowing me to cling to him and use him as an anchor, my port in the storm.  It took a few minutes for the tempest to abate, and when it did, my tears had mingled with the sweat of our recent exertion to leave me feeling distinctly sticky.  I didn’t care, as long as Alistair held me and didn’t let go.

 Finally cried out, I told him everything.  The fight, Faren’s capture, the awkward deal I made with the Architect to keep Faren alive, our presumed rescue once Avanna reached Soldier’s Peak.  Faren’s bloodletting, our dismay at being fed horse meat – and assuming our rescue was no longer likely.  My hallucinations as I desperately tried to stay awake.  And finally, I told him about the poison, about attempting to kill Faren in cold blood – at his request.  The tears started again, but Alistair just held me – as though I wasn’t the total monster I felt like I was – and kissed the tears away one by one.

 “It’s not your fault,” he kept repeating – which just made me angry, for some reason.

 When I calmed down again, I finally got to hear his side of the story.

 “Conrad had been patrolling and could feel a large group of darkspawn moving, but couldn’t seem to locate them.  He sent us a messenger, and we were all out there, trying to track them down.  Following them.  We realised they must be underground, but couldn’t find a way in.  We spent two days chasing them from above ground when we ran into Loghain and the others from the Peak.  They’d sent us a message, but of course we were out and didn’t get it.  They’d been looking for you once that soldier – your bodyguard? – told them you’d all been attacked.”

 “How did she get away?  They fed us her horse, or at least, I assume so.”

 He shrugged.  “I don’t know the details.  We can ask – she’s here, somewhere.  Anyway, they had found the ambush site, realised your bodies weren’t among the dead, and were following the trail the darkspawn left when they took you.  Prince, of course, picked up your scent – and what I assume were your socks? – right away.  We ended up fighting through dozens of darkspawn – some of them the talking variety – before finding that lair.”

 “Did you kill the Architect?”

 “He was gone when we got there – further into the Deep Roads, we think.  There wasn’t any blood left behind either.  Don’t know how he knew we were coming.”

 “He could communicate with Utha without talking – I’m guessing he’s somehow connected to his sentient darkspawn.  Like the Archdemon with his generals.”

 “Lovely.  Because telepathic communication is something the darkspawn clearly need to have!”  He sighed.  “When we found you, you stole Anders’ mana, and you obviously thought you were hallucinating – so Solona used a sleep spell on you.  Anders tried to heal Faren – he stabilised but didn’t wake – and we took both of you and brought you here.  We considered going to the Peak, but the Vigil was equally close and we have more access to help here.”

 “How long have I been out?”  I didn’t want to think about the frightening state I’d been in when they found me.

 “It took us three days to get you back here on horseback, and it’s been another day since.”

 “Four days!”  I tried to jump up, distraught at how much time we’d lost.  “He could have already made more sentient darkspawn.  Or turned the Mother!”

 Alistair held me, resisting my attempts to get up.  “And we will deal with that, but there are things to deal with first.”  He stroked my hair.  “Relax, Sierra.  We’ll get him.”

 Too agitated to do anything like relaxing, I finally succeeded in pulling away, sitting up beside him.  “I know where they’ll end up, more or less.  We need to go, before the Mother has enough time to birth an army.”  I ran a hand irritably through my now sweaty, greasy hair with a groan.  I climbed to my feet, stretching out stiff muscles.  _No wonder I’m stiff – four days!_   “I didn’t even know sleep spells lasted for four days.”  I started looking around for my armour.

 He flushed slightly.  “They don’t.  She had to put you back under several times when you started to stir.  We wanted to make sure you didn’t wake up disoriented or panicked, lashing out at us or the mages.  So she put one final spell on you a few hours ago, and the Aedan sent all the mages out on patrol for a while.”

 I looked at him despairingly.  “Patrol!  But we need to go.”  When he just looked at me, shocked, I growled.  “Alistair!!”

 He climbed out of bed, approaching me with his hands up in a calming gesture.  “We will, Sierra.  But you’re still recovering, Faren’s still unconscious, and there were injuries during the fight.  We couldn’t leave right away if we wanted to.”  He reached out and put his hands on my shoulders, pulling me to him and kissing my forehead.  I leaned into his warmth instinctively, unable to even identify the feelings coursing through me, never mind deal with them.  “It’s going to be okay,” he asserted.

 I pulled away suddenly, turning my back on him.  “How is it going to be okay?  Dozens of soldiers dead.  The Architect in possession of the blood he needs to do untold harm.  A Broodmother that could be, right this minute, breeding Children to attack us, or Amaranthine.  Faren unconscious.”  I reached for my nightgown, roughly trying to turn it right side in again, ripping it accidentally in my haste.  “I tried to kill my friend!  How is that ever going to be okay?”

 I couldn’t figure out why I was so insanely angry.  Alistair and Aedan couldn’t have known what was happening until I woke, and I hadn’t exactly been in my right mind the last time I’d been awake.  They were right to be cautious and keep the mages away from me, had no reason to be gearing up for a battle.  Alistair hadn’t done anything wrong.

 That didn’t stop me from lashing out.  “Just leave me alone!” I shouted when I felt his hands touch my back.  I didn’t turn to see his reaction.  I stomped into the bathroom, jumping into the tub, scooping up my shower head and proceeding to scrub myself down quickly.  I washed my hair, not even taking the time to condition it fully, and then I was drying myself off, stalking back into our bedroom to get dressed. 

 Alistair sat on the edge of the bed, watching me quietly; I felt awkward for shouting at him, knew I was being patently unfair to the man who’d done nothing but come to my rescue and try to comfort me, but I could feel his gaze like a touch on my skin and it just made me so _angry_.

 When it was obvious, with another quick glance around the room, that my armour wasn’t there – probably being cleaned, I realised, though part of me felt sure it was being denied me on purpose – I pulled the first thing out of my wardrobe that I could find: my old, fake velvet dress from back on Earth.  I yanked it on over the first pair of smalls I could locate, yanked a brush through my hair – finally giving up and tying the whole mess into a hasty pony tail – and left the room without another word.

 Rapping on Aedan’s door didn’t get me anywhere – no one answered – so I went in search of my brother.  I thought he might be with Faren, and headed towards the Wardens’ quarters, assuming that was where they had taken the unconscious dwarf.

 Aedan wasn’t there.  Seeing Faren, pale as death and breathing erratically, made me wish I had looked anywhere else.  He looked awful.  His skin was damp with a sheen of sweat, his usually-impressive musculature almost atrophied already, his complexion slightly grey, his closed eyes sunken.  I didn’t even notice Oghren sitting by his bedside, so riveted by the body of the man I’d tried to kill.

 I gasped and covered my mouth, rushing to Faren’s bedside but falling to my knees before I made it onto the edge of the mattress.  I grasped his unresisting hand, too horrified to be repulsed by its clamminess. 

 “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, my throat tight with emotion – anger, and something else I didn’t care to think about.  “Please wake up?  I’m sorry!”

 I felt a heavy hand rest on my shoulder, and turned instinctively towards it, pressing my forehead against the wrist and trying to stifle a sob.

 “Now don’t go getting all maudlin on me, Toots,” I heard Oghren mutter, in a voice thick with compassion and worry.

 I stuttered a brief, surprised chuckle.  _Oh, Oghren, you always do make me laugh._   “What have they tried?”

 He knew what I meant without further explanation.  “Regular healing potions, and Sparkle-Fingers tried too.  Said he’d lost too much blood, and couldn’t be sure if…uh, I mean when he’d recover.”

 “It’s not just the blood loss.”  I growled.  “He’s been poisoned.  Where is Anders?  And are the Legion still here?”

 It turned out that, while Anders and the other mages were off somewhere, most of the Legion were indeed at the Keep, and so leaving Oghren to watch over Faren, I went to find them.  It was afternoon, and the dwarf I wanted to see was sparring in the ring outside with an enthusiastic Sigrun when I finally located him.

 “Gerrin!”  The dwarf who’d made the poison suicide capsules had died underneath Vigil’s Keep, but his best friend, a rogue far too interested in poisons in general for it to be healthy, had survived, and was knocked to the ground by a triumphant Warden when he became distracted by my shout.

 “Hah!” Sigrun crowed.  She offered the older dwarf, an intensely hairy fellow who resembled a short Grizzly Adams, a hand, and he took it, grumbling about cheating.  Sigrun merely bounced and giggled unrepentantly.

 “Sorry.”  I flushed when he turned his irritated gaze on me.  “Look, can we talk?  I need a favour.”

 Aedan, Zev, Nate, Varel, Sigrun, Trevian, and Alistair ended up joining us when I managed to convince the surly dwarf to sit down and talk to me.  Aedan had wrapped me in a tight hug the moment he saw me, almost refusing to let me go; strangely reticent, I pulled away, trying to ignore the hurt look that briefly flashed across his face.  Zev ostentatiously kissed my hand and said something flirty; I rolled my eyes half-heartedly, not even hearing the usual baseless compliment that rolled off his tongue.  Alistair stood back, studying the book titles on the shelves in the library we’d invaded for our discussion, and while my heart ached at the distance between us – a distance I knew damn well was my fault, and no one else’s – I was also still angry, and so was somewhat relieved that he left me alone.  Everyone else greeted me warmly, and I nodded back quietly, biting my lip.

 It was horrifying to admit to that group what I’d done.  I told them the entire story I’d already explained to Alistair, keeping my tone emotionless and cold as I steeled myself to admit that I’d knowingly poisoned my friend.  I almost wanted someone to shout at me, to accuse me of murder, to vilify me, but it didn’t happen; the more understanding they all were, the angrier it made me.  _No one, not one person, is going to hold Faren’s attempted murderer_ – I stumbled at even mentally using the word in relation to myself – _accountable.  They’re all just going to let me get away with it._   If anything, it just made my dark mood worse

 Promising to find the mages and bring them back to the Vigil, Sigrun, Gerrin, and Zevran left to go talk and see what could be done for Faren.  They seemed hopeful that knowing what poison he’d been given would help, and were encouraged by the fact that he likely hadn’t received a full dose.  Once they were gone, Alistair, Aedan, Nate, and Trevian began planning a campaign against the darkspawn that we assumed would begin breeding.

 “Where did you say this ‘Mother’ will be, again, Sierra?”

 I shook myself out of my inner brooding.  “Um, she has a nest inside some old ruins inside…Drake’s Fall, I think.  Assuming nothing has changed.”

 Nathaniel paled.  “The Dragonbone Wastes?”

 I nodded. 

 Aedan turned back to a map of the area surrounding Amaranthine that Nate had unrolled from a pile of similar parchments in a trunk in the corner.  He pointed at the Dragonbone Wastes in western Amaranthine.  “This was where you told us to stay away from.”

 “I assumed he’d already freed the Mother, and that there would be an army of Children there.  But he didn’t have enough Warden blood, apparently…and you tell me no new types of darkspawn have been spotted around here?”  Aedan shook his head.  “Then we have a chance.  Now, before she breeds, before she can attack the city or the keep – we have to destroy her.”

 “And the Architect, if we have the opportunity,” Aedan added darkly.  “A being that dangerous, that short-sighted, can’t be allowed to live.  And no one gets away with hurting my Wardens or my sister.”

 Trevian objected.  “Are you sure?  If he wants to end all the Blights, stop the darkspawn from attacking people…”

 I got up and stormed out before they could say anything more.  I didn’t want to hear it, didn’t even want to know what they decided.  I was angry – with Aedan, with Alistair, with everyone – and already sick of the debate…and it had only just begun.

 To my relief, no one followed me; I decided to go in search of Avanna.  I found my bodyguard polishing her armour in the barracks, and I gestured for her to relax when she leapt to her feet at my arrival.

 “I’m glad you escaped,” I tried to smile warmly, though the strange look on her face told me I’d failed, “and thank you for bringing the cavalry.  Tell me what happened?”

 She told me that after I sent her away, she rode westwards for several hours, staying off the road to make it harder for the darkspawn to follow her.  “Didn’t matter, though,” she sighed.  “I could hear them behind me, howling and gibbering, you know?”

 I nodded, more than familiar with the eerie noises the darkspawn made.

 “I could tell I wasn’t going to make it.  I was tired, and they were getting closer.  It was also getting darker, and I remember being told they see better in the dark than us.  So I did the only thing I could think of – I sent Sadie one way, smacked her hard to make her panic and thrash, and I went the other.  I got lucky – they followed the horse.  It took me longer to get back to Soldier’s Peak, but I didn’t see any more darkspawn.  I hid at night, walked all day, and finally found one of the patrols.  Seneschal Dryden sent a messenger to Vigil’s Keep, and the rest of the soldiers and Wardens went looking for you.”

 I thanked her, truly relieved that she was safe.  The horse meat had been a bit of over-the-top drama, but I could only be grateful that we hadn’t ended up tripping over her body or having to put a new Broodmother out of its misery.  _I don’t think I could have taken the guilt._

I confirmed with her that she would be travelling with us when we went to the Dragonbone Wastes; she frankly refused to stay put, and I worried she’d follow along anyway if I didn’t bring her.  _I’m not the only one feeling angry; she feels she has something to prove after leaving me to be captured by darkspawn._   I did secure her promise to obey orders from Alistair and Aedan, however.  The last thing we needed was someone getting in the way – or getting tainted – trying to protect me.

 Leaving her, I detoured through the kitchen and liberated a small loaf of bread and a leg from the pheasant the cook had just finished roasting; I wrapped them in a cloth and took them with me out onto the roof of the Vigil.  I curled up on the floor of the battlements, watching the clouds blow by as I ate, trying hard not to think – about anything.  After a while I must have fallen asleep; I barely stirred when Alistair found me, lifting me carefully and carrying me to bed.  When he put me down and crawled up beside me, I curled into him instinctively, pulling the covers over my head and dropping back to sleep still fully dressed.

 I woke some time later from a particularly horrific dream of having to kill Faren’s reanimated, decomposing corpse; he came for me with a sick, single-minded purpose, eyes glowing red with malice as I chopped him to pieces one by one.  I gasped as my eyes flew open, then scrambled out of bed and into the bathroom before I woke Alistair.  Trying to sob quietly, I retched into the toilet until nothing was left, then quickly cleaned myself up.  Too disturbed to go back to bed, I changed into clean clothes, braided my hair, and went into my office to try and bury myself in work.  I wrote a letter to Cailan letting him know about the condition of Soldier’s Peak, and another to Sereda requesting help with finding miners who might want to come work for me.  I requested another set of armour from Paider – and offered him double the coin he normally charged to improve my chances of getting it.  I wrote up a job offer for Felsi, hoping after we destroyed the Mother, I could have Oghren deliver it. 

 I was in the middle of calculating the Peak’s monthly operating costs and trying to plan a budget when I looked up to see Alistair standing in the doorway.  He had bed hair sticking out strangely, and the linen trousers and tunic he wore as pyjamas were rumpled; he was pouting, his bottom lip sticking out and his brow furrowed, trying to hide the look of genuine hurt that I knew I’d caused.  He looked delectable, good enough to eat, but even that wasn’t enough to overcome the wave of anger that hit me when I contemplated dragging him back to bed for something other than sleep.

 “Good morning,” he offered cautiously.

 “Morning,” I agreed softly.  “Sorry.  Couldn’t sleep.”

 He stepped towards me, stopping beside my desk, nodding.  “Nightmares?”  He held his arms in front of him awkwardly as though unsure of himself, and oh, how I wanted to fall into them and let him hold me. 

 “The usual,” I lied, nodding.  “So what’s the plan?”

 He turned away, crossing to the window and peeking out through the shutters.  “Nate has called for a general muster – he’s pulling most of the army from Amaranthine.  They should be ready to march by the day after tomorrow.  It will take a few days to get there.”  He sighed.  “We’re bringing as many people as we can.  The soldiers will hold off any darkspawn, and the Wardens will take down the Mother – and the Architect if we get the opportunity.  But Amaranthine will be safe?”

 I shrugged.  “Obviously, everything I think I know is up in the air.  But I can’t see how she could breed an entire army in a week or two – not that I know how fast Broodmothers can produce a…litter?  And the walls around Amaranthine have been repaired, the secret entrances sealed…I can only assume the city will be fine.”

 He turned to look at me, his face obscured by shadows.  “We’re leaving the Legion here, along with Anders and Sigrun.  Some of the soldiers too, just in case there’s an attack on the Vigil.  I don’t suppose you’d agree to stay?”

 I scowled, my ire rising again.  He sighed, holding his hands in front of himself in a placating manor.  “Okay.  I just…I had to ask.  I don’t like the idea of you near the Architect again, but it’s your call.”  Something in his voice sounded like despair, though I couldn’t see his expression to be sure.  “I’m going to go help get everyone organised.  Do you need anything?”

 I shook my head, and he nodded.  “Sierra?  I’m here if you need me, okay?”

 I said nothing, face flushing as I refused to make eye contact, and he backed out of my office; after a few minutes, I heard the door to our suite close behind him.  _That’s probably the first time we’ve been in the same place and started the day without at least a kiss.  He didn’t even touch me – not that I’d have let him._   My lips trembled as I wiped away an angry tear, trying very hard not to wonder whether I’d just done irreparable damage to my marriage.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early update! What can I say? I was motivated. I got lots of writing done last week, and hopefully this week will go as well :) I can't promise another early update...but I'll try.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who faved/followed/kudo'd or reviewed! Your comments help me stay motivated.
> 
> A million thanks to Kira Tamarion and Melysande for their amazing beta skills. Show them some love, you guys! Their writing is awesome.
> 
> As always, I don't own Dragon Age.
> 
> Some questions from reviews:
> 
> Why am I evil: Yeah, it turns out I'm a sadist. Who knew? Sorry about that ;) 
> 
> Going back to Earth: she's been working for a year on never going back, on keeping herself in Thedas and perfecting her control - she has to really want to go back, and even then she can't predict when it will happen. And a big part of her didn't want to go, wracked with guilt and knowing that Faren would die if she disappeared. 
> 
> How does the mana thing work: the Architect's mana was full when she took it, so there's no regen happening - she's holding all of it. It isn't like his mana is depleted, he just doesn't have access to it. It's why she can also give it back - like she showed Greagoir, or like she did to Avernus. She could use it on shields - but then he would regen, and she'd have to pick it up as he did, and that might be difficult with her being so exhausted and out of it.


	136. Intervention

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Six: *Intervention

 The day passed in a blur; I did some more paperwork, and arranged with Seneschal Varel for my letters to be sent by messenger – to Denerim with some of his, then on to their destinations from there.  I found my armour, and scavenged the armoury for replacement daggers, since mine hadn’t been returned to me after I’d left them in a blood-soaked field.  I visited Faren again, reluctant but dutiful; his condition was unchanged.  I spoke briefly with Anders, who was in the library surrounded by books on healing and poisons – I wouldn’t have guessed such things could be found at the Vigil’s library.  The healer assured me he was making progress, and felt confident that Faren wouldn’t die.  More than that he wouldn’t guarantee, but I was grateful never-the-less.  I excused myself and escaped before he was able to start questioning me.

 I avoided my brother, my husband, Nate, Zevran, the other Wardens, and anyone else who knew me well.  I knew I was hurting people just by acting so strangely, and I couldn’t even explain why.  My head was a complete mystery, even to me – sure, I was upset, but why was I so angry?  I did talk very briefly to Sigrun, who was slightly disappointed at being left behind, but had taken it as her duty to take care of Faren while we were gone.  She was moving his arms and legs several times each day to keep him from stiffening up, and had taken over coaxing the thin gruel Anders recommended down his throat; I imagined some servant was quite relieved, as it was a horrible job.  Too much and he’d choke, too little and he wouldn’t swallow…it took forever, but she seemed determined to personally ensure he remained as strong as possible despite being unconscious.

 She didn’t try to engage me in any…awkward conversation, for which I was grateful.

 I finally found myself back on the ramparts at supper, again eating food I’d pilfered from the kitchen.  From where I sat, I could see only the walls of the keep, a few blank windows, and the sky; it was peaceful, and I was drowsy after only a few minutes.  I’d have fallen asleep there again, except that I was disturbed after a bit by Nathaniel.

 He made small talk to which I barely responded, only grunting or nodding once in a while when it would have been unbearably rude to ignore him.  I wanted him to leave, and hoped he’d get the hint from my reticence, but he blathered on for a while, apparently oblivious.  It occurred to me that it was completely out of character for the nobleman; while not quite as taciturn as, say, Loghain, he was usually far from forthcoming.

 The reason became obvious when he finally cleared his throat awkwardly and then sat beside me, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

 “I know what you’re going through, you know,” he said softly.

 I scowled and remained silent.

 “In fact, I might be the only person here who really gets it.  I’m not sure _you_ know, though.”

 “Oh really?”  I turned to him scornfully.  “You know me so well, do you, that you understand me better than I do?”

 He nodded calmly, unflappable, leaning back to examine the darkening sky.  “When Kallian helped me recover from my torture, and then I made up my mind to…” he stumbled slightly over the words before clearing his throat and starting again, “…kill her…. Even though I was rescued, I was so, so angry.  No longer could I convince myself I was a good person.  I couldn’t live in denial anymore.  I’d been tested, and I’d failed.

 “And you’d think I’d have been angry at my father, who put me in the situation, but I was far angrier at myself, at Kallian…even at Aedan, for not rescuing me a day sooner.  If he’d been just one day sooner, I wouldn’t have been tested.  I could have slept at night, still believing I was a good man, that if it ever came down to it, I wouldn’t hurt someone who’d done nothing wrong.  I was furious!  I wanted someone to blame me, to see the monster inside me and call me out for it.  I’d have gone willingly to Fort Drakon.  But Aedan made excuses for me, you welcomed me…even Kallian.  She thanked me!  Thanked me for almost killing her.  And all of it just made me more outraged.  I picked a fight with one of the soldiers in the barracks, destroyed a sparring dummy, but it wasn’t enough.  None of it touched my anger.”

 He turned to look at me then, reaching out to pat my arm gently.  “I started drinking.  Heavily.  Trying to drown it out, I think.  Do you remember what you said to me?  When you found me in the library, pickled in whisky?”

 I shook my head silently; it felt like a lifetime had passed since that day.  _I wonder if he knows he’d been drugged?  I’m not telling him._

 “You told me that some fates are worse than death.  I know, now, that Kallian was right – staying alive only to be tortured and raped by my father’s men would be the worst thing that could happen.  But I hadn’t been able to put myself in her shoes.  Not until you said that.  You told me that mercy sometimes requires a friend’s help.

 “Put yourself in Faren’s shoes, Sierra.  Say it was you who was tied to a chair, doomed to a short and painful life of being force-fed whatever grisly food the darkspawn could find, providing the blood that would allow the Architect to do Maker-knows-what sort of harm.  Say it was you, watching Leliana slowly lose her mind as she tried, unsuccessfully, to keep you safe – and you knew she could get out, could escape in a heartbeat, if it wasn’t for you.

 “Do you expect me to believe you wouldn’t have jumped at the chance for a quick, painless death that allowed Leliana to get away?  Really?  You don’t think you would have wanted her to kill you so she could escape?”

 He was quiet for a few moments, as I closed my eyes and imagined the scenario as he described it.  It wasn’t hard – even just being in the cell next to Faren, I’d considered my options; he’d had none.  I would have taken the pill, and gratefully.  A few angry tears escaped and trickled down my cheek.

 Nate nodded as he watched the emotions cross my face.  “Now you’re angry – at yourself, for somehow failing Faren; at Faren, for asking you to do the unthinkable; and at anyone else who tries to forgive you for it.  You feel so guilty that it feels like anyone not blaming you doesn’t care about Faren.  Someone should be made to suffer for Faren being sick, right?  And there’s no one else but you to pay the piper.”

 The trickle became a flood as the tears multiplied.  Pissed off at the sign of weakness, I wiped my nose on my sleeve irritably until I felt Nate press a handkerchief into my hand.  “Stop,” I whispered, voice gravelly with emotion.

 His gaze was compassionate but firm.  “Almost.  Just one more thing, I promise.”  He moved his hand to my shoulder, whether for comfort or to keep me from fleeing I wasn’t sure.  “I just have one question.  Why are you punishing Alistair and Aedan for it?”

 My eyes widened as he finally cut to the chase.  I hiccupped in shock, mind racing. 

 “Do you blame them?  They took too long to find you.”

 “No!  Of course not.”

 “They left you alone.  Sent you to Soldier’s Peak without them, so it’s their fault you were captured.”

 “No.  No!”  I sobbed once, hurt and incensed and completely offended that he would imply that anything that happened was anyone’s fault but mine.  “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

 He kept going, relentless.  “Then why?  Why pull away?  Why are you so angry?  What did those monsters do?”

 “Nothing!  They didn’t do anything!  It’s me!”  I was crying so hard I couldn’t see, shouting loud enough the soldiers in the sparring ring below could probably hear me.  “They keep saying it’s not my fault, but it is.  I’m the monster.  **_I_** am!  I don’t deserve their comfort.”  I gasped for air, head spinning, voice tapering off to a hoarse whisper.  “None of them blame me like they should.  They’re all kind words and compassion and comfort, while Faren still lies there unconscious.  I’m the monster.  They shouldn’t love me.  I don’t deserve it.”  I clapped my hands over my mouth, shocked and horrified by what I’d just admitted.  _Is that really why I’ve been such a bitch since I woke up?_   Able to examine the thought consciously, finally, even I knew it was stupid when I thought about it.

 I’d been able to admit that I would have done the same in Faren’s place; I’d never blamed Nate for deciding to kill Kallian before they’d been rescued.  I didn’t blame Zevran for being an assassin, Leli for being a bard…

 Perhaps I could learn to forgive myself for doing as Faren asked. 

 It was a revelation.  All of a sudden my anger made sense.  Though it was unexpectedly, amazingly, almost gone; I still felt guilty, but somehow also better for getting the ridiculous truth out there.

 I was so caught up in my own sudden insight that I didn’t hear the doors open or the footsteps, and before I knew what was happening, I was being lifted into familiar arms, settled into a comfortable lap, sandwiched between my husband, who was holding me like he’d die before letting go, and my brother, who was stroking my hair and pressing kisses to my forehead.

 Both were smart enough not to say anything, almost like they knew that further reassurances – that they loved me, that I hadn’t done anything wrong – were not going to be helpful.  _The only thing that’s going to fix this is time.  I’m not looking forward to explaining it, though._

 I finally looked up to see Zevran standing behind Aedan, one hand on my brother’s shoulder and the other patting Nate on the back.  The dark-haired nobleman stood beside us, smiling empathetically at me, before excusing himself to go back inside.  Zevran reached out and squeezed my hand, rubbed Aedan’s shoulder gently, and then followed the archer, leaving me with Aedan and Alistair.

 We sat together quietly for a while, until the last light of sunset faded.  Finally calm, I reached out and took one of each of their hands into mine.

 “Sorry,” I started, wondering how I was going to explain everything.  “I-“

 “Don’t,” Alistair interrupted.  Aedan nodded.  “We knew – maybe not what, exactly, but we knew something was going on.  I was giving you space to figure it out, and then Nate mentioned he had an idea…”

 “An intervention?”  I looked from one too-innocent expression to the other; they were confused by my Earth terminology but far too understanding of things they shouldn’t have known about, unless...  “Ah.  You were listening.”  It felt like I should have been offended – they’d ambushed me, like some reality television show on cable – but I wasn’t.  I’d clearly needed an intervention, and the fact that they were listening at the door meant I wouldn’t have to explain everything.

 I chuckled tiredly.  “Apparently I’m not terribly good at the whole ‘self-awareness’ thing.”  I leaned my head onto Alistair’s shoulder.  “I don’t even think I said thank you.  So.  Thank you for finding us, for saving me and keeping Faren alive.  And for the intervention here and the understanding.  I promise to try to stop pushing you away.”

 Aedan squeezed my hand, and Alistair kissed my crown softly.  “Welcome back, sis.”  My brother winked.  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find that very clever man of mine and…” He grinned at me.  “…get some rest before we march in the morning.”

 “Rest.  Riiight.”  Alistair teased.  I giggled.

 Aedan stuck out his tongue briefly.  “Be ready at seven bells, love birds.”  He slipped through the door, leaving Alistair and I curled together on the ramparts.

 “I was awful to you,” I whispered to my husband as he rubbed my back.  “I can’t believe…”

 “No.  You were hurting.  I could tell, and I didn’t take it personally.  I’m still not sure I really understand – and if Nate’s right, I’m pretty happy with it staying like that – but I knew you weren’t angry with me.  Not really.  I think we’ve come far enough not to get insecure or run away at the first sign of trouble, don’t you?  I’m just glad Nate and Zev had some idea what to do.  Honestly, the worst for me was feeling helpless.”  He kissed my forehead, and I snuggled into him.

 “So this was Nate’s idea?” 

 “Well, he and Zev.  They both have experiences with being…”

 “Captured?  Tortured?  Yeah.”  I shook my head.  “Not that I was tortured.  I just couldn’t risk going to sleep.”  I nuzzled into Alistair’s neck, pressing kisses to his warm flesh, inhaling the masculine scent that meant I was home.  “I could go to bed now, though.”

 “Tired, Love?”

 I grinned up at him lasciviously.  “Well, I didn’t say that sleeping was what I had in mind…I do believe that a more…intimate apology might be in order.”

 He chuckled, creases at the corner of his eyes as he smiled.  “How could I say no to that?”

 Scrambling to our feet, the two of us held hands, giggling and touching as we raced to our room.  Alistair fumbled the door open, and then I was being lifted, carried through bridal-style by my husband.  I gasped, one arm clinging around his neck; I knew he wouldn’t drop me but it never failed to freak me out a little. 

 He placed me carefully on the bed, reaching down to pull off my shoes; he stripped down to his smalls while I wiggled out of my dress.  I sat up, eager to get at him, reaching to pull his hips closer so I could get my mouth on him as I tugged at his smalls, but he pushed me away gently. 

 “Not tonight,” he whispered, climbing up on the bed next to me, pulling my naked body into his arms, our skin pressed together from shoulders to toes.  “I love you, Sierra.”

 I groaned as he kissed me, overcome with relief and love, desperate to reconnect with him the way we did best.  But his hands stroked me, soothing rather than inflaming, his kiss slow and deep and intimate.  His strong arms held me captive, my tongue the only part of me free to move against him. 

 “Slow,” he murmured, tilting my chin down to kiss my forehead, my eyelids, both cheeks.  “I want to cherish you.”

 And he did, proceeding to lavish my face, neck, and chest with kisses.  Initially impatient, I writhed against him, but eventually relaxed as his patience and stubbornness won out; finally he released my hands, and I stroked them into his hair, holding him to me as he nibbled at my throat.  He shushed me when I gasped as he rolled onto me, his hips between my thighs, pressing me to the bed.  I could just feel the hard length of him against my leg, but he went no further, choosing to return to my lips with a languid kiss.

 “So beautiful,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over my face softly.  He pressed his forehead to mine, our noses touching.  “Look at me, Love.”

 My eyes, which I hadn’t even realised had closed in sheer bliss as he pampered me, flew open, meeting his intense, hazel gaze.  “I love you,” I blurted, and he kissed me again, this time keeping our eyes locked on each other.  It was more intense like that, not as much sexual as hedonistically sensual; I felt like my soul lay bared to his gaze, and as self-conscious as I thought I should feel, I didn’t.  _He_ was allowed see all of me, every hope, every flaw, every embarrassing detail.  _Everything I am is his, and I know he loves me, no matter how insecure I am._

 Finally he took me, shifting his hips until he was buried in my welcoming sheath, his eyes darkening as he fought to hold still, to relish the closeness without any urgency or drive for completion.  He never broke eye contact, his intensity not allowing me to look away even though I felt too exposed, too vulnerable.  But as he finally started to move, the emotional and the physical blended together until I couldn’t tell where I stopped and he started, until both of our souls intertwined and mated together, so hopelessly comingled we would never be able to separate them again – not that I would ever want to try.

 Our climaxes – together, shattering, penetrating – were almost an afterthought.  I was crying, panting, and shuddering all at once as it went on and on, binding and irrevocable.  Finally I fell insensate; Alistair rolled to the side, unbeknownst to me, and we slept.

 *****

 The group forming up to march on the Dragonbone Wastes in the morning was impressive, even compared to the army we’d amassed to fight the Archdemon.  There were almost a dozen Wardens, plus Nathaniel, his troops from the Vigil and Amaranthine, and a large chunk of the Fereldan Army that Cailan had stationed in and around Amaranthine after the battle with the Archdemon.  We were on foot, to my relief; having nowhere near enough horses for the entire army, there was no point in a handful of us riding ahead. 

 The Wardens, plus Avanna, Velanna, and I got to be in the front of the long column leaving through the Vigil’s gates, which was good, because the dust stirred up by an army on the march turned out to be incredible.  We all carried some supplies with us, though there were supply carts that would follow behind and catch up at each stop.

 We waved goodbye to Anders, Sigrun, and the Legion of the Dead, as well as the soldiers being left behind to guard the Vigil, and then we were underway.  Low on sleep after an intense evening making up to Alistair, and still recovering from starvation and lack of sleep in the Architect’s lair, I was initially worried I might not be able to keep up – until I was reminded just how difficult it is to get several hundred people moving in any sort of efficient manner. 

 We may have intended to march at seven, but it took at least an hour longer to get organised than planned, and even once we’d left the column stretched out far behind us; I half suspected that when the front of the column arrived at the Mother’s Nest, those at the back would still be standing in the Vigil’s courtyard. 

 We travelled until it was truly too dark to carry on, trying to make up for lost time; the grumbling when the soldiers were told not to start fires and to eat cold rations was minimal, but we all wished for something more.  Things moved a little faster the next day, and we were rewarded with a hot dinner.

 Alistair and I, Aedan and Zev, and Nate all rated fancy tents, more pavilion than the little canvas sheets we’d used during the Blight; I felt ridiculous, but I was outvoted.  With Alistair sharing a tent with me, I figured Avanna could relax, but the soldier was taking her duty ridiculously seriously, and she slept right outside the tent flap.  I sighed, knowing nothing I could say was going to change it.

 My husband and I hadn’t discussed our intense love-making since we’d left the Vigil; it didn’t seem necessary.  Both of us felt the change between us – more in sync, part of a larger whole – and we were both aware of the increased intimacy with every glance, every touch.  It kept an amused half-smile on both our faces most of the time, earning us grins and teasing from those around us, not that either of us cared particularly.  But it was sort of funny: we’d started finishing each other’s sentences, accidentally speaking in tandem, and when we sparred together, it was like one person was guiding us both.  I was instinctively aware of every movement of his, and from how often I caught him watching me, it was the same for him.

 The fourth day had us entering the Dragonbone Wastes.  The transition was surprisingly abrupt; we climbed a hill of green grass and trees covered in yellow and red fall foliage, only to drop into a valley that was as barren as a desert.  Grass gave way to dirt, then to a dark, dusty sand-like covering over bare rock; the trees became sickly and twisted, devoid of leaves, some of them covered with malignant black fungus.  The air grew warmer, which wasn’t a terrible thing given the fall chill in most of Ferelden, but I imagined summer days were probably searing.  There was no water for miles, which made the carts carrying vats of the precious liquid even more important.

 The slope was rocky, massive boulders jutting into the sky on either side of the path; the path itself became bumpier and more twisted as it switch-backed down into the valley.  The air was somewhat hazy, and the sheer cliffs on either side of us blocked the direct sunlight, so it got darker as we went down, limiting visibility.  And then the dragon bones started to appear, at first off in the distance, but closer and closer to the path the further down we went.  When I strained my eyes looking down the crevasse, I could see some truly enormous rib bones jutting up from the dry, dusty ground at the bottom.

 It took most of an entire day to get the assembled forces down the hill and to a temporary camp at the bottom.  There were no ruins we could see in the area surrounding us, and we avoided the spots with a higher concentration of dragon bones.  The map showed a chasm to the north, and I knew that the Mother’s Nest likely opened out into it.  There were no darkspawn that we could sense, but we included Wardens in the watch rotation along with the sentries designated from among the army – just in case.  And we kept multiple torches burning all night, on the off chance of a dragon attack.

 The night was uneventful; when the inevitable high dragon battle did happen, it was in the middle of the day as we all scouted, looking for ruins; groups of soldiers led by Wardens were scattered among the rocks, and two men had been snatched before anyone knew what was happening.  When the cry went up – along with the fetid stench of dragon breath and the massive wind stirred by flapping wings – soldiers and Wardens scrambled together to mount a coordinated defense against the creature.

 And it was magnificent, a distracted part of my mind noticed as I ran for cover – I knew my daggers wouldn’t be sufficient to aid me in this fight, so I was better off getting out of the way and letting the heavier armoured fighters do their thing.  It was larger than the risen Andraste – older, I assumed – and its scales were a gorgeous multicoloured patina, greens and blues mixed with red and purple.  It had an enormous crest on its head instead of horns, and massive leathery wings that sent the dust flying.

 But it was old; I’d seen two high dragons before, and this one moved much more slowly than either of the others.  It more hopped and glided than flew, and I suspected it would take a lot of time and an enormous effort for the beast to get its massive bulk off the ground – time the fighters weren’t giving it, of course.  It shot lightning instead of flames, to my astonishment, and its first attack killed a group of three soldiers, the electricity cooking them in their armour before anyone could stop it.

 But quickly, Aedan and Alistair – as the two most experienced with fighting dragons – were shouting orders, the soldiers were spreading out to keep the lightning from chaining between them, and the dragon was slowly, systematically cut, bled, and disabled until it fell.  In some ways it was easier than the dragon fights I’d witnessed in the past – more fighters, more swords – but it was also riskier, with less experienced dragon fighters getting in each other’s way.  But eventually the dragon fell.

 Exhausted, we gave up on scouting for the day and the army returned to our previous camp to rest, heal the wounded, and have pyres for the five men lost.  Without Anders – our best healer, left behind because of Faren’s illness – Solona, Alim, and Velanna provided what healing they could, and we had to rely on potions for the rest.  I tried, mostly successfully, not to feel responsible for the injuries and deaths…it didn’t stop a few irritating guilty tears, which I managed to hide from everyone but Alistair.  It helped that while a few soldiers would have to ride carts back to Amaranthine, most would recover.

 Scouting the next day was fruitful, finding several promising ruins to the north; we moved camp to a more central, semi-permanent location, and began the thankless task of finding the Mother’s Nest.  It was something the game had always skipped over; there was only one ruin, one door that was interactable.  In real life, there were dozens of doors, many of which were partially blocked, sealed, or broken and had to be painstakingly opened before we could rule them out.

 There were several skirmishes with darkspawn inside the ruins; I wondered if many of the ruins connected through tunnels and secret entrances, but without days or months to spend, determining that was impractical.  Instead, when a doorway was opened, a group of soldiers led by two Wardens would enter, take a brief look around, and then come back to report.  Most of the entrances led to areas that were clearly too small or too damaged to house an army or a broodmother, but finally we’d managed to narrow the options down to three: three entrances that lead deep into the ruins, occupied by at least some darkspawn, heading toward the chasm.

 The next day, after a rough night filled with darkspawn nightmares for all of the Wardens, we entered the first ruin.  We’d left a large group of soldiers to defend the camp, and another to patrol the other two entrances; Seranni, whose fighting skills were still developing, stayed at camp to warn against any darkspawn attacks.  The rest of the Wardens, plus Velanna, Nate, Avanna, and I led the way inside.

 It was bleak work; the ruins were dark and grim, filled with dust, mummified darkspawn corpses, and living darkspawn.  Each bit of progress required us to leave soldiers behind to guard the rear, and between the fighting and the organisation, it took hours to work our way through.  We did find a Broodmother, the experience of which horrified our newest Wardens and the one recruit; I’d forgotten than Alim, Rolan, and Velanna had never seen one of the abominations, and all three were left shaken.

 Rolan, Alistair, and I worked surprisingly well together dispatching emissaries, though a poorly placed smite by Rolan staggered both Solona and Alim without completely incapacitating them.  Velanna helped them recover with rejuvenating spells after giving the former templar an incredibly dirty look _.  I’ve been avoiding him, not wanting to deal with it, but clearly I need to keep a closer eye on that Chantry zealot if Velanna’s already aware of his bias._

 The three mages learned to coordinate their spells and managed to take down the two ogres we ran across.  While the soldiers and the rest of the Wardens kept the regular darkspawn at bay, Aedan, Zevran, and Wulf slipped into the shadows, making their way through the tentacles and small horde of darkspawn to destroy the Broodmother.  It was a long, difficult fight, but we came away with only minor injuries: a few gashes, some bruises, and the odd acid burn from the Broodmother’s caustic spit – I noticed, rather smugly, that none of the mages offered to heal Rolan’s acid burn.

 We returned to camp after dark, victorious – sort of – but exhausted, and knowing we’d have to start again with a different entrance the next morning.  Fortunately, supper was waiting for us, as was hot water for washing; afterwards we collapsed into our tents gratefully, and slept deeply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another weekly update. I think there will be one more update in a week, and then back to every 2 weeks while I'm having surgery and recovering, unless things go much better than expected!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reviewed, left kudos etc. You guys are the best!
> 
> As always, a million thanks to my fabulous betas, Kira Tamarion and Melysande, for their help. And also to BioWare, without whom I might not be so motivated to write!


	137. A Mother's Instinct

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Seven: A Mother’s Instinct

 

The next day began the same.  The wounded were left at the camp, those who couldn’t walk being cared for by those soldiers who were less hurt – and Seranni, who we left behind again while the remaining uninjured troops accompanied us.  A new ruin, this one even larger than the last, waited.  As before, the Wardens led the way, followed by Nate and the soldiers who would not only aid us, but guard the way back out.

 It was deep inside the Tevinter ruins where we first encountered some of the Children.  Like the game, we first ran across grubs, the infant form of the Mother’s vile offspring.  They looked like human-sized maggots, their skin grey, slimy, and covered in pustules; one of the soldiers, stunned by disbelief, wandered too close and was bitten as the foul creature wiggled towards us on the ground.  Despite being forewarned, everyone was in shock when it suddenly lurched up on spindly, insectile legs, darting towards the disabled, screaming man who was being dragged away by two other soldiers.

 Alistair leapt in front of the vulnerable trio, bashing the disgusting maggot down with his shield, and Aedan drove his sword through it from behind, nearly slicing it in half; black, thick blood gushed out of the wound, releasing a fetid odour that made everyone gag.  It was a bit like a car wreck on the highway, it seemed – it was so disgusting that I couldn’t look away.  I breathed a sigh of relief when someone stepped into my line of sight and I was released from my horrified shock.

 “Right,” Alistair winced, looking at the bitten man, whose breathing had become shallow and rapid as the skin around his wound blackened, “don’t let them bite you.”  He turned and reached out to squeeze my hand, though I could barely feel the pressure through my thick leather and his metal gauntlets; I still appreciated the gesture, squeezing back tightly.

 Solona and Velanna were both kneeling beside the man as someone else poured a healing potion down his throat; the two blonde mages whispered quietly to each other, exchanging sad glances, before Solona shook her head reluctantly at Nate.  The nobleman’s eyes closed briefly, and I wondered if he was uttering a prayer for the obviously dying man.  When he opened them again, they sparked with pure determination; he knelt down, murmured an apology, and drove a dagger straight into the man’s heart.  _One day, that will be me holding the dagger_.  I wanted to cry, but didn’t.

 After securing the body near one of the soldiers guarding the way out, we all sadly continued to delve deeper into what I was becoming more and more certain was the Mother’s nest.  We cleared darkspawn and more Children from side rooms – cautiously, so no one else was bitten – before descending yet another steep set of steps.  The room at the bottom was long and narrow, the only light provided by our torches; the ceiling was ridiculously high, stretching up into the darkness above.  There were multiple closed doors off to each side, and a large set of double doors at the end; we paused to discuss our plan of attack.

 I was standing quietly listening to Aedan, Nate, and Alistair debate the merits of opening one door at a time versus splitting into smaller groups when I felt a familiar, foreboding presence from above and to my right; I didn’t even think before I reached out with my templar skills and started wrestling for the massive pool of mana I could feel accompanying that aura.  I must have cried out, because suddenly Aedan and Nate were staring at me, while Alistair stiffened beside me, looking up in the direction I knew the Architect must be.  I realised quickly that I must have taken him by surprise the last time we’d met, because I was working much harder to get a hold on his magic than the previous time – and I was losing.  Alistair, seeming to sense my difficulty, carefully aimed a smite in the same direction, and the overwhelming sensation of his magic lessened, though I remained unable to retain my grip.

 “It appears you were correct,” came the ominous voice I hoped I’d never hear again.  “My need is unchanged, but this was a mistake.”

 Jerking back in surprise, everyone turned to face the direction the voice was coming from, and I felt Solona quickly cast a spell that sent a small ball of light upwards to illuminate a balcony above us, where the Architect, Utha, and three darkspawn stood looking down on us.  The dimness made the mutant emissary look even more skeletal, dark shadows obscuring much of his face; Solona’s light glinted off his ridiculous mask, making it appear like his eyes were glowing.

 “Now there’s a surprise,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.  “You’re an idiot.”  I made another unsuccessful attempt at seizing the Architect’s mana, and he grunted with the effort of defying me.

 Utha stiffened and actually growled – in my general direction, though she wasn’t looking directly at me; the Architect calmed her with one hand on her shoulder.  I scowled at them both.

 “What do you want?” Aedan called out, pulling their attention away from me as I struggled uselessly with my templar abilities.

 “I wish to correct my mistake.”  The Architect half-bowed to Aedan, and I saw Alistair’s jaw clench.  “I offer my aid in destroying the Mother.  After that, I would like the chance to discuss an alliance that could-“

 “Stop the Blights forever, blah blah.  Yeah, we know.  I don’t think so.” I didn’t think I’d ever heard my brother sound so angry.  “We don’t need any more poorly-thought-out ‘research’ on darkspawn sentience, thanks.”

 “Stopping the Blight ‘at any cost’, is not that the Grey Warden goal?  I too aim to prevent more conflict between my kind and yours.”

 “Right, and we’re supposed to just be okay with that?  Oh, wait…except for the part where you need more blood than every Grey Warden in Thedas has for your rituals?  Or the part where you still want to be able to take women to make into Broodmothers to breed more of your enlightened darkspawn?  Or the minor problem of how you will all survive without preying on people?  You can’t even prevent your supposed disciples from launching an all-out invasion instead of making peaceable contact, what makes you think you could control the darkspawn you free?  Grey Wardens may be pragmatic, but we’re not _all_ stupid.”  Aedan shot a disgusted look at the former dwarf standing to the Architect’s right.

 Utha stiffened again, but just crossed her arms, expression unreadable.  I’d have given anything to be able to ask her what the hell she’d been thinking when she’d thrown her lot in with the Architect…but she could neither hear me, nor respond.  It was pointless.  _So frustrating!_   But then I had a thought.  I turned to Aedan urgently.

 “Tell her…tell her Kell died to allow Duncan and Fiona to escape.  Tell her he died knowing she was a traitor to the Grey Wardens, and that he couldn’t even save Hafter.  And tell her they’d both have had many more years together if the Architect hadn’t advanced their taint.  She supported him because of fear of the Calling – but she wouldn’t have experienced her Calling for years if not for the him.”  I wasn’t sure why it mattered to me, but I wanted Utha to know everything the Architect had done.  _Maybe she’s known all along, but I wouldn’t have put it past him to keep the details from her.  Not that it will make a difference now, but…_

 “Tell her that in the end, even Genevieve and Bregan knew that following the Architect was mad, that it was wrong and a betrayal of all the Order believed.”

 I wanted her to know the truth – _before we have to kill her, at least_.

 Aedan repeated my words, and I watched the ghoul as she listened.  At first she seemed unaffected, shadows hiding her eyes, but as he kept going, stumbling through what I’d told him, she turned her head to stare at the Architect, as if searching for confirmation.  The creature said nothing; what could he say?  _He knows I can contradict him, that I know more about her lover’s final moments than he does._

 When Aedan finished, she continued staring quietly at the Architect for a long moment, head tilted slightly.  He turned to her, appearing to be murmuring something to her quietly – denials, I assumed, or maybe pleas for her to ignore what we’d told her and focus on their goal.  He could obviously understand her despite her inability to speak; we could hear him stop and start like hearing one half of a telephone conversation. 

 Finally, despite him calling after her, she turned on her heel and left him standing there.  Whether she would meet up with him later or leave him completely, I couldn’t say.  He turned back to us, visibly trying to gather himself, shoulders slumped.  I made another attempt to seize his mana, but he repelled me again, finally straightening up and looking down at us imperiously.

 “I cannot approach closely, but I will help you destroy the Mother.”  He gestured with one long skeletal arm.  “I have reactivated some of the Tevinter traps and wards to aid you.  And afterwards, if you want to kill me…you may try.”  With that he disappeared into the darkness, presumably down a hallway behind him.

 I swore, and heard my sentiments echoed behind me by my husband and my brother.  I couldn’t see any way up to that ledge, and without being able to neutralise his mana, chasing after him was a bad idea anyway – but I still wanted to.  I wanted justice for Faren, for myself, for Utha and Kell and Duncan and Fiona… _and I have to admit, I’m not against a little vengeance, either, at this point._

 I turned to Alistair and pressed against him; it wasn’t much comfort given both of our bulky armour, but it was the best I could hope for under the circumstances.  We weren’t given much time, though, when several of the nearby doorways popped open, and darkspawn and Children spilled through.  Everyone responded as professionally as we could expect, blocking doorways to bottleneck the creatures and slaughtering the darkspawn with impunity.  The narrow space made it more difficult to manage the Childer grubs, which were best attacked from behind, but between the mages, Nate’s arrows, and the rest of the fighters, the darkspawn were soon destroyed with only minor injuries.

 We spent a few minutes checking the remaining doors, finding nothing but rubble, before approaching the set of large double doors at the end.  They were locked, though the mechanism was flimsy enough even I could have broken through; Aedan popped it open with a long slender metal lock pick, and then Alistair stepped in front and slammed the door open, his shield held in front like a battering ram.

  _A good thing, too._   I gasped as three arrows thudded against the studded metal, and two more flew over our heads to clatter against the walls behind us.  The room was massive, wider than it was deep, with several other doors along the same wall as the one we’d come through; in front of us were dozens of darkspawn, including hurlocks, Childer grubs, a handful of emissaries, and one heavily armoured ogre, as well as the archers who’d taken shots at us as we entered.  Behind them, on a dais in front of a large opening out to the chasm beyond, was the strangest-looking Broodmother any of us had seen.

 I didn’t have time to stare, however; the archers had reloaded as we pressed forward to make room for those behind us, and after the second set of arrows struck the shields of those in front, I ducked to one side, noticing Zevran moving the opposite direction.  I reached out and seized the mana of three emissaries, feeling Alistair grab a fourth as I ran, streaking away from the soldiers spilling out through the double doors.  I worked my way around the side of the horde of darkspawn, ending up behind a trio of archers who were about to loose again.  I slit the first one’s throat as I heard the shout and clash of Alistair meeting the ogre head on; refusing to stop and look, I took out the next two archers before heading for the last emissary, who was still casting.

 I tackled the creature to the ground, driving my daggers into its gut; I scrambled to my feet as it bled out with a sickening gurgle.  Taking a moment to look around, I saw Alistair hacking at a partially frozen ogre, the other Wardens spread out, attacking Children and darkspawn.  I couldn’t see Zev or Aedan, but I felt one of the emissaries whose mana I held die, and noted that the rest of the archers had also been taken out.  I saw tentacles sticking up overtop of the combat, and realised that the Mother had joined the fight as well.

 I heard a scream and saw a soldier fall; heading to where they’d been over-run, I started systematically backstabbing and disabling hurlocks.  A tingle went through me – reminding me of the feeling of putting my tongue on a nine-volt battery – before a massive wave of energy passed through the group near me.  One of the soldiers screeched in pain, but the darkspawn around me were suddenly immobile, and I easily slit their throats.  Glancing back, I realised the Architect stood on another balcony – really a gallery, like in a theatre – holding up a glowing white crystal and watching me carefully.

  _Bastard tried to use the Tevinter ruins’ defenses to disable me – and failed, likely due to my natural resistance to magic._   I shot him a dirty look, resisting the urge to stick out my tongue, and then went to help the soldier – the one who’d been caught in the spell – back through the doors.  By the time he was safe, most of the darkspawn had been disabled, though there were a few isolated knots of fighting still ongoing.  The Wardens were hacking at the Mother’s tentacles, which blocked the way to where she sat.

 I spent a few precious moments dragging wounded soldiers to safety, knowing my little daggers wouldn’t help against the massive appendages, but when a path to the Mother was finally cleared, I sprinted through with the rest of the Wardens.  I stared in shock at the hideous creature that sat on the dais in front of us, screeching in an unholy voice.

 Her face was almost pure black, and I couldn’t tell whether it was covered in something or if that was just the colour of her skin.  She had long stringy black hair cascading down her shoulders, and the strange colouring of her skin made the milky-whiteness of her eyes even more striking.  Black, talon-like claws protruded from long spindly arms, and insectile appendages stuck out behind her like spider legs.  Like all Broodmothers, she had several sets of droopy, pendulous breasts and a large, slug-like immobile body, but despite that I couldn’t get over how much more human she appeared than the other Broodmothers.  I wondered if that was because of the Architect’s perverse Joining ritual, or if there had been something unusual about her to start.

 And then I felt a massive, malignant mana signature not unlike the Architect’s, and I realised that she was a mage.  I wondered who she’d been before the darkspawn had taken her – an apostate, hiding out the in the Dragonbone Wastes?  A Circle escapee? – and whether her magic was the reason for her differences from other Broodmothers.  I had no doubt it was why the Architect had chosen her; it seemed the magic-wielding darkspawn were more intelligent than the others to begin with, and he’d probably thought that when she was freed from the call of the Old Gods, he’d be able to reason with her.

 I wondered if he’d captured her and made her into a Broodmother specifically for this purpose, or if she’d been trapped down here for years going mad listening to the ‘music’ before he’d cut her off from it.  Neither option was pretty, and I could see either seriously damaging the mental health of the poor woman going through it.

 I reached out instinctively and seized her mana as she shrieked at Aedan, accusing him of working for the ‘Father’; when she felt her mana being depleted, she tried to cast something, cutting her diatribe off with a scream that she clearly expected to send those nearest to her reeling – but it didn’t work.  Startled by the ineffectiveness of her shout, she was taken completely by surprise when the Wardens around her began attacking.

 Several of us shortly had to turn and defend against a swarm of Children; after a minute of fighting, two of her thrashing tentacles had been severed, and she was bleeding from a number of small wounds and a large gash created by Oghren’s axe.  In response to her cries of pain, a bunch of grubs had streamed out from somewhere behind her.  Unable to see me, the mutant darkspawn made easy targets, and I killed several as they tried to get close enough to bite the other fighters.

 While we were distracted, the Mother grabbed Conrad with a flailing tentacle; he screamed in pain, and I quickly shielded him in an attempt to limit the damage she would cause.  Rolan and Wulf, the closest two Wardens, quickly began hacking at the base of the tentacle, and in response the Mother flung Conrad away.  I sighed with relief as some unseen forced slowed the warrior’s descent, and shot a grateful smile at Alim as the wounded but clearly still living Warden landed softly and was pulled out of the combat by some soldiers.

 Once the Children had been slain, we turned back to the Mother.  I almost felt sorry for her as tears streamed down her face when she looked at the corpses of her ‘babies’.  I saw – without feeling the mana behind it – a blast of fire hit the Broodmother in the chest, and turned in confusion only to see the Architect holding another glowing crystal up on the balcony behind us.  _At least he didn’t try to hit me this time!_

 Another few of the Mother’s tentacles were severed in the fighting, and it became clear she was flagging, her attempts at defense becoming less coordinated and sluggish.  I heard a shout, and turned to see a berserking red-haired dwarf running towards the Mother at full tilt.  In what must have been a practiced move, Alistair knelt and braced his shield as Oghren barrelled towards him; Alistair shoved and Oghren leaped, in a crazy stunt like something out of a superhero movie, and a flying dwarf buried his axe in the Mother’s neck.  He dropped to his feet and rolled away with surprising agility.  She screamed one last time, her arms flailing at the weapon embedded in her flesh, a torrent of black blood flowing down her front…and then she slumped over, finally going still.

 A cheer went up from the soldiers behind us, who had apparently been attacked by another wave of grubs at some point, but I heard Nathaniel shouting and turned to see him loosing arrow after arrow off to the side in a seemingly random direction.  When I looked, I saw a handful of darkspawn – hurlocks and genlocks, wearing good quality armour that indicated they were likely the sentient type – racing out of a side tunnel I hadn’t noticed before.  The one Nathaniel hit went down like a sack of potatoes, two arrows sticking out from his back and one in his leg, but the others disappeared into the darkness as the wall slid into place behind them, barring us from chasing after them.

 I ran to where the tunnel entrance had been, but could see no sign of the secret passage.  Turning to shout back to Aedan and Zevran – the two most likely to locate a hidden mechanism, I assumed – I saw my brother staring up to the balcony, a disgusted look on his face.  Following his gaze, I could see that it was deserted; the Architect had also escaped.  _Again._

 ******

 Despite everyone’s best efforts, it took the better part of an hour before Zevran found the trigger to opening the secret tunnel; it led to another part of the ruin, but the darkspawn were long gone.  Scouts and Wardens were sent through the ruins to look for them and the Architect, but nothing was found.  The darkspawn corpses and the Mother were incinerated by the mages, Conrad healed as much as possible with potions and the limited abilities of Solona and Alim, the wounded soldiers stabilized and transported back to camp, and the rest of the ruin explored.  There were a few lingering darkspawn, but with no over-riding intelligence to guide them, they were easily destroyed.  Even the one remaining Broodmother, found behind the third door our scouts had identified the day before, was killed relatively easily, as she had no supporting darkspawn to protect her.  For the most part, the Dragonbone Wastes seemed to have been abandoned by the darkspawn.

 After one night of rest, Nathaniel, Alistair, and Aedan organised the army, the wounded, and the rest of the Wardens to pack up camp and begin the arduous process of returning to Amaranthine.  The carts that had been full of food now carried injured soldiers, and with no rush, Aedan decided to allow the wagons to move out first with the army, while the Wardens would follow behind a bit later.  They left us with one wagon for our things and a small group of soldiers to help out.  We knew we could move much faster with our small numbers and Grey Warden stamina, so we’d catch up even with a bit of a delay. 

 Zevran and Aedan spent some time finding all the secret tunnels in the ruins, looking for signs of the Architect, to no avail; most of the others took the time to rest and recuperate after such a grueling fight.

 I spent my time in the ruin, trying to understand the crystals the Architect had used – they had stopped glowing, appearing to be just plain rocks when I found the place in the gallery he’d abandoned them – and staring thoughtfully out into the chasm, which never saw direct sunlight even in the middle of the day.

 I was standing out on a peninsula of land built out over the chasm behind where the Mother had sat when Alistair and Aedan found me.

 “We’re ready to go, love,” Alistair murmured, wrapping his arms around me from behind.  “Are you alright?”

 I leaned back into his embrace with a sigh.  “Fine.  Just worried about the darkspawn that got away, and the Architect, of course.”

 “We’ll get him,” Alistair promised.

 “Eventually,” I agreed.  “But what will he do in the meantime?”  I yanked on my tangled hair in frustration.

 With nothing he could say to that, he just quietly held me until Aedan cleared his throat.

 “So, is now a good time to ask…what _is_ that?” Aedan asked.

 I turned to look where he was pointing with a small smile.  It was a large structure, really, but so dwarfed by the size of the ruins around us that it didn’t look out of place.  There was a dais, made out of some sort of black, malignant-appearing stone, with steps of the same stone leading up.  And at the top, flanked by statues made unidentifiable by time, was a smaller flat, grey metallic-looking panel that should have reflected our images back to us, but didn’t.

 “An eluvian.”  I grinned.  “Anyone seen Conrad?  I have an idea.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is following this, and especially to those who've reviewed! I can never tell you how much I appreciate your encouragement.
> 
> The next update will be in 2 weeks - right before my surgery. After that...it depends, obviously.


	138. Fires that Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the NSFW, descriptive sex version of this chapter. If you prefer not to read the steamy bits, check out the edited version on my fanfiction dot net profile!

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Eight: * Fires that Burn

 

 The trip back to Amaranthine was uneventful; the group of us, including the covered cart with our precious cargo, caught up to the army on the second day, and then proceeded to leave them to head slowly back to Amaranthine as we continued at a faster pace back to the Vigil.  Nathaniel was going to meet with his sister in the city, and then join us back at the Vigil a day or so later.

 The plan was for the army to stay around Amaranthine for a couple of months in case the escaped sentient darkspawn caused problems in the area, before they headed back to Denerim.  The Wardens, too, would stay until we could confirm that the ‘Thaw’ was progressing normally – and until we caught both the Architect and the sentient darkspawn, if possible.  That also allowed enough time for Soldier’s Peak to finish the renovations. 

 On the last day of our trip, I was reflecting on just how much things had changed in Thedas because of my knowledge.  And while I was generally happy with the outcomes – the Mother, dead before she could build an army to destroy Amaranthine or the Vigil; the Architect, if not dead, at least limited in how many darkspawn he could turn, thanks to a lack of Grey Warden blood; the Archdemon dead without destroying Denerim; Cailan alive and on his throne, finally being the King Ferelden needed – I was also anxious.  The Architect was in the wind.  Justice would never merge with Anders – but what did that mean for Kirkwall?  Leliana would not become the Divine’s Left Hand – and the future Divine was currently the Grand Cleric in Ferelden.  What would all of the changes mean?  _Will I come to regret some of them, if the future doesn’t work out as well as I hope?_

 When we approached the Vigil late in the afternoon after four long days of travel, we discovered there were more changes than even I had predicted.  The first clues that something had happened while we were gone were the plumes of smoke visible from the road.  We had been sauntering along, knowing we’d make it well in time for supper, but when it became clear that something was burning, as a group we turned and sprinted the last mile until we came within sight of the walls.

 I’ll never forget the image of Anders standing on the walkway above the walls, a veritable torrent of fire roaring from his fingertips as he roasted a handful of darkspawn that had been clawing at the gates.  There were no more live ‘spawn visible, but piles of still-smoking ashes scattered around the perimeter made it clear this hadn’t been the first group they’d repelled.  I counted six recent fires, each with enough ash to account for probably a dozen corpses, if they’d been piled properly before being burned.  _It’s sad that I’ve seen enough piles of burning darkspawn to know that._

 The mage greeted us with a cheerful enough shout that my anxiety was immediately abated; if the ‘spawn had breached the walls, if people had died or Faren worsened in our absence, it would have been obvious from his tone.  “Aren’t you glad I had Jowan teach me that fire spell?”  I chuckled, remembering more than a few burns and missing eyebrows travelling between Orzammar and Redcliffe.  The gates swung open when we got close, to see the combined forces we’d left at the Vigil assembled and waiting in the courtyard, though there were fewer soldiers present than I would have expected.

 Anders jogged down the stairs to join us as a group of soldiers with shovels headed out the gates.  They had the practiced look of people who’d done this before, and indeed they began shoveling ash away from the gates with little fuss.  The mage didn’t stop or even say hi before grabbing Solona, lifting the petite blonde off her feet and planting a fervent kiss directly on her lips.  I snickered and leaned into Alistair’s side, watching with amusement as Aedan fidgeted, clearly impatient for a report but unwilling to step into the middle of the reunion.

 Finally, laughing, I broke up the increasingly passionate demonstration.  “Alright, alright, get a room already!  After you tell us what in the Void is going on around here!”

 Slinging an arm around Solona’s shoulders and gesturing for us to follow him, Anders led us through the gates.  “Three days ago the attacks started.  At first I thought it was just random – small groups of darkspawn, maybe this Thaw we’d been warned about?  But it was too persistent, and with each attack, the numbers have increased.”

 Sigrun, weaving between groups of soldiers in the courtyard, popped up in front of us with a weary half-smile.  She nodded her head in greeting, then joined in Anders’ report.  “They got smarter, too.  They’d coordinate attacks on opposite sides of the Keep to see if we could handle two groups at once, and they’d try a different area each time – like they were looking for weaknesses.”  The usually perky dwarf looked troubled.  “I didn’t know darkspawn did that.  The attacks weren’t hard to repel, but Anders and I have been taking turns staying awake so we’d have warning when the attacks were coming.”

 Those of us who’d just returned from the Dragonbone Wastes exchanged anxious glances.  Finally Aedan asked something that had been on my mind since the gates had swung open: “Where are the rest of the soldiers we left behind?  And the Legion?”

 Anders’ drawn-out sigh was the next sign that something else unexpected had happened.  “We got messages from Amaranthine that they’d been attacked as well.  The gates were holding, but some of the local farm people had been trapped outside, and the guards were hard-pressed to keep the city safe.  We made the decision – with Varel – to send most of the soldiers back to reinforce the city.  The last messengers this morning reported a few uncoordinated attacks, but the city is fine so far.”

 “And Trevian decided to take the Legion and see if they could find where the darkspawn were coming from.”  Sigrun frowned.  “They left here two days ago.  I was sort of hoping you’d have run across them on your way back.”

 I shook my head; we’d certainly seen no sign of dwarves on our travels. 

 “We’ll find them, Sigrun.”  Alistair patted her shoulder reassuringly, and I smiled gratefully at him.

 “How’s Faren?”  I was almost afraid to ask.  I’d confronted my feelings about what had happened before we’d left, but knowing that my guilt was irrational didn’t stop the sick feeling in my stomach when I thought of my friend lying unconscious in his room upstairs.

 “No change,” Anders rushed to interrupt Sigrun, who’d opened her mouth to reply.  The interaction was odd, and for the first time I felt a strange tension there I hadn’t expected.  “I haven’t exactly had a lot of time to research a cure, and Gerrin left with the rest of the Legion.”

 “At least he isn’t worse.”  I shook my head sadly, and felt my brother pat my shoulder softly.

 “There’s something else you should know.”  Anders’ tone made my shoulders slump.  _What now?  What else could possibly happen?_   We all waited for a moment, looking at him expectantly, while he turned to glance to the side.  “I couldn’t wait; if I’d waited until you got back to make the decision, it would have been too late.”

 He gestured, and an unfamiliar elf approached wearing somewhat tattered clothing.  I wondered if he was one of the servants, but Nate’s staff were all well-dressed, and I was quite sure I’d never seen him before.  I wasn’t about to make the same mistake I’d made with the Weisshaupt Warden by assuming anything, so I just looked at him blankly.  He didn’t stand out in any way, with unkempt, shoulder-length brown hair, ruddy skin that had seen more than a few sunny days, a nose too large to be traditionally attractive, and a mouth slightly too wide.  His expression seemed to denote irritation, at best, and the lines around his face made me think the expression was rather permanent.

 Anders waved his hand in the elf’s direction.  “This is Vander.  The soldiers who went to Amaranthine sent him back with a patrol.”  The mage stared at us expectantly; I looked from him, to Vander, to Aedan and Alistair…who were looking at the elf with surprise.  _Clearly I’m the only one not getting it._

 And then it occurred to me that I could not only see that sour facial expression – I could feel it.  _He’s a Warden!  What the hell?_

 “Explain?” Aedan demanded, shifting his gaze between the elf and the mage.

 “He w-“ Anders began.

 Vander interrupted.  “I think I can speak for myself.”  Anders winced.  “I was tainted, and this shem offered me the Joining.  I survived.”  He scowled.  “Just so you know, shemlen, just because you are the Warden-Commanders, doesn’t mean I trust you.  I didn’t have a choice about Joining, but I won’t be treated like a slave.”

 I stared at the elf, open-mouthed; Anders’ strained smirk and Sigrun’s grunt of irritation told me this wasn’t the first such conversation he’d had.  _Oh great, he’s going to be the resentful kind.  Had to know we’d get one eventually._

 To my surprise, both Seranni and Zevran stepped forward from where they had been listening behind us.  Zevran’s back was stiff, his expression artfully blank – I could tell he was feeling quite defensive. 

 Seranni, on the other hand, smiled warmly.  “I think you’ll be surprised,” she tried to reassure him.  “There are several of us elves that are Wardens, and we’re all treated like equals.”

 He sneered down at the blonde.  “Us?  Several of us?  Since when do the Dalish see those of us from Alienages as equals?  I’m just a flat-ear, isn’t that right?  Your reassurances mean nothing more to me than those of this shem.”  How he was able to maintain his ire in the face of Seranni’s pout, her eyes filling with tears as she turned away, I’ll never know. 

 Zevran reached out, clamping a hand around the Vander’s upper arm, turning to gesture to Wulf, who nodded and grabbed the elf’s other arm.  “Please excuse us, Commanders, cara mia; I believe I feel the need to show our new brother around the Vigil.”  Aedan nodded, stunned; I almost giggled at the look of outrage Vander shot him.  “Perhaps we shall start with the ramparts, yes?”

 We all watched in shocked silence as the two elves dragged the newest Warden away; I could only hope Zevran didn’t mean to throw him off the ramparts, if he kept up his behaviour.  Aedan dismissed the rest of our group to go unpack and clean up, with a pointed look thrown at Conrad, who nodded and headed back to the cart; Aedan, Alistair and I stayed with Anders.  We turned to look at the mage as everyone scattered.  His cheeks were pink as he stood ruefully pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

 “I know, I know.  He was too sick to be so…feisty, when I offered him the Joining.  If I’d known…”

 “What in the Void, Anders?”  Aedan sounded more tired than outraged.  I sympathised.

 Anders sighed again.  “From what the patrol told me, a bunch of farm workers got trapped outside the city when the darkspawn attacked.  The guards wouldn’t risk opening the gates with ‘spawn right outside.  Everyone fled into one of those abandoned houses outside the gates, but the darkspawn followed them.  Vander picked up a sword from one of the fallen hurlocks, and defended the whole group of them until the army arrived.  He was tainted in the fighting.”

 The mage gestured, and we followed him slowly inside.  “By the time he reached here, he was delirious.  I couldn’t risk waiting, and I couldn’t stand the thought of just letting him die after everything he’d done.  He saved a handful of people from certain death – and two women from being taken as Broodmothers.  What should I have done?” 

 Anders led us towards the hallway that held our quarters, weaving through groups of bustling servants and soldiers.  “It wasn’t until he woke up that I realised how much he hates humans.  He’s been a total complainer ever since.  I actually thought Trevian might kill him at one point – apparently he thought that the dwarves would be more sympathetic, or something.  I think it’s half the reason the Legion left.”

 “Any idea what his story is?”  I was curious.  After meeting Dariel, I was more than aware that the life of an elf in the Alienage – especially in Amaranthine – wasn’t a very happy one.  I wondered what had happened to make him so bitter.

 Anders shook his head.  “Let’s hope Zevran finds out _before_ he pushes him off the roof.”

 I chuckled, and the smirks on my brother’s and husband’s faces told me we’d all had the same thought.  I felt sorry for Vander for all of a second, before I remembered that Zev and Wulf had been fighting and travelling as hard as the rest of us had, and thanks to our newest ‘brother’, they weren’t able to relax and clean up like everyone else.  _I’ll probably have more sympathy later, once I learn his story, big softie that I am._

 Finally arriving at our rooms, I bid goodnight to Anders and my brother, then dropped my pack on the floor inside the door of the suite I shared with Alistair.  “Love?”  I bit my lip, pondering how to approach my husband with what I wanted to do next.

 He smiled at me and leaned in to kiss my forehead.  “I know.  I’ll go get food and then run us a bath; you go see Faren.”

  _I should have known_.  “Thank you.”  I cupped his cheek, grateful again for having such an understanding, incredible man in my life.  “I’ll join you in the bath as soon as I can.”

 “I’ll be waiting.”  He winked at me, leaning in to whisper huskily, “Don’t take too long.”

 I grinned at him and swatted his behind playfully; he would barely have felt it, given his armour, but he squeaked adorably and I giggled all the way down the hallway to the Wardens’ quarters.

 I found Sigrun in Faren’s room, slowly dripping water into the dwarf’s open mouth and massaging his throat so he would swallow; I sat down beside her with a sigh, watching the former Legionnaire work.  He’d actually managed to at least maintain his weight, if not gain back what he’d lost while being held by the Architect, so it was clear she’d been doing a really good job.

 Sigrun smiled at me as I sat down.  “No change, obviously.”  She put aside the skin she’d been pouring water out of and turned to look at me.  “How are you feeling?”

 I considered.  “Mostly fine.  I don’t think I’ll ever not feel guilty for this, but I’m starting to accept it wasn’t totally my fault.  I’m mostly angry the Architect got away again,” I complained.

 “What happened?”

 I told her about our mission – the two Broodmothers we’d slain, as well as the Mother and her Children.  “But there’s still a bunch of sentient darkspawn out there somewhere – presumably they’re responsible for the attacks here and the city – and the Architect.  I don’t even know where to start with dealing with all that.”

 She patted my hand.  “I trust you – and the Commanders.  You‘ll figure it out.”  She looked down at Faren’s sleeping face, his beard scraggly and unkempt, his hair getting long and unruly; her expression was wistful, a strange mix of longing and affection that surprised me given how short their acquaintance had been.  “You’re lucky, you know.  Not just for escaping, but for having people who will always come for you.”

 I nodded, wondering where she was going with the conversation.  “I am very lucky.”

 She looked at me again with an earnest, intense expression.  “I doubt you even know how much.  You should have seen Commander Alistair, when he found out you’d been taken.  I’ve never seen a man so…distraught.  It was like watching him burn from within.  He didn’t sleep, barely ate; just kept driving us to dig deeper, keep going, push ourselves to find you.  It was like he was possessed.  And when we found you…”  She trailed off, staring off to the side, eyes blank as she remembered.  “He wouldn’t let anyone else near you.  We offered to help take care of you, clean you up and help with things, but he refused.  He was so focused, so intent…he carried you the whole way, rode with you in his arms, bathed you and dressed you.”

 I blushed, thinking about the things he would have had to deal with while I was out.  There would have been bodily functions no woman ever wanted her husband to have to help with…I grimaced.

 Sigrun interrupted my uncomfortable musings.  “He loves you so much.  I truly think it would have killed him if anything had happened to you.  Well,” she amended, “anything permanent.  Obviously _something_ happened.  I never believed in true love, not really, until I saw him like that.  He _burned._ ”  She reached over to run a hand through Faren’s hair distractedly, giving me a direct look.  “I hope you don’t take him, take that sort of love, for granted.”

 Her point made, I flushed again, pleased by her obvious respect for my husband and her protectiveness, but also somewhat defensive at the implication that I didn’t appreciate him enough.

 “Never.”  I decided that being honest, reassuring her, was my best course of action.  “I know every minute of every day how fortunate I am.  I try every day to be worthy of him.”  I hoped she could sense my sincerity.

 She searched my face for a moment, then finally nodded, looking down at Faren and picking up the skin again to coax some more water into him.  “Good.  It gives some of us hope for our own futures.”  She smiled ruefully then, and it felt like her attitude changed, somehow – I felt less defensive, without knowing why.  “You don’t know how much some of us wish we had someone who looked at us like that.”  She stroked the dwarf’s cheek softly as she worked, in a gesture that was sweet but somehow made me a bit uncomfortable at the same time.

 I shook my head, realising how tired I was, and how much I wanted to get back to my devoted husband.  I didn’t feel up to tackling whatever was going on with Sigrun.  _Maybe tomorrow._   The former Legionnaire had dark circles under her eyes, her complexion more pale than normal as well.  “Good night, Sigrun.  Make sure you get some rest, okay?”

 She muttered something that sounded like agreement, and I left her there to head back to my room.  I slipped inside, noticing a platter of food on the little desk in the nook; I shucked out of my armour, leaving it in a pile by the door for cleaning, and headed into the bathroom where I assumed my husband would be waiting for me.

 And I was right, sort of; I found the enormous bathtub half-full of warm water, the scent of one of the expensive soaps Leliana always bought us in the air, and Alistair naked, in the bath, fast asleep.  He didn’t stir as I entered the bathroom in my arming clothes, and I spent a few moments just gazing at my husband, appreciating his relaxed face, chiselled jaw with just a hint of stubble; his bronze skin, damp and shiny from the bath, dotted with scars from various battles; his thick biceps and broad shoulders, slender waist and well-defined six pack; the dusting of reddish blond hair that started with a patch on his chest, trailed down his belly like a treasure map, and disappeared below the surface of the water.

 I tried to imagine him as Sigrun had described, my sweet, funny, silly husband caring for me when I was unconscious, burning for me…and suddenly I couldn’t wait any longer.  I needed to touch him, to love him in return, to show him how much I appreciated him.  I quickly peeled myself out of my arming clothes, tossing them indiscriminately on the floor; Alistair finally stirred, one eye opening with a lazy smile as he watched me strip and cross the floor to kneel beside the tub.

 I kissed him before he could say anything, sealing my lips to his with an intensity that left me feeling almost breathless.  He had opened his mouth – to tease me, knowing him, or maybe just in surprise – and I took advantage of his shock, sweeping my tongue into his mouth aggressively. Kissing Alistair was always astonishing, his taste so sweet and addictive, his lips so soft and pliable yet somehow demanding, his tongue so gentle and playful, and this was no exception.  I gripped the edge of the tub with one hand for balance, and carded my fingers into his damp hair with the other, holding him to me desperately.

 I don’t know how long I knelt there; it could have been a minute or an hour, as I stroked his tongue with mine, took in his intoxicating taste and scent and feel.  He tried to reach for me, but instead I finally pulled back, touching my finger to his lips to stop him from asking questions, and climbing over the edge of the tub.  I shuddered as the warm water enveloped me.  Straddling my husband’s thighs, I kissed him again, both hands now buried in his hair as I devoured him hungrily. 

 Without breaking the kiss I finally reached underneath him, pulling the plug and allowing the water to start draining out of the tub.  I felt Alistair twitch in surprise, but I bit his lip playfully and then stroked his tongue with mine again, distracting him; his hands came up to grip my hips as he groaned helplessly under the onslaught.  As the water continued to drain, I continued my seduction, pulling away from his lips only to tilt his head and take an earlobe into my mouth, sucking softly as I stroked the helix with my fingers. 

 “Sierra?” He moaned my name in a confused, husky voice, and I felt a flash of heat travel down my spine to settle in my core deliciously.  “What...”

 “Shh,” I admonished him, biting his earlobe playfully.  “Relax.  I’ve got you.”

 I kissed my way down from there, nibbling and sucking on the tight cord of muscle in his neck, using his gasps and twitches to lavish attention on the sensitive spots with my lips, teeth, and tongue.  By the time I reached his collar bone, the water in the tub was only a few inches deep, hiding nothing, and I pushed the plug back into the drain as I started nipping my way along his clavicle.  I stroked his shoulders, his biceps, and his chest as I went, relishing the feel of his damp skin and powerful muscles under my fingertips.

 His head fell back against the rim of the tub when I descended further, kissing my way down his chest to reach one tiny, pebbled nipple; he gasped as I suckled it, teasing the tip with flicks of my tongue.  I switched to the opposite side, getting the same response, before continuing my descent.  I swirled my fingers through his little bush of chest hair, following the trail down to his navel, then repeated the action with my lips.  I dipped my tongue into the indent of his belly button, and he twitched, a strangled noise that was half giggle and half moan encouraging me to do it again.

 I could feel his erection pressing against me, and took the opportunity to capture it between my breasts as I followed his ‘happy trail’ south.  A string of expletives issuing forth made me smirk, and, wet from the bath, I pressed my breasts together to give him a bit of pressure as he struggled not to thrust up into my cleavage.  _This would have been fun with my bigger, Earth boobs – not that he’s complaining._   I giggled as he panted and twitched underneath me.

 Enjoying my teasing, I sat back to appreciate the sight laid out before me.  My gorgeous husband, reclining in the tub, head thrown back while breath panted through his parted lips, eyes closed in bliss, his skin shiny with sweat and bathwater, his incredible body on display and his erection straining towards me.  I spared a brief moment for a prayer of thanks – to whom, I couldn’t say, and it didn’t matter – before continuing my mission to watch him fall apart.

 I finally approached his engorged length, pressing fervent kisses to the purple head, gathering a bead of fluid that escaped on my tongue as he stuttered his own prayer to the Maker; taking pity on him, I finally engulfed him in my mouth, bracing my hands on his hips as he bucked involuntarily under me.  Water splashed around us and I sputtered for a moment as he murmured frantic apologies; with a smirk and a giggle, I returned to my efforts, bobbing slowly on his length, swirling my tongue around the tip each time I pulled up.  I kept my pace slow, tantalizing and inflaming him until he was trembling with the effort to hold still.

 His moan of disappointment as I released him and sat up quickly morphed into one of relief as I shuffled forward and sank my dripping core down onto his length in one quick move.  His hands returned to my hips as I rode him, not teasing anymore, just taking him hard and fast as he gripped me desperately.  He tried to stop me, to slow things down, but I grabbed his hands, lacing our fingers together and leaning forward to kiss away his objections.  I slammed down onto him again and again, feeling him unravel under me, until he shuddered and cried out, letting go of my hands to wrap his arms around me as he emptied himself inside me.

 I stroked his hair, pressing kisses to his forehead and cheeks as he slowly returned to himself, his softening erection still inside me.  Finally he collapsed back, holding me against his chest as he caught his breath.

 “What brought that on?  Not that I’m complaining,” he chuckled.  “I just want to know so I can do whatever it was again sometime.”

 I smiled, though I knew he couldn’t see it with my head under his chin.  “Nothing in specific.  I just wanted to.”

 “Well feel free, any time,” he teased.  “Really, my schedule is wide open.”

 I sat up, giggling, only to let out a strangled groan when my nipple grazed across his wiry chest hair. 

 He was immediately solicitous.  “Love?  Oh, you didn’t…you’re still unsatisfied.”  His thumb grazed my other nipple, and I twitched away, still sensitive.  “I could-“

 “I’m fine,” I protested, taking his hand in mine.  “Really.  I wanted to do this for you.”

 “And that means you don’t get any relief?  Why?  Sierra...”

 “Just me appreciating you.  I love you, so much.”  I cupped his cheek, smiling softly at him, blinking away the happy tears threatening to fall.  “I’m the luckiest girl in Thedas.  I just wanted you to know that I know that.  I wanted you to know that I don’t take you for granted, that I never will.”

 “So…this was some sort of…reward?”  He cocked one eyebrow up, a mischievous smile on his handsome face.

 I chuckled.  “Sort of, I suppose.”

 He tried to pout, the effect ruined by the satisfied grin that still quirked up the corners of his lips.  “Well, if it’s my reward…don’t I get some say in choosing it?”

 I scowled at him halfheartedly.  “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?  And here I thought I had a standing invitation to repeat the experience.”

 “Oh, it was fantastic,” he assured me pleadingly, kissing my chin softly, “I just have another reward in mind also.”

 I could feel his erection, which had softened and had been threatening to slip out of me, twitch slightly and lengthen inside me, and I rolled my eyes in amusement.  _Boys!_   “Oh?  Do tell.”

 “Well, I don’t think it will come as a surprise to you, but seeing you receiving pleasure is one of the things I like best.”  His voice had dropped into that husky range that always made me shiver, and his purposeful emphasis on the word pleasure sent a bolt of warmth directly to my core.  His fingers were making circles on my hips, distracting me, and his length had continued to grow, spreading me and ratcheting up my desire even more.

 “Yes?” I responded vaguely, struggling to focus on his words instead of the heat inside me that had begun building when I first saw him in the tub and hadn’t yet been satisfied.  “What are you trying to say?”

 He pulled me closer to whisper in my ear, his breath caressing my skin as my nipples came into contact with his wiry patch of chest hair again.  “I want to watch,” he murmured.  “Use your hands, your fingers, use me to take your pleasure.”  I could feel him twitch inside me again, demonstrating his interest in what he was saying.  “Show me, Sierra.  Come for me, sweetheart.”

 I gasped, his dirty talk filling my head with lascivious images, the heat in my core boiling over into an inferno.  Almost involuntarily I squeezed down on his length, the need for friction becoming overwhelming.  “You’re such a pervert,” I murmured, chuckling as he nodded, agreeing happily with my assessment.  “I’ve created a monster.”

 I had to admit, though, that as self-conscious as I was, as silly as I felt, there was an appeal to his idea.  The thought of him watching me as I rode him, his eyes blown with lust as I touched myself for him… _Oh yes._   I squeezed him with my pelvic muscles again, even as I rose slightly and dropped myself firmly back down into his lap.  My hands left his shoulders, where they’d been holding on for balance, and made their way to my neck, stroking and tickling me there in imitation of his lips.  I closed my eyes and threw my head back, relying on his strong hands on my hips to keep me from falling.

 And then I rode him again, but slowly, savouring the stretch in my most intimate place as one hand wandered down to squeeze my breast and the other continued to stroke my neck.  It wasn’t going to take long, I could tell – between the arousal I’d built in making him come apart for me, and that he stirred in my with his naughty ideas and husky voice, I was close to my peak already.  In moments I was gyrating in his lap, both hands kneading my breasts and rolling my nipples firmly, little sparks of lightning sizzling down my nerves to pool at my core.

 I needed another hand, though, I realised.  I was unwilling to release one breast to address the roaring need lower down, but I desperately wanted some pressure on my clitoris.  Frustrated, I opened my eyes and risked a glimpse down to see those intense eyes watching me, moving from my flushed face to my soapy breasts and swollen nipples, his irises almost entirely swallowed by black pupils, his mouth open as he panted frantically.  He licked his lips, a prayer to the Maker under his breath, and the vivid memory of exactly what he’d said when he’d talked me into this hit me: “…use me to take your pleasure.”  I knew exactly what I needed to do.

 I released one breast to snake my hand around behind his head, drawing him forward; I presented the other breast to him like a gift, pressing my pebbled nipple to his lower lip.  Getting the hint, he drew it into his mouth and suckled gently, and I almost came on the spot.  I cried out wantonly, returning one hand to my neglected breast as the other wiggled down between our two sweaty bodies.  I didn’t wait, didn’t tease or test the waters slowly; I attacked my pearl, pinching and rubbing it desperately as I slammed myself down on his length again and again.

 It took only a minute of that before my peak overtook me; I was crying out, sobbing with pleasure, too overwhelmed to even know what was happening next; when I was finally aware again, he had somehow moved, pinning my back against the side of the tub, arching me back over the edge as his lips continued to torment my nipple, my legs wrapped around his hips as he held me up and pounded into me from underneath.  I was only just able to loop my arms around his neck, holding on desperately, before I came again, feeling the swelling and spasming inside me that indicated he’d finished as well.

 Exhausted, I slumped in his arms as he slowly lowered us both back into the tub. 

 “Maker’s breath, Sierra…” 

 I hummed in agreement, too tired to even lift my head; he fumbled for something, and I felt blessed warm water spray over my back as he filled the tub again with my little shower head.

 “Are you alright, love?”

 I basked in the warmth, both of his arms and the water, and finally lifted myself up enough to allow his now soft length to slip out of me.  I met his smug grin with a lazy, satisfied smile of my own, and both of us started to giggle softly.

 “I assume milord is satisfied with his requested reward?”

 He blushed adorably, which was hilarious considering what he’d talked me into mere minutes before.  “Ah, yes.  Completely.  Thank you.”  I cracked up and collapsed against his chest again, shoulders shaking with laughter, and he chuckled.  “I had no idea that would be quite so…stimulating.  You may prove right about the pervert thing yet.”

 When I didn’t move, he proceeded to wash me, gently scrubbing away sweat and grime with a washcloth, before I returned the favour.  He massaged shampoo into my scalp and helped me rinse out conditioner, finally standing and scooping my mostly limp body out of the bottom of the tub once the water had drained again.  We dried off and I hastily braided my damp hair back before both of us crawled into bed.  We spent a few minutes feeding each other the snack he’d pinched from the kitchen, and finally slept curled tightly together, dreamless and deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last update before surgery! Please, everyone, send me your good vibes on the 5th! It's a bit late - it was a long weekend and I was busy! Mostly with lacerating my own nose...and taking my nephew to get his broken arm casted. Sorry!
> 
> As always, I don't own Dragon Age. I was recently reading an article on the origins of fanfiction and how certain authors/IP owners harassed and ruthlessly destroyed the authors who dared to write fanfic in their universes. I can only thank the Maker that BioWare isn't like that...and that fanfic has become established as a legitimate not-for-profit pursuit for amateur authors and artists.
> 
> And a million thanks to my fabulous betas, Kira Tamarion and Melysande, without whom this would be far less polished.


	139. Worst Kept Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late - I messed up! My computer died, and I am posting from my husband's laptop, abd something went sideways when I hit post 2 weeks ago and I didn't realise. I'm so sorry! So two chapters in quick succession, now...

Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Nine: Worst Kept Secret

We had a number of problems to start sorting out the next morning when we met. All of the Wardens – including a somewhat subdued, though still alive Vander – met in the dining room, and I joined them as well. We expected Nathaniel back sometime during the day, but no one wanted to sit around just waiting until that happened. 

We summarised the issues first: finding the Architect as well as the sentient darkspawn who’d escaped from the Mother’s lair; repelling, and hopefully stopping the darkspawn attacks on Amaranthine and the Vigil; finding a cure or treatment for Faren’s poison; and finding the Legion, wherever they’d gone. We also needed to find a secure place for the eluvian we’d brought back from the Dragonbone Wastes, not that most of the people knew what it was or why we’d gone to the effort of bringing it to the Keep in the first place.

The city and Keep were likely to be well-defended; most of the army had returned to the city, except for those who would return to the Vigil later in the day with Nathaniel. The defenses had been rebuilt by Voldrik and the Orzammar craftsmen, and the secret entrances collapsed; anyone caught outside the walls on their own was at risk, but the nearby farm folk had already been relocated to the city and the darkspawn were very unlikely to be able to breach the defenses. I would work with Nate and Varel to set up round-the-clock watches and patrols just in case.

Aedan planned to go to Amaranthine with Zevran, Vander, and Prince to talk to the locals and see if there were sightings or rumours of darkspawn around. Seranni and Velanna would travel to their clan to negotiate a treaty with Nathaniel, and request aid in locating the darkspawn – the Dalish knew the wilderness around Amaranthine well, after all. Alistair was going to take a group including Sigrun and Alim to the abandoned Silverite mine the Architect had occupied in game, and clear it out if any of the darkspawn had relocated there. Conrad would be organising Warden patrols with Oghren, Wulf, and Rolan across the Arling like he had been before, to see if they could sense darkspawn activity anywhere else. And Anders and Solona had been tasked with returning to Kinloch Hold to research Faren’s poison and request the help of additional healers, if possible.

Once fed, and each Warden was clear on their assignment, they scattered to gather the supplies they’d each need. Aedan’s group left almost immediately, Seranni and Velanna in tow – they were going to meet up with Nathaniel on the road to Amaranthine and requisition soldiers to accompany them, as well as connect for last minute discussions with Nate. The rest wouldn’t be leaving until the morning, as they’d need to wait until Nate and the soldiers returned to the Keep. Saying goodbye was difficult for me, and I was starting to think I’d need to crazy glue my little family – Aedan, Zevran, and Alistair, mostly – together so I wouldn’t have to keep being separated from them.

I wasn’t sad to see Vander go, though I did wonder if Zevran had ferreted out his story at any point.

When Nate finally arrived back at the Keep later in the day, we sat down together with Conrad and organised patrols. Each of the four Wardens would lead a squad of soldiers, scouring the wilderness and crossing the less inhabited parts of the Arling looking for signs of darkspawn, while several other squads of soldiers would patrol the various roads, as well as around the Keep itself. One Warden would be near the Keep at any given time, to help defend against any further darkspawn attacks. Guards were assigned to a small, locked storage closet that now contained the eluvian that would ensure we would see Morrigan again, as well as to watch the sealed Deep Roads entrance – _just in case_. We also arranged a regular courier run from the Vigil to Soldier’s Peak once per week.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Nate said, once we were done, “I’d better check in on Thomas.”

“Thomas?” My jaw dropped as I stared at the dark-haired nobleman. “Your brother Thomas?”

“Do you know another one I should be aware of?” he teased. 

“I just…didn’t realise he was here,” I replied lamely. “Fergus mentioned he was…” I tried to find a word for ‘fucked up’ that wasn’t offensive, but still got my point across, “unwell.”

He frowned, expression bleak. “He’s…broken,” he admitted. “We’ve never managed to figure out what he took at that brothel, but it damaged him. He isn’t vicious anymore, but he’s like a child. A confused, sad, never-aging child. He gets upset easily, sometimes harms himself by accident. Anders tells me his mind was affected. It’s irreversible. I honestly don’t know what to do with him. For now I have him isolated in his rooms with a couple of full-time caregivers to keep him safe and entertained.”

“I’m sorry, Nate. I didn’t know something like that was possible.” I’d never heard of even cocaine or PCP leaving someone like that on Earth. “I suppose it should have occurred to me to wonder where he was, but he was never really mentioned, where I’m from. He was supposed to have died when the darkspawn invaded Denerim. I sort of…forgot.” I stood and patted his shoulder, feeling guilty and sad for Nate at the same time. While I’d been having my own personal crisis of conscience and he was organising an intervention, no one was helping him shoulder the burdens of his never-ending family screw-ups. “Would you like company?”

He shook his head. “Thank you, but no. New people tend to make him agitated. He seems to have latched on to me, though, so I’m sure he was a nightmare while I was gone. I’ll have dinner with him, and stay till he falls asleep. I’ll see you in the morning, Sierra.”

I hesitated only for a second before pulling him in for a hug. “If there’s anything I can do…”

He flushed and smiled. “You’ll be the first to know.”

I let him go, and went to find Alistair, my own personal comforter. We ate dinner with the Wardens left at the Keep, and then I bid them all goodbye before they turned in for the night. They were all leaving early, and I knew I wouldn’t see most of them before they departed. Sigrun seemed disgruntled at leaving me and a number of servants in charge of Faren, but I hoped she understood that Alistair needed her.

“I’ve got this,” I assured her for the seventeenth time in five minutes, as she reiterated his food and water requirements yet again. “After everything, do you think I, of all people, would let anything happen to him?” She shook her head ruefully, and I smiled. 

Her level of apparent devotion to the burly dwarf was sweet, and yet I couldn’t help but be somewhat unsettled by it. I didn’t have problems with any of our other companions falling in love, but this one seemed to worry me subconsciously for some reason. And there was that strange tension between Sigrun and Anders I hadn’t had the chance to explore either. As I practiced dripping water into Faren’s open mouth under her critical gaze, I tried to remember if there’d been any weirdness between the mage and either dwarf before, or if the relationship between Faren and Sigrun had been unusual in any way. I tried to picture any interactions I’d seen between the two dwarves, when the reason for my unease, the obvious thing I’d been missing practically slapped me in the face.

“Um, Sigrun? Had you met Faren before he was poisoned?” I’d somehow forgotten that, stuck at Soldier’s Peak like he’d been since the end of the Blight, he hadn’t met any of the Legionnaires before we’d been captured, and that’s what was worrying me – and Anders too, I guessed.

She blushed. “No,” she replied in a small voice. 

“You didn’t know him before joining the Legion of the Dead?” 

She shook her head, sheepish expression noticeable as she refused to make eye contact. I was thunderstruck. _Has she developed some sort of obsession with a dwarf she’s never even spoken to?_ As I pondered how to respond, she started talking.

“I know, I know. It’s weird. I can’t possibly have feelings for someone I don’t know. I’ve already been shouted at by Anders a dozen times. But it doesn’t matter. I just…I know he’s a good person, and I want the chance to get to know him. I don’t expect him to fall for me, or anything. Really!” She looked sideways at me as I stared at her, water skin forgotten in my hand. “Before you give me the lecture, can I ask you something?”

I nodded, completely unable to verbalise any sort of response in my state of shock – and worry.

“What does the Commander feel like to you?”

I cocked my head, confused, feeling a blush creep up my neck. _Is she asking some weird question about my sex life?_ “What do you mean?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “His taint. How would you describe it?”

My eyes widened in alarm. “Sigrun, I’m not…I don’t…” _Why would she ask me that? To her knowledge, I’m not a Warden._

She snorted. “Oh please. Worst kept secret in the entire Order. As soon as we heard what happened to Seranni, everyone realised the same thing must have happened to you. I don’t know how or when, but you’ve been through the Joining too. Everyone knows.”

“Everyone?” I was reeling. What could I say? _She’s not wrong, and I’m not a good enough liar to convince her otherwise._ “Sigrun…”

“You don’t have to worry. No one will tell. Most of the people here care too much for you to risk Weisshaupt finding out. It’s bad enough we have to let Seranni go there.”

I concentrated on my breathing, trying not to panic entirely. “Everyone knows?” She nodded and I slumped in my chair, swearing when a bit of water dribbled out of the skin I still held and on to my dress. I blotted the water hastily with a towel Sigrun handed me, and then rubbed my temples in dismay. “Well that’s…interesting.”

I supposed I shouldn’t have been that surprised; none of the Wardens were stupid, and there were enough strange pieces of evidence to put it together. It didn’t occur to me that learning about Seranni’s condition would lead everyone to guess at mine.

Then I had a thought. “Wait, even Rolan?”

She scowled and shrugged. “Not sure. No one talks to him. Wouldn’t be surprised, though.”

I sighed, hoping it wouldn’t occur to him to share that information with the Chantry. _Yeah, right._ And yet, despite disliking him, I couldn’t help but feel just a little sorry for him – brainwashed and then abandoned to die by the Chantry, recruited to an Order he was probably told was evil, forced to essentially accept blood magic to Join, and then hated by all of his new comrades; his life didn’t sound fun – but not enough to accept his hatred of mages and the crap I knew he’d pull given the chance.

Sigrun interrupted my internal musing. “So?”

I blinked. “I’m sorry. So…what?”

She giggled. “So what does he feel like?”

I smiled softly, thinking about my husband, probably waiting for me in bed. “Sunshine.” I’d never come up with another word to describe it.

Sigrun nodded, seemingly unsurprised. “Ever felt anyone else who felt the same?”

I shook my head. Some of them felt warm – Aedan and Zevran, primarily – but none radiated like Alistair.

“Commander Aedan and Zevran feel the same way about each other – I overheard them talking one day. So do Solona and Anders.” She hesitated, looking anxious, then rushed ahead, her words tumbling over each other in her haste. “I think it’s possible that if people, if Wardens, are meant for each other, if they love each other…I think the taint reflects that. I didn’t give it any thought, until we found you in that dungeon cell. Because…that’s how Faren feels to me.”

I stared at the pretty dwarf, gobsmacked for the second time in a single conversation. I didn’t know what to think. I had never been one to believe much in fate, but my story – my return to Thedas – would give anyone second thoughts. The Architect, and Flemeth for that matter, both claimed to be able to see the future in a limited way…and somehow a man from my Earth was able to see all the events happening in a multiverse, and write them into a video game. The taint feeling warmer for someone you were fated to love seemed like a very small stretch compared to the strange things I’d already seen in Thedas. _Who am I to say she’s wrong?_

I shook my head irritably, feeling a headache coming on. “Look, just…no one can tell you how to feel. Maybe you’re right, and when he wakes up it will be some amazing love story. But, Sigrun, what if it isn’t? Just…try not to get your expectations up, okay? I’d hate to see your heart broken if he doesn’t feel the same way about you.”

She nodded, apparently relieved I hadn’t made fun of her. _I wonder what Anders said to her when she talked to him._ “I won’t. I don’t expect anything. I just can’t help caring for him. And leaving him here…” Her eyes filled with unshed tears.

I reached out to touch her shoulder. “Make you a deal. You keep my husband out of trouble and bring him back in one piece, and I’ll make sure Faren’s taken good care of while you’re gone.”

She smiled then. “Deal.”

I finally left here there, slowly wandering back to my room, mind spinning with worry. Sigrun and Faren were a potential disaster waiting to happen – and so was Rolan, or any other Warden who decided to tell Weisshaupt about me. Even the Chantry seemed likely to be anxious, if they knew, and they had a habit of shooting first and asking questions later.

I wasn’t sure whether it would be best to admit it to everyone, and hope that I could plead my case so they would all keep their knowledge to themselves, or whether to keep denying it and hope that no one would say anything in the absence of confirmation. I trusted Sigrun, Seranni, Anders, and Alim not to tell anyone...but I didn’t trust Rolan a bit, and couldn’t really predict the response of the others. Some of them were likely to be really, really angry at me for keeping it from them. And someone like Vander, who didn’t know me or care about me, could easily be manipulated – using his bitterness, if nothing else – to tell the truth to the wrong person.

I sighed. I had little or no control over the situation, and all I could do was hope for the best.

When I made it back to my room, Alistair was waiting for me, half-naked and curled up on the bed. His sexy smile morphed to a frown when I crawled into his arms without a word, burying my face in his neck and trying not to cry.

“Sweetheart?” Alistair stroked my back, holding me firmly against him. “What’s wrong? Are you worried about us leaving? It’s going to be okay, you know.”

I shook my head, voice shaky. “No, it’s not…well, of course I’m worried, but that’s not it.” The words spilled out of my mouth, then, and I told him everything: everyone knowing I was a Warden, Sigrun and Faren, and Anders’ conflict with the dwarf over her feelings. Alistair just held me, his expression concerned but not panicked, his strong arms somehow easing my worry as I shared it with him.

“We will deal with Faren and Sigrun when the time comes. No point in looking for trouble.” He grinned, eyes crinkling in the corners. “If Faren’s smart, he’ll thank his lucky stars and just go with it.”

“Jealous, are you?” I winked, and he tickled me, making me squeal.

“She’s not you, so no, but I really like her. He could do worse. And she’s not an idiot. She’ll be upset, I’m sure, but I don’t see her acting out or making it awkward if he’s not interested.”

I snuggled into his chest. “I hope you’re right. I don’t want any hard feelings.”

He rumbled an agreement, but then seemed to hesitate before saying more. “As to the other thing…” He sighed. “I’m not surprised. Aedan and I have talked about the possibility.” I looked up at him in shock, and he leaned down to rub noses with me. “Our Wardens aren’t stupid.” 

I nodded ruefully.

“The thing with Seranni only made it worse,” he continued. “The only people I think we need to worry about are Rolan, and any new recruits like Vander. We trust everyone else, and anyone who mentioned anything was encouraged not to talk about it. We won’t let Vander figure it out, and I’m not convinced Rolan knows. After seeing how uncomfortable you were with him at Ostagar, we’ve kept you away from him as much as possible – and it’s not like he talks to any of the others much. He’s focused on the mages, not someone he sees as a templar.” 

“You might be right – but that’s not better. Did you see him smite them when we were fighting the Mother?”

He nodded. “We’ve been trying to decide what to do about him for a while – you were right. I hoped he’d come to see mages as people, but he hasn’t. He keeps claiming Anders is possessed – because he’s a spirit healer, I assume.” I winced internally, trying hard not to show my discomfort with the concept of Anders and possession. _I won’t let Vengeance come to pass!_ “If I didn’t worry about Velanna, I’d send him to Weisshaupt with Seranni and let them deal with him.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Let Avernus have him as a test subject?”

Alistair choked out a laugh. “Don’t even joke about that! You’re terrible.” I grinned and he kissed me softly. “Try not to worry about it, Love. We’ll figure it out.”

“Which part?” I whined pathetically.

“All of it. I promise.” With that he kissed me again, and then again, and before long neither of us were thinking about Rolan.

The next morning, tired and stiff – the good kind of stiff, the kind that put an impish grin on my face – I kissed Alistair goodbye and went back to sleep for a little while, before finally getting up and dragging myself back to my lessons: horseback riding with Samuel, etiquette with Varel, and politics with Nate. I was worried Samuel would be angry with me, given that my last horse had been eaten, but he didn’t mention it; he just told me he was glad I was back and safe. I started by brushing a new horse, and if he noticed my reluctance to talk to it or engage on any sort of emotional level, he kept it to himself.

I visited Faren, spending a frustrating hour dribbling a porridge-type concoction into his mouth. _I hope Anders and Solona find something at the Circle to wake him up – if for no other reason than how bad the porridge smells!_ It was not an easy task, and my respect for Sigrun’s patience rose even more.

I walked the walls, grateful not to feel any darkspawn nearby, and ate a quiet dinner alone in my room. The next several days were more of the same, though I found it harder and harder to concentrate as time went on. I got a letter from Cailan, just saying he was glad I was safe, and that he was planning his trip to Nevarra for the spring. Levi wrote from Soldier’s Peak that some surfacer dwarves, willing to work as miners, were on their way to the Keep and were waiting for someone more experienced from Orzammar to put them to work. The patrols dropped in as they passed the Vigil and reported no signs of darkspawn. As nice as that was, all I wanted was word from my brother and my husband. 

I was enormously relieved when Alistair did finally return; covered in darkspawn blood, filthy, and nursing a recently broken arm – healed by Alim but still tender – I sent him into the shower and straight to bed. But it only ratcheted up my general level of worry: Aedan was supposed to have far less distance to travel, but he still hadn’t returned, and no one had heard from him. Alistair’s tale, told the next morning as we cuddled in bed, didn’t help.

“So? What did you find?”

He sighed. “A lot of darkspawn; they were being controlled by an emissary. But someone else was there, killing them.” He bit his lip, eyes dark as he stared off into space. “I couldn’t feel any other Wardens, but who else would be underground, in a mine with a Deep Roads connection? We killed the emissary, but there were bodies. Fresh darkspawn corpses.”

I pondered this. “I wonder…do ghouls feel different to you, than darkspawn?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think so. What are you thinking?”

“Well, in game,” I began thinking out loud, “the two groups of darkspawn – the Mother’s and the Architect’s – they fight each other. We would find groups of them trying to destroy each other. Neither of them have the numbers that they would have had in game – the Architect doesn’t have as much Warden blood to work with, and the Mother didn’t have time – but the Architect does, or did, have Utha. Do you think you would have sensed her?”

He shook his head. “When we saw them in the Dragonbone Wastes, I didn’t even realise she was a ghoul until you said something. She felt just like normal darkspawn. Do you really think…?

“I don’t know. I guess it depends – on how much she hadn’t known about the Architect. I think he kept the truth from her, used the accelerated taint to manipulate her. In the book, when Genevieve and Bregan realised what he’d done, their reactions were…violent. They both tried to kill him. Maybe she’d do the same? I guess I’d prefer to believe that than think that she went along with him all this time even knowing the truth.”

He hummed in agreement. “Anyway, the emissary we killed was one of the Mother’s disciples. He’d found some way – I assume using blood magic? – to control their minds, like an Archdemon.”

“The Mother knew how to do that, in game. She must have taught them. Do you remember hearing about the Broodmothers the Legion and Conrad killed in that collapsed Thaig?” He nodded. “In game, somehow, the Mother was controlling them – and using them to breed her army. That’s one of the reasons it wasn’t as difficult getting at her as it should have been.”

He shuddered, pulling me closer and kissing my forehead. “I wonder just how much control each Broodmother has over her…progeny, anyway.”

“That’s something that I wondered too, especially given how keen the Architect was to ‘free’ a Broodmother.” I thought for a minute. “I also wonder whether Weisshaupt knows more about Broodmothers. The Wardens at Soldier’s Peak from a few centuries ago too. Maybe that’s what their research was all about?”

My musing was interrupted by Alistair’s confused expression, and my eyes went wide as I swore.

“Sonofa…I didn’t tell you!” I sat up, running an agitated hand through my unruly curls. 

“Love?” Alistair sat up as well, rubbing my back soothingly.

“With everything that happened with Faren, and the Architect, and the Mother…I never gave you guys much of a report about the Peak.” I shook my head, disgusted with myself. “Damnit. Well, I guess we’ll have to go over it twice, because I think I’d better tell you now, not wait for Aedan.”

And I did. I told him about the mines, the tavern, the smithy, and the renovations, and then about the Deep Roads entrance in the basement.

“Makes sense,” he mused. “They’re a long way from Orzammar or any reliable source of darkspawn blood to perform Joinings and monitor the darkspawn activity in the Deep Roads otherwise.”

“There’s more, though. Faren found…well, I think it was a research facility. It predates Avernus, if that tells you anything. But there were cages, stacks of paper…someone was keeping darkspawn, even ogres, alive down there. There was an arena…it made me wonder if they were using them for pit fighting or something, but now I think about it, they might have been doing research on fighting techniques, or the taint, or…I don’t know.”

“That’s…disturbing. Did you read any of the research?”

I sighed, shaking my head. “The parchment was so old it disintegrated if you touched it. I couldn’t read anything. But, you know…there are at least two large rooms full of books in the Keep. I think one of the first people we might need to hire is a scholar – to sort through it, make some sort of catalogue, and read through anything there and see if it’s relevant.”

“We need an archivist.” He looked at me, expression unreadable. “I’d prefer it was a Warden.”

I considered. “I can see that. If there’s secrets…maybe we have a part-time Warden archivist and some sort of scholar who can work together? It seems like a waste to have a Warden whose only job is as a librarian. The scholar can teach, if there’s ever kids at the Keep, and manage the library, but anything Warden-related gets handed to the Warden Archivist?”

He smiled. “See? That’s why you get paid all that coin.” He grinned and leaned in for a kiss. “Can I ask you about something else?”

I nodded, curious.

“That mirror we hauled out of the Dragonbone Wastes…”

I smiled. “The eluvian. I suppose I never really did explain why, did I?” I flopped back on the bed, and Alistair leaned up on one elbow beside me. “Well, let me start at the beginning. So, Morrigan is pregnant, right?” He nodded at me to continue. “The thing is, she thinks Flemeth is after the child, and maybe after her as well. And no, before you say it, Flemeth isn’t dead. She gave an amulet with a…I don’t know, a part of herself, stuck in it…she gave it to a refugee who fled to Kirkwall after Ostagar.” I almost made a horcrux comparison, but it wasn’t like Alistair would have known what I was talking about. 

“Anyway, so Morrigan is looking for somewhere to go to be safe, somewhere she can raise the child and train him in magic. I suspect she’s also seeking information to allow her to defeat Flemeth, but that’s beside the point. Anyway, somehow, she’s going to learn about eluvians. In Arlathan, they were used as sort of…portals. To where, I have no idea. Maybe to Arlathan itself? Or some other world? But Morrigan thinks she’ll be safe there for a time. She will learn there was one in the Brecilian Forest somewhere, but it was corrupted and destroyed. She’ll find shards of it, and use them to track down this eluvian, since they’re all connected. So at some point, she’s going to have to come to us.”

He sighed. “I’d like to hate her, but…”

“She’s the reason Zevran is alive. I know, dear.” I leaned over and kissed his shoulder. “She’s also my friend. Do try to be polite when she comes to visit?” I grinned at him, and he chuckled. “It also gives Conrad the chance to see her again – and a choice. Because if he wants to, he could go with her.”

“Through the eluvian?”

I nodded. “And I think he very well might. I find that reassuring, I have to admit. He can help protect her and the baby.”

“He can also keep her from doing anything stupid.” I scowled, and he had the grace to look sheepish. “I don’t mean malicious, love. It’s just…scared people do reckless things sometimes. Conrad has a good head on his shoulders, for all he acted like a half-wit gigolo when we first met. He won’t let her go too far out of fear.”

I giggled at hearing Alistair say the word ‘gigolo’; when he gave me a funny look, I curled up and guffawed. After a minute he chuckled and rolled onto his back, waiting for me to stop laughing. “Very funny,” he groused. “You can stop making fun of me any time.”

I rolled over suddenly, throwing one leg over so I was laying on top of my husband, my thighs straddling his hips. “Make fun of you, dear husband? Perish the thought.” I kissed him, and we forgot all about the Architect, darkspawn, and Morrigan for the rest of the morning.


	140. Waking Nightmare

Chapter One Hundred Forty: Walking Nightmare

It was two more days before my brother finally returned. While we waited, Sigrun resumed caring for Faren, and Alim shut himself in the library. Alistair went out to meet with Conrad, who’d seen no sign of darkspawn on his patrols; he was worried, however, that Rolan and his patrol hadn’t made it to their last meeting. The patrol routes were planned such that each group met with one of the others once per day, and the former templar hadn’t been there in the morning when Conrad had arrived. Alistair gave Conrad permission to take his group back along the route Rolan should have followed, hoping to find them, perhaps having discovered darkspawn and unable to send a messenger for some reason.

I wasn’t so sanguine, but had no better ideas of where to look. An extra squad of soldiers accompanied the senior Warden, along with a cage carrying one of Nathaniel’s trained birds to bring a message back once Rolan was found.

When Aedan finally did return, I almost forgot completely about Rolan, because my brother brought with him the nightmare I’d spent over a year trying to prevent.

Aedan and the group who accompanied him were filthy; I avoided hugs in favour of an enthusiastic wave, squealing and running away when a grinning, grimy Aedan threatened to grab me.

The problem first became apparent when Vander, previously so vocal and aggressive, walked past the servants and soldiers milling about in the courtyard as though they weren’t even there. He had a blank, unfocused look on his face, and I raised an eyebrow as he ignored even the elven servants being harassed by soldiers clamouring to have their armour cleaned, or food brought to the barracks, or baths drawn. One poor servant, a slight, mousy fellow with yellow teeth and a dramatic cowlick, looked distinctly intimidated, and several of us went to his defense, but Vander wandered past in a fugue, oblivious.

Aedan winced, and Zevran gave Vander a distinctly nauseated look before practically disappearing before my eyes, clearly in an effort to avoid whatever was happening with the elf entirely. Prince, covered liberally in mud, his tail tucked between his legs, slunk off after another servant who was threatening the mabari with a bath; it was an unusual sight, as it usually took threats, treats, and at least Aedan or me to get him to submit to being scrubbed clean. I raised my eyebrows at my brother, and he sighed. Wading forward through the chaos, he grabbed Vander by the wrist, gestured to me and Alistair to follow, and led us inside to our usual private meeting room.

He didn’t stop until the four of us were locked in, he and Vander still dripping mud and Maker-knew what else all over the thick rug. And the entire time, Vander hadn’t said a word – not about being grabbed, practically dragged through the Keep, or about the black slime that coated their armour and boots almost entirely.

With a dramatic flop, Aedan released Vander and threw himself into a nearby chair. Judging by the goop that scraped off his armour onto the fabric arm, the poor piece of furniture was going to have to be burned after he was done with it – as would the rug. Vander just stood there awkwardly, posture stiff and unnatural. Alistair and I traded concerned looks, before turning to Aedan hoping for an explanation.

My brother rubbed irritably at his temples, and then pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “You’re going to kill me.”

I wasn’t sure who that was directed at, but Vander shifted uncomfortably until Aedan raised a hand and finally looked straight at me. His eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles underneath. _He looks like hell._

“Aedan, what happened?”

“I’ll…get to that. I think I should start at the beginning.” He held a hand up as Vander’s head snapped up and his mouth opened; to my shock, the elf looked away again without saying anything.

“When we were in Amaranthine, we got word from some of the farmers who’d fled to the city that darkspawn had been spotted. The reports sounded like the darkspawn were too organised, so we assumed there must have been one of the sentient ones leading them, but no one knew exactly where they were headed. We went east, picked up the taint, and followed it across to the peninsula. We fought a large group of darkspawn, but no emissary or anything; then Vander found a trail. It led to the Blackmarsh.”

Black Marsh? The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I tried to think back to my patrol planning with Nate, but I was sure we’d never discussed it. _Was it from the game?_

And then it came to me. Blackmarsh. An abandoned town full of ghosts that inhabited the Fade, forever fighting against the Baroness who abused, and then trapped them. Ghosts who drew the attention of a spirit of Justice.

A place the Wardens in my alternate version of Thedas were never supposed to go.

I looked at Aedan desperately, dread settling in the pit of my stomach like so much spoiled meat.

“We found the darkspawn – he called himself the First. And he had this orb, he did something…”

 _No!_ My mind screamed while my body was paralysed with horror and disbelief. My poor brother had been trapped in the Fade, and then…

That meant…

I swivelled to face Vander, studying his face, his hair, delicately sniffing the air to see if I could detect the scent of decomposition. I couldn’t smell anything, but something about the way the elf stood, back ramrod straight, expression blank, almost like he wasn’t seeing…

Aedan had kept talking, unaware of my internal dialogue and my budding awareness. I interrupted him as he started talking about the Baroness, addressing the body in the room that I was more and more sure wasn’t the home of an angry Grey Warden any longer.

“Justice?”

Vander’s body turned to look at me, clearly startled, if you looked only at the body language and ignored the unnaturally still face. “Yes?” His voice was deep, deeper than any elf had the right to, without the eerie double-timbre of an abomination – like Connor, or Uldred – but clearly no longer belonging to a person. “And no,” it continued, ignoring Aedan as he jumped to his feet and Alistair as he took one look at my face and gripped the pommel of his sword.

Aedan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “You knew? You did. Of course you did.” He rubbed at his face irritably, making lines in the muck caked on his skin. “Why didn’t you warn us?”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the body in front of me containing a spirit I’d hoped never to see. I ignored Aedan’s question for the moment. “No?” I inquired. “You aren’t Justice?”

“Not…entirely,” he replied tonelessly. “I am Justice, but I am also Vander.”

I took a step back, shocked. “What? How…?”

Aedan responded, tone irate. “Vander was injured. The First stabbed him before we went into the Fade. With no healer, and after being in the Fade for so long…”

“He was dying,” Justice cut in. “He fought to defend the villagers trapped in the Fade, fought for justice. He would not have survived the blood loss. When I found myself in the real world, not the Fade, I…helped. Together we could survive wounds that otherwise would have been mortal. There would have been no justice in letting him die. But now we are one, in a way I did not expect.”

Mouth agape, I stepped back, stumbling away from the abomination – _wait, it isn’t called an abomination unless the possessed is a mage; what’s this called?_ – in front of me until I bumped into a chaise, sinking down onto it mindlessly. _This is worse than I could have imagined. Not only is Justice in the real world, but he’s already possessed someone._ I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop myself from shaking.

Alistair still had his eyes locked on the creature who’d accompanied Aedan back from the swamp; Aedan however, watched me, and his irritated expression morphed into one of concern as he got up and knelt in front of me.

“Sierra? It’s okay. It’s a spirit, not a demon. Vander lived, thanks to Justice! It’s going to be okay, I promise. Just breathe, sis.”

I must have looked pale; I didn’t resist when Aedan encouraged me to lean forward, putting my head between my knees as I hyperventilated. I let out a hysterical laugh.

“It’s not okay. It’s…” I trailed off, sitting upright again and meeting my brother’s eyes. “Do you know the difference between a demon and a spirit?” 

He looked puzzled, and opened his mouth to reply. I cut him off before he could.

“There isn’t one, Aedan…they’re the same, except one has been corrupted by the negative aspects of emotions. Pride, fear, desire, greed…they all have spirit counterparts. Spirits that can be corrupted.”

“I am no demon!” Justice roared suddenly. “I am _Justice!_ ” Blue light flickered in the room, surreal, like I was back on earth standing near a failing neon light. I looked at Vander to see cracks in his skin, the blue bleeding through and glowing like a lantern. His voice took on that frightening, supernatural double-timbre I associated with abominations, and I cringed.

Alistair, still watching the possessed elf while we talked, had his sword drawn and held to Justice’s neck before he could take a single step towards me. “You’re doing a poor job of reassuring us of that, then, _spirit_ ,” he quipped, his arm not wavering as the point drew a tiny trickle of blood from the creature’s flesh.

Aedan sprang up from the floor, turning to the spirit, surprised at the rage audible in the creature’s unnatural voice. “Justice?”

The blue light faded as quickly as it had come, Vander’s normal tanned skin colour returning with no sign of the cracks we’d seen moments before. Face flushed, Justice took a step back, looking away in what would have looked like shame had he been a person. “I apologise, Commander. These emotions…they are stronger than I’d imagined.”

Aedan nodded, expression unreadable. “Justice, I would like to send you to a room to get cleaned up. I will have someone escort you. I will come talk to you in a little while, alright?”

The spirit nodded, and with a quick squeeze of my shoulder, Aedan stepped out of the room. Alistair lowered his sword but didn’t sheath it, moving to stand between me and the spirit.

Justice leaned around Alistair to see me, where I sat staring wide-eyed at him. “I apologise. I hope you will give us another chance to talk with you. I would like to explain.”

Alistair grunted, but I just bobbled my head – neither a nod nor a shake; an undecided motion that didn’t commit me to anything. Seeming to accept that, Justice turned to face the door Aedan had slipped out of, and when my brother returned a moment later, a servant in tow, he followed the servant wordlessly out of the room.

“Sierra? Can I clean up, and then meet you in your room in a few minutes?” He scowled down at me, expression softening slightly when he saw my pale face, lip trembling. “I think we should talk somewhere private.”

I nodded, and got up to follow him upstairs; Alistair retrieved my little shower head for Aedan to help speed things along, and my brother disappeared into his room. I followed Alistair into ours, sighing heavily as he wrapped his arms around me. We shifted to the small couch by the hearth, and I crawled into Alistair’s lap, resting my head against his chest and listening quietly to the sound of his heart beating as I concentrated on slowing my breath. He didn’t ask me anything, to my relief; he should have been angry with me for keeping secrets, but it seemed he knew something more was going on. He just sat, rubbing my back, until there was a knock on the door and both Aedan and Zevran slipped in when Alistair called out.

The two men settled – Aedan into the chair, Zevran on the floor at his feet – and looked at me expectantly. I sighed.

“In the game, there were Orlesian Wardens here after the Blight to help ‘rebuild’ the order.” Aedan nodded; I’d already told them that. “One of them was named Kristoff. Before the attack on the Vigil, Kristoff had received word that a talking darkspawn had been seen heading into Blackmarsh. He went alone to look, and was killed by the First. When you came to Amaranthine, Varel knew that Kristoff was the only Warden not here during the attack on the Vigil. You followed his trail to Blackmarsh, found his body, and became trapped in the Fade. When you escaped, Justice ended up possessing Kristoff’s corpse.” I shook my head. 

“Without Kristoff, with the Mother having so much less time…I thought we could avoid Justice. You were never supposed to go there! I couldn’t even remember the name of the damned swamp where he came from.” I tucked my head under Alistair’s chin, shuddering slightly. “Justice helped fight the Mother, even tried to make it up to Kristoff’s wife for essentially stealing her husband’s body.”

“Sounds admirable enough. But…?” Aedan prompted.

I sighed. “Kristoff’s body was decomposing. It was gross. Eventually Justice made a deal with one of the Wardens. He abandoned Kristoff’s body and they…merged.”

I stood, pacing over to the hearth anxiously. “Justice seems like such a good ideal, doesn’t it? Sounds so…righteous.” I looked over my shoulder at my brother, only to see Zevran nodding almost ruefully. I wondered if he’d somehow guessed what happened. “Justice is fine and dandy, but do you know what justice without mercy, without compassion looks like?” I looked back at the crackling fire. “Vengeance. It looks like murdering innocents because they didn’t do ‘enough’ to help those who were being abused. It looks like starting a war that killed thousands to avenge the wrongs done by others in the past.” All I could see in my head was the Kirkwall Chantry exploding, the bodies of innocents scattered in the streets.

I turned back to Aedan. “In the game, the spirit of Justice became a demon of Vengeance when exposed to someone’s anger. He became corrupted. And that person…was never nearly as angry as Vander. He was a willing host. How much worse will it be with Vander’s bitterness, with Vander never volunteering to be a host in the first place?”

Aedan and Zevran exchanged horrified looks, and Alistair held his arms out for me to crawl back into. I huddled into a miserable ball, pressing my face into Alistair’s neck in despair. I couldn’t face the angry expressions I expected on all those in the room.

“I’m sorry. I honestly thought I’d prevented this from happening. I should have told you.” A couple of tears soaked into Alistair’s shirt, and I wiped at them irritably. “I keep thinking I can control things, fix things…I should have known better.”

Aedan sighed, then reached over and took my hand. “I won’t say that I don’t wish you had told us. But honestly, it would have made little difference. The First still needed to be dealt with, so someone would have ended up in the Fade, and I don’t think there would have been a way of preventing Justice from being expelled. We’re just going to have to try to limit the damage. And keep him away from Anders, obviously.”

I looked up at that, startled, wondering if I’d somehow messed up and mentioned the mage during my explanation.

Aedan snorted. “I can read between the lines, Sierra. Anders needs to be in Kirkwall, you’ve told me. The war between mages and templars starts in Kirkwall. Justice becomes Vengeance and starts a war…it’s not hard to put the puzzle pieces together. Anders became possessed by Justice and they both went to Kirkwall, right?”

I nodded. “Rolan and some of his templar friends attacked Anders, who merged with Justice and slaughtered them. But you can’t tell Anders. Please? He isn’t the same person he was in the game. He’s different – more settled, less angry. I don’t want him to think it’s inevitable, to think he will become a monster.”

“Alright. Here’s what we’ll do. I’m already in discussions with Viscount Dumar to allow a branch of the Ferelden Grey Wardens to open in Kirkwall. He sees it as a way of increasing his own power. I managed to point out that it was a bit insulting that Kirkwall never had a permanent Grey Warden presence despite its ‘importance’.” He grinned at me, and I smiled wanly back, just relieved he wasn’t as angry as I deserved. 

“When they get back from the Circle – hopefully with a cure for Faren, and another healer – I’ll transfer Anders and Solona to Kirkwall as soon as possible to ‘establish a Warden presence’. Nate and Cailan are going to send some people as well to see if they can’t facilitate the return of some of the Fereldan refugees. Anders can open a clinic, if he wants. It will serve multiple purposes – endear the Wardens to the locals, help out the Fereldan refugees, recruit some Wardens, and maybe return some of the Fereldans home to help with the recovery from the Blight.”

“And it keeps Anders away from the spirit of Justice, yes? Cleverness is very sexy, amore mio.” Zevran grinned lasciviously at my brother, and Aedan flushed slightly at the praise.

“You already contacted the Viscount?” I was flabbergasted. _When has he even had time?_

“Well, I wasn’t about to have Anders leave the Grey Wardens, but you told me he needed to be in Kirkwall. This way, he stays a Warden but can still do the things he needs to. And Solona can go with him to keep him grounded. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. She won’t let him do anything too stupid.”

“So what do we do about Justice?” Alistair finally asked the question we’d all been avoiding.

“We need to talk more, first. He says Vander is still in there. I want to know what that means, exactly, and if there’s any way to get him back. I want to find out if they can be separated safely. I’m thinking we’ll need a trip to see Avernus, perhaps. And then we can decide what to do from there.”

“And if they can’t be separated?” I cringed, almost not wanting to know. “If Vander’s anger corrupts Justice?”

Aedan grimaced, refusing to make eye contact. “I won’t allow someone who’s possessed, especially someone who is linked to the Wardens, to harm anyone.” He left unsaid what that would mean, but that didn’t make it any less clear; regardless of the pity he might feel for Vander, Justice would be killed if necessary.

“Did you ever get a chance to figure out Vander’s story, anyway?”

Zevran flushed and looked away; Aedan shook his head ruefully. “And now I don’t know if we will. He says Vander is in there, but from what I’ve seen, Justice is the one with control.” He sighed. “Shall we go meet with Justice?”

Aedan fetched the spirit, and the five of us met in our usual room near the dining hall. I was relieved to see the carpets and chair that had been soiled by Aedan’s filthy armour had been removed, though not yet replaced. _I’ll have to pay Nate back, since the Wardens haven’t worked out the details on tithes with Cailan – and there’s lots of things they’ll need with the gold Aedan managed to squirrel away during the Blight._ I sank into a couch with Alistair beside me, Aedan and Zevran in chairs on my other side, and a blank-faced Vander – Justice – standing across from us.

No one seemed to know where to start; the four of us exchanged uncomfortable glances while Justice stood, unnaturally still and implacable. Finally I sighed.

“Justice? Should we call you Justice? Or Vander?”

“I am Justice,” he responded in his unnaturally deep voice.

“Please, sit? It tends to make people uncomfortable when you stand while they are sitting.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding and pulling up a chair. He was clean, so I assumed someone had drawn him a bath, and he wore some unfamiliar breeches and a tunic which was slightly too small for him; I wondered if they’d put him in Vander’s room, or somewhere else.

“Can you tell us what you mean when you say you are also Vander?”

He fixed me with an unblinking gaze. “Vander’s essence is within this mind, just as my own is. I have access to his knowledge and memories.”

I tried to suppress the horror I felt – or at least keep it from showing on my face. “But you have control of his body? It is you speaking to us, not Vander?” He nodded. “So he is trapped in there? A prisoner? Can he hear us?”

Justice shook his head, expression almost…frustrated. “It is not like that. He is not listening, not a separate being. If anything…it would be like he was asleep. I know what he knew, but I am also Justice. We are one and the same.”

I tugged a lock of my hair roughly. “Can you…are you able to tell how he feels, or would have felt, about things?”

“His emotions are my emotions, it seems. So yes, in some way, I can.”

“And how does…how would he feel about sharing his body with you? About you being the one with control?”

He seemed to think about it for a moment, eyes going distant and vague, and I wondered if he was trying to ask Vander or just combing through his memories. “Perhaps there is some difference between us. From what I know about Vander, he would have found this situation infuriating, however I do not feel his irritation.”

Zevran muttered something in Antivan under his breath, and though I couldn’t understand him, the sentiment was clear – Justice wasn’t irritated, because it did not bother _him_. He wasn’t the one whose body had been stolen.

“Tell me this, then, my unusual spirit,” Zevran finally asked in Common. “How do you feel about humans? As opposed to elves, say.”

Justice tilted his head curiously, and for some reason the gesture gave me the creeps. _If he’s a spirit, how does he know people often cock their heads when they’re confused or surprised?_ I yanked my hair again, until Alistair reached up and took my hand, gently untangling the brown strands and tucking them behind my ear before lacing his fingers through mine.

“I…Vander feared humans. Shems, he would call them. He had many reasons.”

“But do you? Fear or hate them?”

“No. I have watched the human souls trapped in the Fade for a long time. I am not afraid, though at times since we merged I have found myself…suspicious.”

“So you do have separate emotions, but his…bleed through?” I was fascinated, but also horrified. And we did need to know how much Vander’s anger would transfer over. _Maybe Anders’ transferred over more because Anders was in control and Justice the passenger?_

“I do not know. Perhaps.”

“Do you know Vander’s reasons for being afraid of humans?” Aedan asked. Justice blinked, looking away, and then refocused on my brother and nodded. “Would you tell us?”

“Only if…only if you think Vander wouldn’t have minded,” I cut in. _I can’t seem to stop talking about him like he’s dead – though he might as well be, for all the impact he can have on his own life at this point._ “I think it’s important we respect his wishes and not divulge information he would have preferred to keep to himself.”

Justice thought again, longer this time, and finally nodded. “I believe Vander, had he learned to trust you, would have come to tell you himself. I have no reason not to trust you, Commander; you gave those people justice and have treated me fairly despite the situation we are in.” He took a breath, prompting me to wonder if Justice, inside Kristoff’s corpse, would have needed to breathe, and then to wonder whether remembering to breathe was difficult for a spirit unused to the physical demands of a body. _He does forget to blink a lot – I wonder if his eyes get dry?_

I was interrupted in my musing when Justice, his voice somewhat muted compared to the almost booming I’d become used to, began to speak. “I will attempt to start at the beginning…”


	141. InJustice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright I dunno what happened - somehow chapter 139 posted itself three times, then chapter 140 didn't post, then I accidentally posted 141...I'm so confused. But I think I've got it sorted now, and caught up. Chapter 142 in a week or so!

Chapter One Hundred Forty-One: InJustice

Vander’s story turned out to be far more involved – and yet, not at all more surprising – than I expected.

“What would you like to know?” Justice asked, unearthly voice booming.

Aedan looked to me and Alistair, clearly hoping someone else would take over the line of questioning.

I sighed. “Let’s start at the beginning. Where did he live? Does he have any family?”

“Until he became a Warden, he was living in the…what exactly is an Alienage?” His expression, still queerly blank, looked like what I’d seen on earth when people were put on hold – _accessing Vander’s memories?_ After a moment, while I debated how to answer, he scowled and his voice got even louder. “They trap all elves behind walls like caged animals? There is no justice in that!”

All four of us responded as one, holding hands out in a placating fashion, voices soft and soothing, hoping to avoid a repeat of the episode where he got all blue and glowy. _Which is WAY scarier in person than in a video game!_ Only I knew the magical abilities he could potentially manifest when he was like that, assuming it was anything like when he’d been merged with Anders.

“No, no, Justice, we know. It’s not fair. Let us explain. Please, calm down.” 

“The Alienages are as much for the elves’ sakes as for anything else. Even in Highever, where they are treated much better, they prefer to live apart from the humans. When we’ve offered to fully integrate elves into the city, they decline, preferring to stay together,” Aedan explained.

“And they are not all alike,” Alistair assured him. “Some are terrible places, but we’re trying to fix that. The Alienage in Denerim was just completely rebuilt to improve the lives of everyone living there. But in Amaranthine…” he trailed off.

“Racial discrimination was common, even encouraged by the former Arl, from what we gather,” Zevran cut in. “The walls probably protected as much as they also imprisoned, yes?”

“It’s one of the things Arl Nathaniel is trying to fix,” Aedan continued. “He and his sister, Bann Delilah. They’re improving the Alienage, trying to guarantee safety for the elves living there.”

Slightly mollified, the spirit relaxed fractionally and continued. “He was working at a farm near Amaranthine to earn enough to support his sister and her son.”

We’d known about the farm, of course – he’d been fleeing from there when he’d become tainted by the darkspawn. “So he has a sister, and a nephew. Any other family? Parents?” He was barely twenty, if that – his parents wouldn’t be that old, likely.

Justice shook his head. “His father died when he was young. His mother…disappeared from the Alienage last year, at a time when many elves went missing in Amaranthine.”

The four of us exchanged saddened looks, knowing what that most likely meant; Rendon Howe hadn’t been successful at selling elves from Denerim to Tevinter, but the Amaranthine Alienage hadn’t been so lucky. _She’s probably a slave to some magister as we speak. Perhaps Vander’s hatred of humans is even more justified than we knew._ No one explained it to Justice, nervous about his potential reaction to such a horrible fate.

He went on to explain that Vander, younger even than we’d thought at only eighteen, and his older sister Kahril, a beautiful blonde, couldn’t find enough work to feed themselves (and, I guessed, were terrified of being kidnapped by Tevinters as well) and so Kahril became ‘involved’ with one of the city guardsmen, Brandin. Justice didn’t seem to fully understand the implication, thankfully, but it was clear to me she’d prostituted herself to the man in return for coin, protection from slavers – and sword training for Vander. _Which explains how an elf from the Alienage would have enough skill to defend a group of civilians from darkspawn._

“After several months, almost all of the guards including Brandin left, and they heard that he was killed in some sort of battle.”

“When was this, Justice? Was it the battle against the Archdemon?” Aedan interrupted. 

Justice paused for a moment, then replied, “No, before that. He believed they were fighting other humans, in some sort of civil war.”

I scowled. _So Rendon Howe pulled all the guards from the city during the civil war to fight other nobles in the bannorn, and left Amaranthine unguarded? Jerk. Bet Esmerelle and her smuggling, slaving friends loved that!_

“Sorry, continue,” Aedan sat back, expression grim, and I knew he’d come to the same conclusion I had.

“When Kahril became outcast from the Alienage-“

“Wait, wait. Why was she cast out?” I hoped Justice wouldn’t get irritated at the frequent interruptions, but he mostly seemed just puzzled. _Turns out spirits have no idea how to narrate stories. Varric would do a much better job of spinning this tale!_

“She had a child.” His forehead wrinkled in confusion. “The elves treat them poorly because he is human.”

I face-palmed dramatically. “Because Maker-forbid that stupid racial discrimination should be limited to humans.”

Zevran chuckled wryly and Alistair squeezed me briefly. 

Justice nodded uncertainly in my direction. “Yes, racial discrimination seems particularly unjust. So to support his sister and nephew, Vander started working at the farms outside the city – after the Blight, there was a great need for farm workers and the pay was better.”

“Until he became tainted.” I sighed. “Wait, did he go see his sister while you were in Amaranthine?” I asked Aedan.

He shook his head. “We didn’t have a lot of time to spend in the city, once we’d heard rumours of talking darkspawn in Blackmarsh.”

“So how is Kahril being supported now?”

Justice nodded at me. “Vander had been worrying about that as well.”

Aedan rubbed his face irritably. “I’m not convinced letting her see you like…this,” he gestured at Justice, “is a good idea. I doubt very much she’ll take kindly to her brother being possessed.”

“We will find some way to support her,” Alistair assured me. “We can talk about that later.”

“So, Justice? What are your plans now?” I decided to change the subject, uncomfortable with dwelling on the effect Justice was having on Vander’s life.

“Well, your Commander has explained the problem with the darkspawn to me. It was a darkspawn who injured Vander in the first place, and they do much harm in this world. The Grey Wardens serve a just cause, and I would stay here, if you would allow it, and fight the darkspawn.”

“Do you…wish to…remain, inside Vander?” I was afraid to ask the question, but we needed to know. If we were to find a way to free the poor elf from possession, having Justice’s cooperation seemed necessary.

“Knowing that he would not be happy with my presence, I wish there was another way. However, I am not aware of a way to return to the Fade, and if I separate from this body, I do not know what will happen. Vander may not survive, nor would I. I do not wish to die.”

Aedan cleared his throat. “There is a mage – ancient, and very knowledgeable, at our Keep nearby. It is possible he may know more about this than any of us. Would you permit me to write to him, and to the Circle of Magi, to see if anyone knows of a way to return you to the Fade?”

The spirit stilled, apparently thinking, then finally nodded. “If there were a way to give Vander back his life, without killing me in the process, I would be willing to try. Being in the mortal realm was not by choice, and taking Vander’s life does not serve justice, but I saw no other way for either of us to survive. I would gladly find another way, if it was safe.”

“I am certain that, willing or not, Vander would appreciate being alive. I’m sure we can…figure something out.” Alistair looked positively leader-ish in that moment, and I grinned to myself. “For now, if you could provide as much information about Vander’s sister as you are able – where she lives, her last name, whatever you think will help us find her, we will make arrangements to help provide for her.” 

“Varel will have what you need – wait, do you know how to read and write?” Aedan asked; Justice shook his head. “Just ask Seneschal Varel to write down what you say. We will meet you in the dining room for supper.”

Dismissed, Justice went in search of Varel, leaving me alone with my boys.

“Well, that could have gone worse, yes?” Zevran drawled wryly. “How do you say it, _cara mia_? He gives me the creeps.”

I snickered. “Do you think we should tell him about me? About what I know?” I had decided I clearly wasn’t the best person to decide what secrets should be kept. I still wasn’t even sure if Loghain knew about me – one more thing to add to the list for discussion with Aedan and Alistair.

No one answered, the three men sharing similar pensive looks. 

“I just thought, maybe if he knew about Vengeance…maybe we could prevent it just by him knowing? I mean, we can keep Anders away, but I’m worried Vander’s anger could corrupt him just as easily.”

“He didn’t react well to the idea of an Alienage, that’s for sure. What happens when he realises the missing elves are actually probably slaves in Tevinter? Maker.” Alistair ran a hand through his hair, leaving it spiking up irregularly, and I smoothed it back down with a smile.

“I’m not certain how he will respond.” Aedan slumped. “You saw how he got when you compared him to a demon. What if he doesn’t believe us?”

“Maybe wait until Avernus has a chance to look at him, no? One would think a blood mage would know more about spirits and demons than any of us.” Zevran patted Aedan’s shoulder reassuringly.

“For now, anyway, we can support Vander’s sister. She can have his wages as long as Justice is with us, and after…” Alistair trailed off looking uncomfortable. “Well, we will deal with that when the time comes.”

“When we send Justice to Soldier’s Keep, maybe I’ll see if Nate would hire her at the Vigil. I think she’d have a lot less trouble with an elf-blooded child here.” Aedan sighed. “Stupid racial politics…”

I sighed too. “As compelling as this topic is, there’s some other things we need to discuss. We never got the chance, after you rescued me…”

Neither Zevran nor Aedan had any more insight into just what research the Wardens might have been doing in the Deep Roads under Soldier’s Peak, though Aedan was less displeased than the rest of us to have a Deep Roads entrance in the basement. “We’re going to have to find some maps, see where they lead,” he enthused. “Maybe we’ve got a shortcut to Orzammar! I wonder if Shale and Caridin would like to help us explore. They’ve mapped hundreds of tunnels under the Wilds and near Orzammar…”

Which eventually led to a discussion of the many other topics I’d been worrying about:   
-Sigrun and Faren – “cross that bridge when we get there,” was Aedan’s response, while Zevran seemed to be fantasizing about dwarf sex, if the lascivious look on his face was anything to go by;  
-My ‘secret’ being well-known among our Wardens – Alistair had predicted Aedan’s response perfectly, which was to quietly ensure that all of them knew enough not to discuss it amongst themselves, never mind with anyone else, and otherwise ignore it;   
-Loghain – who had not been told about my secret, but would need to be updated, given his questions about why the Architect would kidnap me, not to mention that he’d earned my trust (if not my total forgiveness) by guarding me and coming to my rescue;  
-Rolan’s attitude towards mages, which had never seemingly improved, if smiting them ‘accidentally’ during the fight with the Mother was any indication – Aedan was still considering sending him to another Warden base, either in Orlais or to Weisshaupt itself;  
-And lastly, Rolan’s whereabouts. We still hadn’t received a bird from Conrad, nor had there been any sign of the Templar’s patrol.

“I wish we had Morrigan around to scout now,” Aedan groused. “I don’t want to send another patrol after them – if it’s lost as well, then what do we do?”

“We aren’t going to have much choice.” Alistair frowned. “Should we go talk to Arl Nathaniel and make plans?”

We all tromped up the many winding steps to the room Nathaniel kept as a study; maps of the Arling, including our designated patrol routes, darkspawn sightings, and anything else of interest were marked with pins, string, and small paperweights. Nate wasn’t there, and Aedan sent a servant to request that he and Seneschal Varel join us whenever they could. The four of us gathered around the maps while we waited.

Alistair placed a pin where Conrad’s patrol route met up with Rolan’s, two days to the south and west of the Vigil. “This is where Rolan’s group failed to report. Which direction was he coming from?”

I consulted the list I’d drawn up with Nate, and pointed further southwest. “He was supposed to be passing the Tarcaisne Ridge looking for darkspawn.” That ridge was the border of the Arling on the southwest side; above the ridge was the central bannorn.

“It was…four days ago that he missed the meeting. So really, Conrad would only be reaching there now anyway,” Alistair predicted, trying to figure out the time since he’d last spoken to the senior Warden. “Maybe we should just give him more time?”

We were interrupted by Nate and Varel, who exchanged greetings with us and joined us around the map.

“What’s the Tarcaisne Ridge like, Nate?” Aedan pointed, then leaned back, clearly trying to get a wider view on the whole area.

“It’s a pretty sheer cliff face,” the noble replied, tugging one of his dark braids pensively. “There’s only a couple of paths up, and even they are somewhat risky, at least in spring. Mud slides are common.”

“Caves?” Aedan asked. “We think one of our patrols disappeared somewhere near there, and we wondered if they could have encountered darkspawn.”

“It’s possible,” Nate admitted. “It’s far enough away that I didn’t explore there as a boy. I only went there once, accompanying my father to Kinloch Hold when I was young.”

I turned to Nate, brow furrowed. “That’s the route to get to Kinloch?”

“The most direct way, yes. Father used to go there…actually, I’ve no idea why. But he stopped going there when I was perhaps ten. I only accompanied him the once.”

I looked at Aedan and Alistair, apprehension rising and feeling like it would choke me. “You don’t suppose…I mean, would Anders and Solona have gone that way?” Varel nodded confidently, and I gulped. “He wouldn’t have gone after them, would he?”

Aedan swore. “He’d better not, if he wants to keep his head,” he threatened, voice low and growly. “But they’re not due back for another week or so, right? Which means Conrad might get there in time to disrupt an ambush, if that’s what’s happening. And I suppose we could send another patrol now and hope to catch up to them.”

“There’s just too much going on at once,” Alistair complained. “It feels like we’re too spread out. For example, does no one have any idea where the Legion of the Dead went? They may need our help as well, if they’ve discovered anything.”

“Even Sigrun said she didn’t know, and I believe her. But I wonder…Trevian was quite upset about the damage to that Thaig where they met Conrad, no? Would they have returned there?” Zevran speculated.

“Kal’Hirol?” I glanced at the map. “Wulf’s patrol should pass near there. But because Conrad is gone, we haven’t heard word from him in five days. I don’t know how badly the Thaig was damaged – is there even a way in now?”

“Why not send scouts? There are several still here,” Nathaniel offered. “They’ll travel faster by horse than the patrols will, and we can even send messenger birds with them. Send one to meet up with the patrol nearest the dwarven Thaig, and another to meet up with the other patrol. Send one through the pass towards Lake Calenhad, to see if Conrad or Rolan can be found, or if not, to warn the mages – they can take the longer route north and avoid any ambush the scout missed. The scouts can send back the birds with whatever they find.”

“Excellent idea. We will definitely take you up on that, Nate; thanks. “

I glanced at the map again, my gaze instinctively shying away from the place where I’d been held captive by the Architect. I sighed and pointed. “What about,” I winced, “the Deep Roads here? There was an entrance on the surface, and even if not in the same complex where they kept me, there could have been other places for the Architect to hide.”

Alistair smiled, the grimmest and yet most satisfied grin I’d ever seen on his handsome face. “Not possible.” He looped his arm around my waist, holding me to him. “After we rescued you, Anders, Solona, Jowan, and Alim all worked together to collapse the entrance – and probably half of the tunnels for miles around. Velanna kept them safe while they worked.” 

Aedan grinned back at Alistair. “Mental note: don’t piss off a bunch of mages.”

I laughed.

Our impromptu meeting broke up for Nate and Aedan to start sending scouts out after our errant Wardens; afterwards we all met for supper, including Justice. It was odd, watching a spirit eat; I somehow expected him to be different, or perhaps survive on Fade energy alone, or something, but he shoveled in a healthy Warden-sized portion just like everyone else. The only difference was he seemed completely indifferent to the various tastes and textures, mixing together foods that I’d never have combined and showing no preference for any of the items the cook had prepared for us.

I found myself avoiding Justice over the next few days as we waited for word back from the scouts; between the worry that something terrible had happened – to Conrad, or to Anders and Solona – or that something terrible was about to happen – and where was the damned Architect, anyway? – I was a walking bundle of nerves, and Justice was just one more thing to worry about. Even Alistair had trouble distracting me, and I found myself lying awake long after he’d fallen asleep, listening to the soft hum of his snoring and trying not to think. I ended up getting up to walk the ramparts by moonlight, pacing for an hour before total exhaustion finally allowed me to sleep when I returned to our room.

We finally got the first bird back from the scout who went to find Wulf; his patrol had been uneventful, and Kal’Hirol was still, to the best of his ability to check, collapsed and abandoned. A second bird came the same day; Oghren’s patrol – roaming through much of the Feravel plains – had found several small groups of darkspawn and eliminated another of the Mother’s sentient darkspawn, but had seen no sign of the Architect or the dwarves. I knew that both had been given orders that, if nothing unusual had been found on their patrols, they should return to the Vigil as quickly as possible so that they would be nearby when needed to face the Architect.

It was another two days of worry before we got back the final bird, from the scout who’d headed towards where Rolan and Conrad had disappeared – and the route the mages would take on their way back to the Vigil. And what it said would leave me even more terrified than I had been before.

_Commanders,_

_Unable to reach the mages. Many darkspawn surrounding Tarcaisne Ridge. Avoided first few groups, but am surrounded. Warden patrols not found. Sending bird before I am overwhelmed. Recommend you come in force._

_Maker watch over me, and take me to your side._

_Tell my wife and son I love them._

_Scout Lawrence_

I bit my lip, eyes welling up in horror as I read the brief missive over Alistair’s shoulder after Aedan handed it to him. _Are Conrad and Rolan dead? What about their soldiers? Where are Solona and Anders?_ I struggled to calm my breathing, trying to use my head despite the frantic beating of my heart and the gut-wrenching nausea I felt. _Panicking isn’t going to help anyone, Sierra._

My brother and Nate had already started shouting out orders, not that many were needed – the remaining soldiers and Wardens had been on alert, packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice since we had assumed we’d be fighting the Architect hopefully sooner rather than later.

“How many darkspawn does he have, to have taken two patrols with Wardens?” I worried. “Assuming that’s what happened to them.” 

Alistair wrapped his arms around me, nuzzling my cheek reassuringly. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got two more patrols headed their way, in addition to us and all the soldiers under Nate’s command. We’ll rescue them if they’ve been taken, and kill the Architect too. I swear it.”

I clung to him for a brief moment, trying to absorb his confidence and make it my own; finally I pulled away. “I love you.” I went up on tiptoes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Let’s go kick some ass.”

He laughed, and I sprinted away to put on my armour and pack the few things we didn’t have ready to go, leaving him with Aedan to arrange our immediate departure.


	142. Seek and Find

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Two: Seek and Find

 

Anxiety drove us, and despite it being mid-afternoon when we left the Vigil, we managed to make good time, continuing well past dark. We’d met up with Oghren and Wulf along the way, so between those two and Aedan, Alistair, Justice/Vander ( _Vustice? Jander? Maybe not_ ), Alim, Zevran, and a reluctant Sigrun, we had eight Wardens, and a large contingent of soldiers accompanying Nathaniel. I hoped that would be enough to take on, presumably, the Architect and whatever forces he’d managed to accumulate since the Dragonbone Wastes.

Having been briefed on the situation – missing Wardens, possible fighting between Rolan and the mages, and a large gathering of darkspawn – no one slept well. Justice kept to himself, just as Vander would have done, and I wondered whether that was by preference or in an effort to avoid making others uncomfortable. Sigrun, understanding that we needed her but upset at having to leave Faren’s care in the hands of servants, also seemed to prefer to be alone, and we all left her to it. The rest of us almost clung together, sleeping in tents pitched close together and walking together in silence. 

We had no idea what we would be walking into, and it was making us jumpy and nervous.

The next day didn’t help; while we started early, we were slowed down by muddy, icy terrain, and the carts carrying food and water kept getting stuck. Full winter had not yet hit Ferelden, but there had been scattered snows and the temperatures had dropped below freezing – where they would likely stay until spring. It was less cold this far north than it would be in the bannorn or down in the Wilds, but between the wet and the cold, ice was inevitable.

Several times during the day, especially as we struggled to free the carts from the muck, we could sense darkspawn at the edges of our range that would disappear rather than engage, putting the Wardens even more on edge. Sensing our urgency, we distributed packs to the soldiers, leaving the supply carts and an escort to follow behind as they were able and Nate ordered the troops to continue as fast as they could travel. Despite our increased speed, we didn’t encounter any darkspawn, and they stayed enough ahead of us that we couldn’t discern their numbers.

We travelled into the evening again, but exhaustion and darkness finally forced us to stop or risk losing soldiers to falls and silly, avoidable injuries. All of us were chafing at the bit, eager to find our fellow Wardens and be done with the Architect and his sentient darkspawn, but we knew overtired troops would not function well once we did engage. Everyone collapsed to their bedrolls after a brief meal of cold rations, and we got moving again as soon as the sun had peeked up over the horizon.

By any estimates we were nearing the Tarcaisne Ridge, and we finally came across some darkspawn, easily eliminating small groups that I assumed were patrolling around wherever the Architect was holed up. Resistance increased the further southwest we went, and by midday our progress had been hampered significantly by multiple small scuffles. None of the groups posed a risk to our large company, but between the fighting and then burning the bodies, it took time, and we had only one mage – Alim – to aid in the latter. By afternoon we were within sight of the great cliffs of the Ridge, and the deep cleft where the road climbed up towards the bannorn.

After staring at the maps and debating briefly with Nathaniel and a few local soldiers, and not wanting to risk either Nate’s scouts or our Wardens, given the number of bands of darkspawn about, we elected to turn left and follow the ridgeline further south and east. The locals assured us there were caves in the cliff to the south, but nothing further north. We’d gone only a few miles before we came across evidence we’d chosen the correct route – and that something far stranger than just darkspawn was at work.

“Commanders! My Lord, Lady,” a breathless soldier from the vanguard shouted to us. “You need to see this!”

Aedan, Alistair, Nate and I followed him, with the rest of the Wardens on our heels. We climbed a small hill, only to stop in shock. Before us lay a battlefield, void of anything living, but covered in a large number of corpses, the ground soaked with blood. The smell – a combination of the sharp, metallic scent of blood and the sickly sweet odour of rot – made me gag, and I fumbled for a handkerchief to cover my nose, not that it helped. My reluctant gaze initially turned away from the bodies, many torn to pieces, some being feasted on by crows and other birds of prey, but after a moment, I looked back in confusion.

There were darkspawn, dozens of bodies bloating in the late afternoon light, their blood black and thick where it had spilled onto the grass and mud, and a large number of soldiers, some of them wearing Amaranthine’s colours and some in the tabards of the Fereldan army. But neither of those were what confused me. What drew my eye, and what I confirmed as I stepped carefully out onto the battlefield almost on autopilot to get a closer look, were a third category of bodies.

“Templars?” Zev asked, rolling over the torso of a corpse that had been ripped clean in half. The armour was familiar, and the associated skirt-thing lay nearby across a set of mangled legs smeared with blood and filth. 

The more I looked, the more confused I became. Some of the templars clearly had darkspawn-related injuries, broken pieces of the poor-quality weapons the darkspawn used jutting out of wounds, and claw marks from shrieks evident. But others had been cut down by more conventional weapons, some still with daggers or short swords embedded in wounds, others with amputations or decapitations that would have been impossible with dull, rusty darkspawn blades.

Scouts and trackers cautiously moved across the battlefield, examining the bodies and the tracks left behind. I hoped that they would learn something useful, but was more than glad that it wasn’t my job – the wide open, dead eyes of so many people would haunt my dreams enough as it was without getting a closer look.

Nate detailed soldiers to begin separating and piling the bodies, while the Wardens began combing through the remains looking for any sign of our missing comrades. “And if there were templars here, it’s possible Solona and Anders made it this far also,” Aedan commented. “I specifically ordered them to wear Warden tabards at all times, so they shouldn’t be difficult to locate if they…”

“Don’t say it,” I whispered. _It’s bad enough we may have lost Conrad, and that one of our own may have been partly responsible. I won’t consider the possibility that Anders and Solona are dead too._

In the end, it took the rest of the afternoon to separate out the bodies. We lit pyres for soldiers and templars, after removing identifying items and recording appearances to be sent to the Grand Cleric later; there were also twenty darkspawn corpses which Alim incinerated. There was no sign of any Wardens, no unrecognisable corpses, no gear, nothing. Mentally and physically exhausted, we made camp upwind of the battlefield, lighting a large bonfire and cooking a warm meal for the first time since leaving the Vigil.

Nate asked to meet with us, and in the end all of the Wardens crowded into his large tent, where several of the scouts and trackers I’d seen on the battlefield waited for us. The nobleman gestured at one of the men, and he cleared his through nervously.

“I’m Bosley, Commanders, one of his Grace’s trackers.”

Aedan nodded firmly. “What did you determine, Bosley?”

The man hesitated briefly, looking back at his fellows before clearing his throat again. “Can’t say for certain, o’ course, but it looks…it looks like the templars killed five soldiers, and even piled the bodies, but then a day or so later, the templars were attacked by the rest of the soldiers. The templars had even surrendered, I think – some of them had their hands bound. But then they were all attacked by darkspawn. ‘Bout a day ago, maybe a bit more. All told, there were thirty-four soldiers, and half as many templars. ‘Bout fifteen horses, but I think some might have run off during the fighting. From what I could see, none of the templars or soldiers escaped. But…”

He trailed off, and Aedan gestured to him, a reassuring expression on his face. “Yes?”

“There were drag marks, my Lord. Darkspawn tracks away from the battle, and they were dragging some things behind them when they went. Could have been injured darkspawn, but…”

“Could have been Grey Wardens.” Aedan frowned.

Bosley nodded. “At least two, maybe more.”

Aedan turned to me. “How many soldiers in each patrol?”

“Fifteen,” I replied. Each of the Grey Wardens had been travelling with escorts, and Nate had allotted sixty to split between the four patrols. The math – more than thirty soldiers, or two patrols’ worth, made my stomach plummet. “And Solona and Anders had five.” They’d been travelling light, by horseback, hoping to make it to the Circle and back quickly.

Alistair winced. “So all of both patrols, and all of the mages’ escorts, are dead.”

“Minus one,” Aedan mused. “A messenger who didn’t make it? Or another captive?”

“And the darkspawn probably have four Wardens.” _Or at least their bodies._ I didn’t say it, hoping that if I didn’t acknowledge it, it wasn’t real. “That’s a lot of Warden blood.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Aedan’s scowl was grim and almost feral. “We’ll kill the Architect, kill his darkspawn, and it won’t matter how much blood he managed to drain.”

Alistair, with nothing else left to do, was staring at the assortment of items that had been taken off the templars’ bodies, shoved in a crate in Nate’s tent. Where in the hell have all these templars even come from? Alistair was clearly thinking along the same lines; he shoved aside the box and sighed. “What, by the Maker’s hairy arsehole, happened here?”

***

We took the night to rest and prepare before following the tracks from the battlefield towards the cliffs. Closer up, the cliffs looked more like mud and less like rock, but they were dotted liberally with small openings, often half-hidden behind low, scrubby bushes or protruding boulders. The tracks were clear enough even for me to see, and led straight to the largest opening we could find right at the base of the cliff. On closer inspection, the opening had been haphazardly shored up with branches and rotting planks, and it made me wonder how big a risk mudslides and tunnel collapse would really be inside.

“Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, not follow directly behind them? Find some other way to sneak up on them?” I looked at Alistair in surprise. _He has a point._ “I’m surprised I’m the one bringing this up…”

Aedan shook his head, even as Zevran nodded hesitantly. “We don’t have time. We can’t let him escape again. Not to mention, any of the Wardens could be injured. It could take days or longer to try different tunnels and hope they connect. We’re just going to have to go in and overwhelm them.”

“And if they outnumber us?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Terrific,” I muttered. “Oh, don’t even think about it, Aedan.” My brother was giving me the puppy-dog eyes, clearly hoping I’d stay outside. Alistair smirked. “I’m going in first, obviously.”

I held my hand up to silence the barrage of objections that statement brought. “I’ll be right back.”

_They know I’m right, even if they don’t like it._ I’d spent hours while travelling convincing Avanna, my bodyguard, that she would have to let me go ahead alone when we reached the darkspawn; there was no way I was putting her at risk of being taken and made into the next Broodmother. I’d ordered her to stay outside with those guarding the tunnel, no matter what. She was even less happy about it than Aedan, from the look on her face. I went up on tiptoes and kissed Alistair all-too-briefly, and then turned to the intimidating entrance with a deep breath and, squaring my shoulders, went inside.

The light from the door didn’t illuminate very far inside, and it wasn’t long before I was running my left hand along the wall, creeping forward blindly in the dark. It was awful; it felt like I was lost, but at the same time I could feel the weight of the mountain above me pressing down. The sensation of the taint was strong, like in the Deep Roads, obscuring my ability to sense whether there were darkspawn around. My mind started playing tricks on me, and I got startled at imaginary flashes of light or the perception of being followed more than once, pressing my back against the wall and gripping my daggers too tightly until the feeling passed. The tomb-like quiet wasn’t helping my nerves either, every step or scrape of my own armour making me twitch. The tunnel twisted and turned randomly without branching, but all the time led down, deeper and deeper underground. 

I progressed forward slowly for some time without being able to see, my fear and paranoia mounting the further I went; I was on the verge of deciding to turn around and go back for a torch when I realised I could see a very faint glow ahead. I tried to sneak as silently as I was able, feeling enormously relieved when then tunnel opened into a section of Deep Roads. The lava channels were still flowing, providing reddish light and almost oppressive heat; I was wearing layers underneath and overtop of my armour, given the wintery chill outside, but I didn’t dare try to strip off, alone as I was. 

The section of the Roads I was in was obviously very old, the statuary and railings crumbling, the floor broken apart and covered in dirt and dust, but it still didn’t totally take away from the obvious former grandeur of the place. The ceilings were high, like I was used to; the section of road – before it ended at a massive collapse – was ruler-straight and close to twenty feet wide. There were doors leading off each side, as well as two large irregular gaping holes in the walls that I assumed were either made by crosscut drifters or darkspawn.

And I wasn’t alone. Each door had two darkspawn sitting or standing nearby, and small groups gathered in each opening. Another, larger group gathered in the middle of the road segment, around what was obviously one of the Architect’s sentient darkspawn. It wore armour, not the patched, scavenged junk most darkspawn had but an actual set of mail with a helmet, and it carried a maul that even Sten might have had a hard time wielding. The rest of the darkspawn were far less-well geared, but there were probably fifteen of them, in addition to the twenty more who guarded exits.

The tunnel I’d come out of was the only unguarded opening, and the large central group of darkspawn faced it expectantly. _They know we’re here._ I looked closer at each doorway and the two guarded tunnels, but the Architect had been clever; the doors were closed and me opening one would not have gone unnoticed, even if the darkspawn couldn’t see me, and the groups gathered in the two larger tunnels had spread out, a wall of darkspawn spanning each one, with no room for me to slip past.

I resisted the urge to swear, and after fixing numbers in my head, headed back to the surface to let everyone know what we would face. The trip back took much less time than the trip down, knowing that the way was clear, the floor stable, and nothing awaited me in the darkness. However, still unable to see, I again trailed my left hand along the wall to guide me.

And it was a good thing I did, otherwise I’d never have noticed the small, peculiar area along the wall that I couldn’t see in the dark.

It felt sort of like abruptly plunging my hand into cold water – without getting wet, somehow, yet leaving me feeling slimy – or perhaps like that feeling when you sit on your foot and it falls asleep, only to have pins and needles when it wakes up. It wasn’t painful, exactly, but it was very uncomfortable, though I hadn’t done anything but touch the wall lightly. I was so surprised that I’d taken three steps past it before I realised something was there. I backed up and ran my hand over the spot again with the same results; I changed hands, and could feel it with both. I checked the opposite wall and found nothing – explaining why I hadn’t noticed it on the way in. I sheathed my daggers, took off both gauntlets, and explored the wall with both hands, discovering that the sensation spanned about three feet of wall, extended from the floor to above my reach, and that the wall itself – other than the strange sensation – was smooth and felt no different to my fingertips than the rest of the tunnel.

Satisfied that I’d learned all I could about the area alone and in the dark, I put my gauntlets back on and continued to walk back to the surface where I was sure my husband and brother were probably losing their minds with worry. I counted the steps to make sure I could find the strange spot again, I almost ran the last few feet once I could see the light of the entrance again, and I nearly bowled Alistair over in my rush to throw myself into his arms. He held me silently for a brief moment, pressing kisses to my forehead, before I finally pulled myself together and turned back to face Aedan, Nate, and the rest of the Wardens.

“It’s not good news. The tunnel stays narrow and dark all the way down, and there’s an ambush waiting at the bottom.” I briefly described the segment of Deep Roads and its inhabitants. “But…I think, well, I’m not sure. There’s something…” I trailed off, and saw everyone looking at me strangely. I sighed. “Sorry. I can’t be sure. But a hundred or so paces down, on the right-hand side…I think there’s a magically concealed door. Is that a thing?”

Laughing at my awkwardness, Alistair gestured to Alim, who stepped up and nodded. “There are various ways to conceal things with magic, but also barriers that would block a door. What makes you think it’s there?”

I described the sensation as best I could. “I’m assuming it was the templar thing, kind of like when I can sense the spells you cast. Not sure. It’s a really weird feeling, though.”

“Sounds like maybe an illusion ward? I’ve read about them, but never seen one. That’s Tevinter magic. I can’t say whether I can break it until I can see it.”

“Well, let’s grab a torch and go, then. It’s not close enough for the darkspawn to see the light, and I can show you where I found it.”

“You’re not going alone,” Avanna growled, and Aedan nodded. 

“They can’t sense you, but they can sense Alim. They might be waiting on the other side of that door! I’m coming with,” Alistair declared.

“We’ll split in half,” Aedan decided with a nod. “Tunnel’s not wide enough to take a bunch of soldiers. I’ll come back once we figure out that door.”

“You can’t both go,” Nate cut in. “You’d leave the Wardens without a Commander if something went wrong, or we were attacked out here.”

Aedan swore, though I didn’t miss the look of guilty relief on Zevran’s face when he agreed to wait with the others. Quickly Alistair, Wulf, and Sigrun dropped their packs and drew weapons, leaving Oghren, Justice, Aedan, and Zevran reluctantly outside as ‘backup’. I hugged Aedan and Zev, assuring them we’d be fine, and then stepped into the tunnel entrance with Alistair on my heels.

I carried one of the arcane lamps Aedan had cleverly thought to bring from Soldier’s Peak, and Wulf carried a normal torch at the back. I trailed my right hand along the wall and counted steps as I led my four compatriots down the twisting tunnel, surprised to find that the feeling of paranoia and nervousness wasn’t much better with the addition of the light. The others felt it too, Alistair reaching out to touch my shoulder or back every few steps, and Alim clearing his throat nervously behind him. 

Before long, Alim whispered “Stop.”

I did. “What?” I asked quietly, turning anxiously.

The mage looked jittery, gripping his staff with shaking hands. “Just…do you know how to cleanse?” he asked us.

Looking confused, my husband nodded. “Something wrong?”

“Just…do it. Do a cleanse.”

“Won’t that hurt you?” I objected. 

Alim shook his head at the same time as Alistair responded, “Not a smite. Cleanse doesn’t hurt.”

Looking from Alim to me, Alistair shrugged, closed his eyes, held his arms out from his body slightly, and clenched his hands. I flinched in anticipation, expecting to feel a pressure wave or my ears pop or…something, but nothing happened. Well, nothing physical, but it took only a moment to realise that the oppressive aura that had been making my heart pound and my hands sweat was suddenly just…gone.

I turned to Alim, eyes wide, and the elf just nodded smugly. “That’s better.”

“Explain?” I demanded a little too loudly, and Alistair chuckled, shushing me.

“A simple repellant,” the mage informed me. “There’s a couple of wards overlapping here that cause nervousness. I’m thinking the whole tunnel is lined with them. It keeps unwanted visitors away – lots of apostates use them to discourage nosy neighbours, or so Anders once told me. I imagine this one was meant to disorient and distract us, rather than keep us away – nervous soldiers soiling their breeches don’t fight very effectively.”

“Nor do they notice concealed doors,” Wulf added with a small laugh.

I rubbed my face irritably. “Wish I’d known that the first time.” I sighed. “How far does your cleanse extend?” I asked Alistair. 

He hummed. “Maybe forty feet, give or take? I can do it again if needed.”

“Alright, well…damn, now I’ve lost count. Anyhow, we must be close. Follow me.”

Now far less jumpy, I led the group confidently around another couple of turns when I felt my fingers tingle, and I stopped. “Here.” I ran my gloved fingers over the wall, confirming what I remembered of the strange area. I was somehow surprised to see that it didn’t even look different than the dirt of the surrounding tunnel; I’d expected, for some reason, that the illusion would be easy to spot in the light.

Alim stepped forward and touched the wall with a frown. “I don’t feel anything.” He muttered something under his breath, and I sensed his magic flare, but nothing happened.

Alistair touched the wall as well, and then took off his gauntlets and tried again. “It feels…oily.” He nodded at me. “Not enough that I’d have noticed it if I wasn’t looking for it.”

I touched the wall again, screwing up my face against the tingling sensation. “It’s a lot worse than oily for me.”

Alim scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “Try the cleanse?” he suggested. “It’s not a barrier, so I can’t do anything about it, but if it’s a glyph like the others…”

Alistair closed his eyes again with a nod, and I jumped slightly as I felt the tingling sensation skitter and change where my fingers rested on the wall. “Oooh.”

“What? Oooh what?”

“It’s…less strong now. Less annoying.” I took off my own gauntlets and pressed both hands against the wall.

“A lot less strong? Or only a little?”

“A little. Can you do it again?”

He sighed. “Maybe once or twice. I’ll have to try.”

“Why don’t you do it?” Alim suggested to me. “You’ve got the higher resistance, right?”

“I don’t know how.” I flushed, embarrassed to admit it. “We’ve never managed enough time to train the basic techniques. I know how to do the things I can do really well, but none of the rest.”

“What if we work together?” Alistair asked. “Like you showing me how to make shields or hold mana? Maybe if I do it one more time, and we work together, you can learn. It isn’t a technique we ever even tried before. It might work.”

I shrugged helplessly. “I’ll give it a try, if you think I can. It’s not like we have much choice – the other alternative is to get killed one at a time as we push through the tunnel. I’d rather not.” No pressure!

“Alim, you’d better head back,” Alistair recommended. “If we do something wrong…I wouldn’t want a mage nearby.”

The elf nodded, then took my arcane lamp and trotted back up the tunnel towards Aedan and the others. We waited a few moments for him to be good and far away, and then I turned back to my husband uncertainly. “What if we can’t…?”

“We can.” He seemed absolutely certain. I was less secure in my abilities, and he sounded somewhat tired already. “Come here.”

He held out his arms, and I stepped into them, ignoring our armour as I tried to get as close as I could. He lifted off both of our helmets and pressed a kiss to my forehead, wrapping his arms around me.

Wulf cleared his throat and walked a few feet up the tunnel until he hit a curve; close enough to hear, but giving us a bit of privacy. _I keep forgetting people here aren’t so used to PDA._ Alistair squeezed me slightly to get my attention, obviously predicting my wandering mind.

“It doesn’t matter how you hold your arms, your posture, whether your eyes are open or closed. You know that feeling, when you can sense a mage when they’re casting?” I nodded. “I want you to concentrate on that sensation, and then try to push it away. Even in the air around us there’s a little bit of that feeling. Focus on it, and let me know when you’re ready to try.”

I pressed my face to his neck, his comforting smell calming me, and then closed my eyes. I cast my feelings out around me, trying to feel what Alistair was talking about; _do all things in Thedas have magic? Or is it like the Force, from Star Wars – little sparks that were in us and all around us?_ I sighed as I realised I was thinking, not feeling, and tried again. I cleared my mind and felt around me, using the by now rusty skills Alistair had tried to teach me back when he’d been training me to be a templar. 

Suddenly I felt…something. Being close to Alistair should have been distracting, but I had achieved my inner calm faster like this, and I could sense something all around us, like a low-pitched noise you could only barely sense at the edge of your hearing. _Or maybe I’m imagining it because I want this to work._ It didn’t matter; we needed to try.

I nodded. Alistair, feeling my movement, whispered softly into my hair, “Okay, now push it all away. On the count of three, just push the magic away.

“One, two, three.”

I shoved, or at least I tried to. It felt like trying to scoop water with a sieve. Everything I tried to push slipped through the holes, resisting my effort, even as I felt some of it flowing past me, receding away from Alistair like a concussion wave. After a moment, when I concentrated, the area we stood in had less of the sensation, and I could feel the distant tsunami weakening the further it got from us.

“Oh! Oh.” I hugged Alistair tightly. “I felt you do it. I did it wrong, though.”

I explained the feeling of it slipping through my fingers, and he nodded. “It’s like when you swim,” he explained, his voice sounding slightly fuzzy – like when he was half asleep in bed at night. “Keep your fingers tightly together. Except these are figurative fingers, inside your mind. Sort of.”

I giggled, and he huffed. “You know what I mean.”

“Are you okay?” His huffing might have been a mock complaint, but it hadn’t escaped my notice that he was actually slightly out of breath.

“Just tired,” he assured me. “It’s like going for a run after being laid up in bed for a while. I haven’t been practicing this lately, and I’m out of shape.”

I reached out to touch the door, confirming that the tingling sensation was weaker again. Not gone, but weaker.

“Think we can try again? It seems to work better for me when I’m close to you like this.”

“Right, so that’s the excuse you’re going with?” he teased. “Cuddle-cleansing wasn’t a technique I learned in templar training, I’ll have you know.”

I pinched his earlobe, and he gasped out a laugh. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Perish the thought,” he chuckled, as he had every time I’d ever accused him of teasing, and I wrinkled my nose at him in mock irritation. He kissed the end of the scrunched-up button, and then pulled me closer again. “Alright, now, concentrate.”

I closed my eyes again, and the sensation came back more quickly this time as I cuddled close. “Okay.”

“One, two three,” he counted again.

I clenched my jaw and my fists, took a deep breath, and _pushed_.


	143. Cuddle Cleansing

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Three: Cuddle Cleanse

My second effort at cleansing an area of magic went better. The tsunami Alistair set off was weaker than his previous attempt, but mine matched it. I crowed happily as I felt the magic around me recede. 

My attention was drawn away from my pride when Alistair sagged in my arms. “Alistair!”

“M’fine,” he mumbled. He hadn’t actually fallen, but it was a close thing, from what I could tell. I shifted my grip from his neck to his waist, shoving my shoulder up into his armpit to brace him in case he went over. He grunted an objection, but it didn’t stop him from resting his arm heavily across my shoulders. “Just need a minute.”

Wulf scampered back towards us, and together we helped Alistair ease to the ground, his dragon-bone armour creaking as he settled down, sitting with his legs extended, leaning back on his arms. I fussed over him, brushing his forehead with my hand and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. Wulf offered him a water skin, and he drank deeply.

“Did we do it?” he asked.

I frowned, concentrating. The area around us was so devoid of magic that suddenly, when I paid attention, I could feel the tingling sensation – the one I got in my hand when I touched the nearby ward – without even reaching out my hand. It was as if that section of wall was glowing to my internal templar ‘sight’, the way a mage did when they gathered their mana to cast a spell.

“Not quite.” I confirmed my impression with my hand, the tingling now muted again but still present. “Almost, though.”

“Well, I’m out,” he informed me – needlessly, as it was quite apparent by the pallor of his complexion.

“I’ll try again. I’m not exhausted yet. Don’t know if I can do it alone, though.”

“You can. You’re much stronger than I am at this. You can do it.” He reached up and squeezed my hand encouragingly.

I turned away, looking at the section of wall curiously, trying to ‘examine’ the magic holding the illusion. All I could sense was magic; I supposed it would take a mage – the one who’d casted the ward, presumably – to be able to sense the purpose of it.

I could feel Wulf’s and Alistair’s gazes on my back, and sighed. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the magic around me one more time. 

Only to frown. There wasn’t enough magic left in the environment for me to feel like I had a good ‘grip’ in order to push it away. The repeated cleanses left me without anything to focus on. I tried, and tried again, with no results. I growled, and a hand grasped my own where I was clenching so hard my nails dug into my palm.

“Steady. Come here.” Alistair tugged at my hand until I complied, kneeling at his side and allowing myself to be dragged into his lap. “Relax. Breathe. You’ve got this.”

“Cuddle cleanse?” I asked, one eyebrow raised, and he nodded with a grin. He kissed my temple as I sighed and leaned against the hardness of his armour, closing my eyes again.

After a moment of searching, the only thing I could feel was the ward – and that gave me a thought. Instead of trying to grip all of the magic around me, I fixated on just that section – the glowing magic embedded in the wall in front of me. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, clenched, and shoved – harder than I’d ever pushed before, the effort feeling like I was trying to bench-press a mountain, leaving me breathless.

The magic scattered, like leaves blown in hurricane-force winds. I could almost physically feel the shockwave of the magic failing, and heard Wulf yelp behind me. When I opened my eyes, the section of what had previously looked like blank wall was now discoloured and warped – wood, I realised when I stood up and touched it with my hand, hastily nailed together and propped across the entrance to what was obviously a side tunnel.

I heard Alistair lumber to his feet, and he enveloped me in a hug from behind, his arms wrapping around my waist and his chin resting awkwardly on my shoulder. I glanced over at him to see a huge, proud grin on his handsome face. “Told you,” he crowed. “I knew you could do it. Good job, Love.”

I flushed. “Now we get to find out whether this was worth all the effort.”

Separating ourselves, Wulf and I drew our weapons as Alistair stepped up to the wooden covering. “Are you sure…” I asked.

“This I can do,” he assured me. “It’s my mind – my templar muscles – that are tired, not my arms.”

I wasn’t convinced – it wasn’t his mind that had needed to sit down, and I myself felt more than a little fatigued – but his pallor had improved and he winked at me cheekily. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

Wulf stepped back, blurring into the shadows, and at my nod, Alistair grabbed the wooden plank and shoved. It slid aside with a scraping noise that made me wince, but after a moment, nothing happened – no darkspawn appeared, no shouts or growls echoed from down the passageway – and I let out the breath I hadn’t even realised I’d held. I nodded at Alistair and slipped first through the opening, relieved to see it was a short hallway that opened into a larger, lit room – _no more wandering through pitch-dark corridors for me!_ I stepped as quietly as I could to the threshold and then peeked around the corner anxiously.

And then I gasped, taking another step forward, mouth agape in complete shock.

“Trevian?” My pitch rose with my surprise so I almost squeaked the last syllable.

The dwarf in question, sitting in the middle of a large room with a bandage wrapped around his head and one eye patched, was surrounded by a dozen or so of the missing Legionnaires. There were several with obvious injuries, from bruises and scrapes to bandaged extremities still oozing blood. Darkspawn corpses were piled against one wall, and a rough pile of rocks opposite indicated they’d returned at least one Legionnaire to the stone. Two relatively healthy-looking dwarves stood guard at the only other door, axes drawn, scowls directed at the wooden barrier between them and whatever lay beyond – but they were leaning against the wall and talking quietly, clearly not really expecting anything to try to come through.

The leader staggered to his feet at my voice, his hand clutching his chest as he panted in shock, a stream of dwarven obscenities flowing out of his mouth. “Sierra? Ancestor’s sodding hairy arses, where the void did you come from?”

I gestured behind me, where Alistair and Wulf were emerging from the short corridor, obviously drawn by my exclamation. Their expressions were comical, eyes bugging out at the sight of our missing allies; Trevian’s bafflement was no less expressive. I almost giggled.

“Commander! Where...that is, I mean…how?” The poor dwarf appeared completely gobsmacked, and I didn’t think he could get any paler; I took his arm and urged him to sit back down before the poor man fainted.

“How did you get here?” I asked when his complexion returned to normal.

“No, no, you first. If you’re not a mage, how did you create a passageway out of pure rock?”

I frowned, trying to understand what he meant. And then it occurred to me. “Oh! The illusion worked on this side too!” Trevian scowled in confusion, so I explained, “There was a passage there hidden by magic. We didn’t create the passage, we just found it by dispelling the magic.”

“Well that would have been sodding nice to know!” He almost growled with frustration. “We followed a darkspawn patrol down a narrow passage, assuming we would find an emissary or one of those sentient darkspawn; we hit heavy resistance, and retreated slowly through that door,” he nodded at the guarded exit, “because we could bottleneck them and they couldn’t overwhelm us. Only to find ourselves trapped with no way out. We held out for a while, hopeless, but then all of a sudden, the darkspawn…they stopped attacking. Started ignoring us entirely. Withdrew to where we can’t see them anymore. They’re still out there, but leaving us alone – except we couldn’t get out. We’ve been trapped down here for four days.

“Earlier today, with our water running out, we decided to try to escape. It didn’t go well.” He gestured to the bandages on his head and the grave against the far wall. “I had hoped maybe they’d ignore us entirely, the way they’ve been doing for a while. No luck – they fought us back, and we had to retreat. Now they’ve pulled back again. Apparently they’ll ignore us unless we try to leave.”

“Well, there’s a way out now,” Alistair informed them. “The whole army is outside. It’s no simple emissary down here – unless I miss my guess, this is all the Architect’s doing.”

“He does seem to want to minimize bloodshed – I could see him ordering the darkspawn not to attack – but he couldn’t let you leave to bring us warning either. So he had them back you into here and hid the backdoor,” I agreed.

“It gives us an opportunity,” Wulf suggested, his grin feral. “You know the layout of this place? What’s beyond that door?” 

Trevian nodded. “Not the whole section of Deep Roads, but the immediate area outside that door, sure.”

“Then we have a way around that ambush. They’re counting on us only being able to come through that main tunnel one at a time – easy pickings. We could defend a retreat easily, sure, but we wouldn’t be able to make much progress. But if we can come at them from behind, with a larger, organised front…” 

“Come,” I urged Trevian, pulling gently on his arm. “Nate and Aedan need to hear this. And we’ve got supplies outside.”

“Someone’s got to stay here, guard the door and the hallway,” he objected.

“I’ll stay in the hallway,” Wulf offered. “I see quite well in the dark, I won’t need a torch. If two stay here, and one other with me, we have someone to defend each spot and someone to run for help.”

Trevian detailed three of the least injured Legionnaires to stay, two remaining at the wooden door and one joining Wulf out in the hall. We left our water skins and what little supplies we had – healing poultices and rations – with those remaining, knowing we could help the injured dwarves on the surface. Alistair and I escorted Trevian and the remainder of the dwarves up the long hallway, some of them being half-carried by less-injured colleagues. It was slow going, Alistair having to help Trevian when he flagged as I led the way with the torch. We finally emerged out into the bright midday sunlight, to the amazed and excited exclamations of those waiting for us outside.

Aedan’s shocked face when I was followed first by one injured dwarf, and then another and another as we exited the tunnel was hilarious, and I wished I could have taken a picture. I giggled and went to him for a hug, while he just stared, speechless.

Fortunately the others, while also shocked, were a little less stunned about the whole thing, and soon all the dwarves had been given water, food, healing poultices, and the worst injuries had been attended to by Alim, whose healing wasn’t epic but was improving almost daily since his Joining. Sigrun greeted each of the returning Legionnaires with glee, relief obvious in her sweet expression.

Finally Aedan, Nate, Alistair and I crouched down together near Trevian, whose head had been healed, but who had apparently lost the eye. He looked rather pirate-like in the eye patch someone had scrabbled together from some dark fabric, and I told him so; he snickered, but his chest puffed out a little and he stopped fidgeting with the patch, to my amusement.

“We sent you with a vain hope you’d find a way around the ambush, and instead you came back with an entire Legion.” Aedan smirked at me.

Alistair and I laughed. “We’ve done both, actually, brother.”

Trevian filled Aedan and Nate in how they’d become trapped with no way out until we managed to cleanse the illusion hiding the backdoor. And then he started to draw in the dirt with a twig he picked up from the ground.

“Here’s the room we were in,” he began, “and outside the door…”

He drew us a fairly detailed map of the warren of tunnels underneath the cliff, with one large room leading back to where the ambush waited for us at the bottom of the main passage.

“So we can assemble a larger group here,” Aedan pointed, “without being seen, we think.” Trevian nodded. “And then we can either draw some of them to us, if we get lucky, or if not, at least approach with larger numbers from here.” He indicated the room adjacent to the large, dark hole I’d described from my view; I knew at least five soldiers could fit side by side in the opening, as opposed to the one or two in the main tunnel. _Good for defending a retreat, that tunnel; not so good for springing a trap._

“’Spawn will probably think it’s us again, trying another escape attempt. They’ll send a small group in if we make noise,” Trevian suggested. 

“What’s down that way?” Alistair asked, pointing to the multiple guarded doors and the other opening I’d seen.

“No idea.” Trevian grunted. “Didn’t get that far.”

“Alright.” Aedan nodded and turned to Nathaniel. “We’re going to need to defend the tunnel leading outside, and each room behind us in case there are more secret doors. Like with the Mother – can you detail a small group of soldiers to stay in each room as we clear them? A small force should wait in the main tunnel until we attack and hit them from the side. The rest will move forward with us, Wardens first. No way to know how many rooms there are down there.”

Nate nodded and began giving orders to his captains; Aedan pulled all the Wardens into a huddle and briefed them on what we’d found. 

“You’re not leaving us out,” Trevian interjected as Aedan detailed his strategy. “Most of us are healed up enough to fight.” The dwarf’s dark hair was still matted with his own blood, his eye still patched; the rest of the Legion stood behind him where he gazed at us, arms crossed obstinately, undamaged eye unblinking. _No chance we’re talking him out of that, obviously._

Aedan had clearly come to the same conclusion. He sighed, signalled Trevian to come closer, and detailed the Legionnaires to follow behind the Wardens as we began clearing tunnels.

Soon, packs in place and weapons drawn, I led the way down the passageway to the side tunnel. A small group of soldiers replaced Wulf and the dwarf on watch with him, and they joined us in the room the Legion had been ‘trapped’ in. We waited there until everyone who could fit was assembled, the rest waiting out in the hallway behind, and then, expression serious, Alistair opened the heavy wooden door allowing Trevian and I to step through.

I went first for obvious reasons – I could scout the darkspawn without being seen – but Trevian insisting on accompanying me made me nervous. I felt…exposed. _If there are any darkspawn near here, we’re toast._ I’d tried to talk him out of it, but Aedan and Alistair were more than a little relieved I wouldn’t be going alone – _traitors!_ – and without support, there was no dissuading the grizzled dwarf. I wondered if he actually had some sort of death wish, but didn’t want to deal with the outcome of that conversation if I was right, so I kept the question to myself.

Trevian’s drawing had been accurate; I slowly explored a small warren of rooms before coming to the one large chamber we’d planned to use to launch our offensive on the darkspawn. I trailed my hand along the walls as we walked, not really expecting anything but curious if there would be more secret passageways. I found nothing.

I signalled to Trevian to stay, and went on alone around the corner into the wide, rough hole that led to the rear of the darkspawn ambush. The numbers of darkspawn were unchanged; I couldn’t get all the way into the main room due to the five darkspawn blocking the entrance to the hallway I was in, but over their heads – thank goodness genlocks are short! – I quickly confirmed about three dozen darkspawn, most spread out through the room, but a large group in the middle all together. None of them were emissaries.

I scooted back out before Trevian got impatient and came after me; he insisted upon staying there to guard the entrance while I went back to confirm for the others that the Wardens could assemble if we could do it quietly. And then, carefully, quietly, one or two at a time, the Wardens slipped into place, followed by the Legion, and then soldiers began assembling. We had ten Wardens – including me! – as well as ten Legionnaires and a handful soldiers in place before the combined noise was too much. We could hear the snarling of darkspawn as they started towards us; Zevran, Wulf, and I waited off to the sides while the rest of the group prepared for a frontal assault.

The opening of the combat was almost comical. A bare dozen darkspawn came careening around the corner, clearly expecting a small number of injured dwarves trying to escape; they screeched to a halt when they were confronted with a much larger force that was still growing. There was some shocked backpedaling as they tried to stay in the narrower tunnel opening to avoid being flanked, only to discover, as the Wardens bore down on them, that Zevran, Wulf, and I had slipped behind them. The assassin and former werewolf began disabling darkspawn with kidney shots and slices to the backs of the legs, while I reached around a genlock in front of me to slit its throat. The entire combat lasted mere moments, and only a small handful of us even got our blades dirty.

What we couldn’t prevent, however, were the screeches of the dying darkspawn as they fell. Knowing that the darkspawn in the next room would be preparing, Alistair ordered everyone to move forward en masse, shield-bearing warriors in front with the rest of us close on their heels as we progressed into the chamber where the ambush waited for us. Arrows began pinging off of shields the moment we were visible from the main room, but it was obvious that, as intended, we’d caught the darkspawn by surprise. The two dozen or so remaining darkspawn had been supplemented by a handful of others, presumably from adjacent rooms, but they hadn’t completely reorganised to meet this new attack and we caught them somewhat flatfooted. 

The warriors engaged, the soldiers and dwarves spilling out of the tunnel’s mouth, and I scooted around the back of the room to start killing archers before they got in any lucky shots. With a roar another dozen soldiers came through the main tunnel to hit the disorganised flank of the ‘spawn. Soon the room was full to bursting with our forces, and not a single genlock remained alive to oppose us.

We took a few minutes to regroup; there were a handful of wounded men, two of whom would need to be put through the Joining later, judging by the black ichor that had contaminated their wounds; Nate sent them up to the surface while his men secured every room we’d taken so far. We now had five doors and one conspicuous dark tunnel to search.

The Wardens split into five groups of two, each group assigned to a door with a group of eight soldiers; the Legion would defend the large unexplored tunnel while we cleared the side rooms and the rest of the soldiers would wait to be called if needed. Trevian objected to the Legion being made to guard, rather than allowing them to come with us, but Aedan and Alistair stood firm and he finally relented. Larger groups wouldn’t be useful, they insisted, in the likely narrow, winding corridors we were likely to face.

Alistair and I went together, and after a quick nod to the other Wardens, my husband kicked in a flimsy wooden door and stepped inside with his shield raised. Behind me I could hear other doors being opened, including two heavy stone doors slowly creaking open. I took a quick breath, closing my eyes and briefly praying for the safe return of everyone disappearing into dark corridors.

I followed him into a small empty room; there were piles of refuse, half-burnt, and a second door leading further in. The precise corners and square rooms confirmed they were of dwarven origin, not darkspawn-dug. We went through that door into a hallway with what must have been a barracks of some sort, hundreds of years before, off to the left; there were the remains of what once were bunkbeds, and old destroyed crates that had been pushed to the walls. We continued down the hallway through another door, then another, through what I assumed had been a functional guard station at some point. There were storage closets, more barracks, and offices, all full of decayed or destroyed furniture. Alistair and I finally had to separate when we came to an intersection; half of the soldiers followed him to the right, and the others followed me to the left.

I led my group past a few more abandoned rooms, finding nothing; we came to a dead end in a room with a large training arena, and turned to head back towards Alistair. I left half of my soldiers – two of them – in the hall where I’d last seen Alistair, and took the other two with me to find my husband. 

I wandered past a similar bunch of rooms, more offices and closets, and found a long hallway with what must have been private officer living quarters. The doors were open, the rooms empty, and we kept going. There was one larger chamber with fresh darkspawn corpses, and when I stepped into the next hallway, I could hear steel crashing against steel – fighting! Worried about my husband with only two soldiers of his own, I rushed down the hallway, daggers in hands, ignoring the side rooms he had obviously cleared on his way.

I ran through an open doorway just in time to see Alistair take a shield to the face; he rebounded away from a hurlock with a rather impressive tower shield, and fell to the floor. The soldiers with him were back to back desperately fighting a group of three genlocks. With a cry, I leapt over Alistair’s prone form, ducking down and around the hurlock who was going in for the kill; I dug one of my daggers into his armpit and, when he reared back with a scream, I slashed at his exposed neck with the other. Black blood spurted out of the wound as I yanked my dagger back, and it sank to the ground clutching its ruined neck. I glanced at the soldiers – who’d been rescued by the two following me, and were fine – and then quickly dropped to the ground at Alistair’s side.

He was conscious, his hands working to push off his dented helmet; his face bore an angry red patch on one cheek that would bruise impressively later. “Void take it, I liked that helmet,” he whined, and I laughed, wrapping my arms around him as he slowly sat up. 

“Are you dizzy, Love?”

“I’m okay. Skull’s too thick to hurt me,” he joked, and I giggled, the verging hysteria ebbing as it became clear he really was fine. “Nice job, by the way, Lady Theirin.” He nodded to the dead hurlock.

I grinned. “Knew those hours of training would be good for something.” I scrambled to my feet and held out my hand. “Need a hand up?”

When all of us were up, after a quick survey of the soldiers to make sure no one was too badly injured, we turned as a group to head further down the hallway. We turned a sharp corner to see a steep flight of steps leading down. I went first, Alistair and the four soldiers on my heels, but I’d gone only halfway down when I heard more sounds of fighting.

“Think this meets up with the door Alim and Justice went through?” I wondered aloud as I signalled everyone to be careful, and then hurried down the rest of the stairs.

“Who knows?” Alistair puffed as he rushed behind me. “Honestly, I’ve lost my sense of direction – we could be right outside Bownammar for all I could tell.”

“At least you’ve still got your pants, dear,” I laughed softly and turned at the bottom of the stairs, a thick wooden door in front of me blocking my progress. Making sure Alistair and the others were ready, I reached out and pulled the door open, allowing the seven men to precede me into the room beyond.

I followed behind, and then stopped, stunned. There were probably a dozen darkspawn corpses, some still twitching, scattered around a room that held a couple of rough tables with chairs, some weapon racks, and little else. It was a blood bath. Black ichor dripped down the walls and off the chairs, entrails and other unidentified remains puddled under the tables, and in the middle of the mess stood two absolutely filthy, blood-spattered Wardens I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again.

Conrad and Rolan.


	144. Come Here Often

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Four: Come Here Often?

 

“Wait, what?” I stammered. Rolan and Conrad, two Wardens I’d believed taken by the darkspawn, probably dead, stood in front of me covered in darkspawn blood.

Conrad shot me a tired smirk. “Well hello there. Come here often?”

I laughed. It was so absurd that I couldn’t ask even one of the million questions that were currently jockeying for position in my head. Alistair’s shocked expression mimicked mine, and the soldiers stood back uncertainly, waiting for us to take the lead.

“What’s a nice place like this doing with a guy like you?” Alistair deadpanned, and I lost it. I slid to my knees, dropping my daggers and covering my face with my hands as I giggled hysterically. 

There’s just been one shock too many. Between the horrific battlefield outside, the worrying presence of the templars, the missing Wardens, finding the Legion, Alistair almost collapsing…and then two Wardens who I’d feared dead standing there joking with us…. I lost it. It was just too much to handle. A few annoying tears trickled down my cheek, and I swiped at them irritably, uncertain whether I’d laughed till I cried, or cried till I laughed.

Alistair put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, and when I looked up Conrad was holding out a hand with a kind smile. “I’d hug you, but…” He gestured down at himself, covered in darkspawn gore, and I shuddered.

“Raincheck,” I muttered, squeezing his hand and using the support to climb to my feet. “I just can’t even…” I took a deep breath, shaking my head to clear it. “Before I even start asking all the questions just begging for answers, what’s back that way?” I gestured to the doorway behind him, through which I assumed he’d come.

“Jail cells,” Conrad replied. “Empty. And more corpses. Did you see a ghoul come through here?”

“What? No, can’t say we did.” Alistair was looking more and more puzzled as we went, and I was sure our expressions matched perfectly. “Should we have?”

Conrad and Rolan exchanged frowns, but declined to elaborate further. “Have you found Anders and Solona?” Conrad asked.

I shook my head. “So they are here, somewhere? We assumed, when we saw the templars…”

Conrad sighed. “Long story.”

Uncertainly, Alistair pointed back the way the two Wardens had obviously come from. “There’s no other way out? It’s a dead end?” Rolan nodded. “Then let’s head up, and you can give your report to everyone at the same time. I look forward to an…explanation.”

I groaned in frustration at the delay; Rolan winced, and Conrad clapped his hand on the templar’s shoulder sympathetically, which surprised me. I was still more than half-convinced he’d had something to do with what had happened outside, and I expected Conrad to be furious, not concerned. 

“We’re not leaving without the mages,” Rolan insisted, and I raised my eyebrows. _Clearly there’s a lot more to this story than we even suspected – and given how little we know, that’s saying something._

“Of course not,” Alistair agreed, surprised, and Rolan seemed to relax a little at that. Knowing that the hallways behind us were cleared, we allowed the soldiers to lead the way up the stairs, through the warren of tunnels. “Are you injured? Do you need help?”

Conrad shook his head. “Not sure how, but all our injuries were healed before we woke up. Not even a scar to show for them.” He gestured to the damage to his armour, where he’d clearly been impaled at some point; I raised my eyebrows, impressed.

“He’s learned a few things in the last couple of decades,” I muttered, thinking back to the book “The Calling” and all the bandages and poultices he’d used to keep Duncan and the others alive when he’d captured them.

“How did you find us so fast, anyway?” Conrad asked Alistair while we walked.

“Well, we knew where you’d headed, and when we didn’t hear from you, we sent a scout with a raven. He sent a note back saying he was overrun with darkspawn. Seeing as no one else had seen any sign of the Architect, we figured this was the place we needed to be.”

Conrad nodded sadly. “I sent a messenger, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to make it.” His voice dropped until it was barely more than a hoarse whisper. “Were there any survivors?”

“Outside?” Alistair asked, surprised. “With the templars?” Conrad nodded. “I’m afraid not,” he finished. “We found enough bodies to account for all the soldiers except one. And a bunch of dead templars.”

Conrad and Rolan both slumped at the news, and Rolan rubbed his forehead irritably with a sigh. Alistair and I exchanged curious glances as the senior Warden reached out and bumped the templar’s shoulder, murmuring some sort of platitude I couldn’t quite hear.

We walked the rest of the way in silence, back to the main chamber where Nate waited with the rest of the army. My mind was racing the entire way – _what the hell happened out there?_ I had been so sure Rolan was somehow at fault…and yet Conrad’s response would indicate otherwise. It was probably best that we waited until they could tell everyone all at once, but it took everything I had not to shake the both of them until they explained _immediately_.

We finally reached the main chamber, to find the other Wardens were waiting – we were apparently the last group to return – and their jaws dropped when they saw Conrad and Rolan following us quietly out of the narrow doorway. I grinned at Aedan’s speechlessness as we approached; Zevran smothered a bemused chuckle with a cough and stepped around Aedan to squeeze my shoulder with a wink. 

“ _Cara mia_ , I’m not even surprised anymore. Welcome back, you two.” Zev nodded at Conrad and Rolan. “I’m guessing we need a place to talk, yes?” 

I was grateful that he’d taken control; I was too emotionally exhausted, and everyone else seemed to be standing around trying to process what was in front of their eyes. Zevran thought for a moment, and then herded all of us – Wardens, me, Trevian, and Nate – into the side passage he and Aedan had cleared. There were ruined tables and chairs pushed against the walls – I guessed it had served as a dining area for the dwarves that had once lived there – and we all sat down on the floor facing the two ‘rescued’ Wardens.

“Start at the beginning,” Alistair suggested sternly, and Rolan nodded with a gulp.

“I was on my patrol when we ran across a group of templars camped near the pass up the ridge into the bannorn,” the former templar began. “I knew some of them from my training, though I’d never served with them. They told me they were tracking some apostates in the area. I decided we would share their camp for a while, offered my help if it didn’t slow us down too much. I set up patrols to keep an eye out for darkspawn. After a day, when most of the soldiers had gone to their bedrolls, Rylock – the Knight Lieutenant – finally told me the truth. They were waiting for Anders and Solona.”

My heart skipped a beat, and my stomach sank. _Nothing good could come out of Rylock being anywhere near Anders._ I vividly remembered killing her in game when she went rogue and tried to kill Anders after his conscription; clearly she didn’t respect Warden authority, so she’d have entirely ignored the fact that they were Wardens.

“What?” Alim exclaimed, agitated. He looked incensed, and only Wulf’s hand on his shoulder kept him in his seat. “Waiting for them for what?”

Rolan looked down, avoiding eye contact. “They were planning to capture them. Rylock was sure Anders was a maleficar, and if Solona was with him…”

“Guilty by association,” Zevran finished wryly. “So what was their plan? They had just come from the Circle, yes? Their Knight-Commander permitted them to go, so what were they intending?”

“I didn’t know it at the time, but these templars had been transferred away from Kinloch for not adapting to the changes Knight-Commander Greagoir had instituted at the Circle. They thought the mages were being given too much freedom, and got in trouble for being too harsh.”

“So who do they report to? Where were they going to take them? I don’t imagine Grand Cleric Dorothea would be on their side either,” I demanded.

“I don’t know,” he replied, obviously chagrinned. “I didn’t know any of this until after. Maker take me, I agreed to help them capture the two for questioning – I thought Greagoir would take a second look, and assuming they weren’t blood mages, release them back to the Wardens.”

The look on Aedan’s face was truly alarming, and Rolan seemed to shrink under his glare when Aedan stood abruptly, looming over the templar angrily. “You were going to help templars capture _MY Wardens_? And turn them over-“

“Commander,” interrupted Conrad. “Just wait. Please, hear him out. There’s a lot more to this story.”

Aedan stopped and stared down at Conrad for a solid minute. The warrior met his gaze calmly, not wavering, and finally after an agonising moment where all of us held our breaths and Rolan appeared to be hoping to be swallowed by the floor, Aedan stepped back. He didn’t sit, but leaned against the wall to his left thoughtfully, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Go on, then,” he allowed, his tone a clear warning – _there’d better be a good explanation for this, or both Conrad and Rolan are going to be hip deep in it._

I took a deep, relieved breath, and felt Alistair relax slightly at my side. Rolan swallowed reflexively, and then continued with a deep breath of his own. “I knew that the soldiers with me wouldn’t help Wardens be captured, and might try to stop us, so when they woke I told them to establish a new camp closer to the cliffs, keep an eye out for darkspawn, and wait for me there. I went with the templars and established an ambush site at the bottom of the pass where we would be within range to smite them before they would know we were there. And then we waited. 

“They didn’t know exactly when the mages would be arriving – that was my first indication something wasn’t right. If they were working for Knight-Commander Greagoir, they should have known exactly when they were leaving. And then I overheard two of the men talking about…about Solona. Inappropriately.” He blushed, and I was briefly glad he wasn’t going to give me any details to go with the vile mental image I had come up with. “And Lieutenant Rylock didn’t stop them. Later, it became clear she was going to let them do whatever they wanted to her. At the time…I guess I hoped she thought it was a joke, or something.” He was clearly upset, his expression almost indignant.

Justice stood up abruptly, his armour scraping across the stone floor, but Aedan held up a hand before he could say anything. The spirit paced restlessly at the back of the room, fortunately not glowing blue or shouting in his horrible abomination-voice, but clearly agitated. I couldn’t blame him. 

Rolan eyed him curiously, but then cleared his throat and continued. “I also knew the mages had guards with them, and assumed the soldiers would accompany us to Kinloch. Surely they would yield to the authority of the Chantry? Especially when outnumbered. I knew they’d never stand by and let the templars harm a Warden, and when one of the younger templars brought that up, asking what would happen if the soldiers saw the templars with Solona…” He trailed off, closing his eyes as if trying to banish a particularly bad mental image. “…I overheard one of the Corporals saying that he didn’t need to worry – they’d all be dead anyway. They had no plans to leave any witnesses.

“I realised that whatever was going on, the Knight-Commander obviously had nothing to do with it. They were acting on their own, acting like animals, and I couldn’t just let them…” He trailed off, brow wrinkled. I jumped when he slammed his armoured fist into a nearby table. “I joined the Order to help people! I believe in the Maker and the Chant. ‘Magic exists to serve man’, and all that. I’ve seen what mages can do, seen abominations and demons and blood magic. I had friends die when the Circle fell. But this! I always thought mages were cursed, felt sorry for them even, but I knew the world had to be protected from them. That doesn’t mean they deserve to be mistreated! I never signed on to watch mages who hadn’t even been confirmed as maleficar be raped, or murdered…”

We were all rapt attention, watching Rolan obviously castigating himself as he told the story. I wasn’t sure who to feel sorrier for. He’d been lied to and brainwashed by the Chantry, addicted to dangerous substances, and then abandoned when it was convenient. And then he got to see just how bad his zealot colleagues could get. It couldn’t have been easy to accept how wrong he’d been. Aedan’s posture had eased, and Alistair squeezed my hand almost absently. _I hate the Maker-damned Chantry!_

“I waited until nightfall. We returned to their camp, knowing the mages wouldn’t risk the pass in the dark, and once everyone had settled, I snuck out of there. I walked to where I knew the rest of my patrol would be, planning to send a message and have a scout follow the templars – I knew I didn’t have the manpower to stop the templars myself. But when I got there, I found Conrad’s patrol as well. I’d forgotten all about the missed rendezvous.”

Conrad took over, and Rolan shot him a grateful look. “With both patrols, we outnumbered the templars. I thought we could arrest them and prevent them from getting their hands on the mages. We broke camp, and fell on the templars the next day. They’d already captured Solona and Anders, and had killed their guards. I expected the templars to yield, honestly – we had the advantage of numbers, and caught them by surprise – but some of them insisted on a fight. We killed seven of them before the rest threw down their weapons and surrendered. The surviving Knight-Corporal told us that he didn’t know who they reported to, but they were to bring the mages to Amaranthine and board a ship – they were taking them somewhere in Orlais, as far as he knew. 

“Greagoir had tried to excommunicate the lot of them after some incident at Kinloch a few months back, but Rylock had found them a Chantry sponsor who was supplying them with Lyrium and promised to ‘fix everything’ if they brought in the Warden mages – alive, though not necessarily unharmed, apparently. They were explicitly promised they had free rein as long as they were still breathing. But of course Rylock was one of those who fought to the death, and she was the only one who knew all the details.

“We stayed there for the day; the mages hadn’t been harmed, thank the Maker – in the confusion with Rolan missing, their ‘entertainment’ had been put on hold – but they’d both been hit by smites, then fed magebane, and were feeling sick. We planned to light a pyre in the morning for the templars and the soldiers we’d lost, and then escort the remaining templars back to the Vigil, but we were attacked by darkspawn in the night. It was like they came out of nowhere. I just had time to send off one of the scouts to try to get a message back to you. But with the templars tied up, both mages unable to cast, and some of the soldiers injured…we had no chance. I saw Rolan fall, and then I got hit in the head…and woke up in a dungeon with Rolan, and no sign of the mages.”

Rolan began talking again. “Somehow we were healed before we woke. The Architect took blood from both of us a few times, brought us rations and water, but otherwise left us alone. I tried to smite him, but he just shrugged it off. We were just stuck there, waiting – naked, no weapons, nothing. And then, not long before you found us, a ghoul came in. A dwarf. Unlocked our cages, dumped out a bag full of our equipment, and left without a word.”

“She was a Silent Sister,” Conrad explained. “There was one in Jader when I was there, and I recognised some of the gestures. She told us to leave, that she hoped we’d be able to escape.”

“Utha,” I gasped. “She’s not working with the Architect anymore then – he wouldn’t have been happy.”

Conrad nodded. “I asked her about the mages, but she wouldn’t say, just kept telling us to leave. We fought our way out of the cells, and that’s when you found us. But you said you haven’t found Solona and Anders yet?”

Aedan shook his head sadly.

“This is my fault.” Rolan stood up, unbuckled his sword sheath from his waist and dropped it to the floor, then stood, hands clasped behind his back in submission, facing Alistair and Aedan. “It’s no secret I was…concerned about mages outside of Chantry control, and I thought you weren’t watching them closely enough…but they did not deserve this. I didn’t stop the templars, and I failed Solona and Anders, as well as you both. I am prepared to accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate, Commanders.” I wondered if I’d ever heard Rolan use their names before, instead of calling them ‘mage’ or ‘Warden’, but I detected no insincerity in his apology. Conrad looked like he was going to object, but Rolan shook his head subtly and the senior Warden sat back with a sigh.

I glanced at Aedan out of the corner of my eye to see his jaw twitch with tension. “Wait outside, Warden,” he told the former templar. “We will let you know.” Conrad stood to go with him, but Aedan gestured to his chair. “Not you.”

Conrad sat reluctantly, an unhappy scowl marring his normally handsome face. We waited in silence for Rolan to shuffle out the door. Nate made eye contact with one of his captains outside, and I knew he would be watched until Aedan decided what to do with him.

Aedan finally sat back down after the door shut, shoulders slumping. He turned to Conrad, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

“Commander,” the redhead said slowly, as though testing each word before letting them out, “I’ll grant that going along with the templars in the first place doesn’t paint him in the best light, but he risked his life to get away from them so he could warn us. There was literally no way he could have stopped them alone, and if he’d tried to convince them, they’d have killed him. You didn’t see them; their devotion to what they called their ‘duty’ was…disturbing, actually. I’ve never seen a person fight so hard in the face of overwhelming odds. It’s like they were possessed. There’s no chance he could have stopped them alone.

“And then after we defeated the templars, he had to stand there and listen to them denigrate him, call him a coward, a Chantry traitor, and worse; the only time he reacted was when one of them said something disrespectful to Solona, and he made the bastard regret it, too. 

“When the darkspawn attacked, he was the first to be standing where both mages had fallen, too sick to defend themselves properly. He fought like a demon himself, took wounds he shouldn’t have trying to protect them. He fell, but he made the ‘spawn pay for it. And he was the first to insist we go after them ourselves rather than escape as the ghoul recommended. 

“He’s expecting to be executed, I think, or sent to prison somewhere – maybe Aeonar, or the Warden equivalent. I’d like to think I know you well enough to know that’s not going to happen. He made a mistake, but he’s realised it and tried to do what he could to make up for it. He doesn’t deserve that.”

I was impressed by Conrad’s impassioned speech, but more so by the fact that, without knowing it, Rolan had earned such a dedicated defender. Since his Joining, out of all of us, Conrad had worked with him the most, probably spoken to him the most while the rest of us were avoiding the issue and hiding our heads in the sand. _We did nothing to help him transition, to make him feel welcome, and he stayed anyway. If Conrad is so positive that he’s reformed, that he didn’t purposefully put the mages in harm’s way…He will still need to be punished for insubordination, but I guess I can give him the benefit of the doubt for the rest._

Aedan seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He turned to us, raising his eyebrow, his head tilted slightly, the question implicit. Alistair and I made brief eye contact, and then nodded wordlessly. Aedan finally stood with a sigh. “I’ll deal with Rolan. Everyone, get ready. You’ve got an hour for rest and food, and then we’re going to find the Architect and end this.” 

We filed out of the room to see the army already doing what Aedan had suggested. Some were eating rations, sitting quietly while they chewed the ubiquitous jerky that soldiers seemed to exist on in Thedas. Some cleaned their equipment or sharpened swords; some slept where they fell, snatching what rest they could before moving on. We found ourselves some space and did the same, filling ever-hungry bellies with leathery rations, readying equipment and getting some rest. I briefly thanked the Maker for Warden stamina, otherwise I felt sure I’d have been too exhausted to move after such a trying morning.

After a few minutes I saw Rolan and Aedan approach; the former templar had his sword strapped back on, and he moved purposefully and quietly, looking almost…at peace. Aedan shot me a grin before sinking to the ground and chewing absentmindedly on his own jerky. Alistair had huddled up with Trevian and Nate, devising the strategy for the next offensive, I assumed; when I was done eating, I grabbed some rations for my husband, found a small wedge of cheese tucked at the bottom of my bag for just such an occasion, and brought them to him just as they seemed to finish up.

“What was in the other side passages, anyway?” I asked after accepting my husband’s adoring smile when I handed him the cheese. Mouth too full to respond, he gestured at Trevian, who grunted.

“Mostly empty rooms. This must have been a major crossroads back in the day, judging by the size of the guard outpost. One day, maybe we’ll even be able to reclaim it – there’s the basics for sanitation, living quarters, and it would be quite defensible…” He trailed off, and I cleared my throat. He flushed. “Sorry ‘bout that. There were a few darkspawn stragglers, but nothing major. No one was hurt.”

I nodded thoughtfully, turning to face the large, black opening at the back of the room – the only place we’d yet to explore. “So any idea what’s back there? Does your ‘stone sense’ tell you anything about the layout?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t work like that, cloudhead.” He grinned at me, and I laughed. “That’s not part of the Deep Roads proper. Can’t say whether it was darkspawn who dug it, or unsanctioned dwarven mining. It leads straight into the rock – no way to know how far it goes before we hit Deep Roads again. Could be one room, could be miles of irregular tunnels. Either way, they can’t help but know we’re coming – that battle wasn’t exactly quiet. Depending on the forces this Architect has available…we could be in for quite the fight.”

I sighed. “Well, this ought to be interesting, anyway.”


	145. Barrier to Entry

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Five: Barrier to Entry

 

All of our forces had lined up in ranks, five across, in front of the opening leading further underground. There weren’t as many as I’d hoped, between the injuries and those left to guard our rear. The soldiers themselves seemed tense, as though their numbers were weighing on their minds as well. We’d been subjected to hours of stress punctuated by periods of intense combat; though the Wardens faced the worst of the fighting, it had to be affecting the soldiers, many of whom were probably farmers or similar prior to the Blight. _And there’s no way for someone to be become used to this sort of thing, Warden or not._

But for all that, they were, by now, professionals. Nate gestured, and the fidgeting stopped as they prepared to move.

With all of the rooms and passages behind us explored and soldiers guarding them, we could be fairly certain the Architect and his darkspawn – and, apparently, the ghoul Utha – were somewhere in front of us, but we had no way of knowing exactly what we would be walking into. We couldn’t guess at numbers, had no way of knowing what traps –magical or not – the Architect might have arranged, or even how deep these tunnels went. For all we knew, the Architect could already be long gone. And we could only hope we would find Anders and Solona somewhere along the way. _Unharmed, please Maker, if you’re listening._

I wanted to scout ahead, make use of my curious, still-unexplained invisibility to most darkspawn to see what lay before us. However, Aedan had completely put his foot down, and to my dismay, everyone – Nate, Trevian, even Alistair – agreed with him.

“Be reasonable, Sierra. This isn’t like before, when it was unlikely for you to come upon the Architect the minute you came through the door. He could be literally right around the corner, and he can see you,” Aedan explained, speaking slowly as though talking to a particularly dense child.

I scowled. “We don’t know that. I attacked him last time, stole his mana. All the darkspawn can see me _after_ I attack them. We don’t know if he could see me before that. And if he was that close, I’d be able to feel him.” “The risk is too great. If he can see you, you could be captured, even killed. We’ve seen that he can control his darkspawn; if he can see you, he can direct them to attack you. You’re not going in there alone.” I didn’t agree; any potential danger to me was more than outweighed by how valuable the information I could glean by scouting ahead was. We’d managed much better in the past than the game would indicate – in the Deep Roads, even in Redcliffe and the Circle though for different reasons – because of the warning I could provide. But I could see by the stubborn look on his face that Aedan was not going to change his mind – and at some point, I had sort of agreed to follow orders in the field. Besides, short of climbing over the group of soldiers between me and the tunnel – none of whom, I was sure, would be cooperative – there was nothing I could do except give my brother dirty looks. Which I did. A lot. Sighing, Aedan led the Grey Wardens to the front of the ranks, followed closely by the Legion of the Dead. Once set, weapons in hand, Aedan whistled loudly and we all began moving forward. We made no pretense at stealth; after the fighting we’d already done, there was no chance that any darkspawn further in were unaware of our presence. We would just have to hope that superior skills – and hopefully numbers, though we couldn’t be sure – would carry the day. It felt sort of bad ass, if I was honest – like one of those movie poster moments, when the superheroes stride bravely towards the villain, confident and righteous. _All we need are a few capes, and a stiff breeze, maybe an explosion in the background._ I snorted out a laugh, and Alistair, clearly feeling it too, shot me a dazzling grin.

His grin – and my temporary good mood – dimmed as we progressed deeper and deeper underground.

The tunnel we were in widened progressively as we went, and the soldiers behind us kept readjusting their lines, trying to ensure that the entirety of the tunnel was obstructed and that as many as possible were at the front to meet the enemy when the time came. The Wardens spread out, the Legionnaires right behind us filling the second row. The torches, carried by a few well-protected soldiers scattered throughout the ranks, cast eerie shadows on the walls and ceiling, the acrid smell of smoke and decay and taint unpleasant, though like in Bownammar, we’d grown somewhat accustomed to it.

We stumbled across a lone scout – _lookout?_ – almost immediately after turning the first corner. I wasn’t sure how much warning he might have been able to provide for the darkspawn behind him – _they have to know we’re here by now!_ – but it was moot. Before anyone else could react, before the hurlock could so much as open his mouth to shout, an arrow pierced his neck, and he dropped to the ground, black blood fountaining out of the wound, air bubbles churning it into a disgusting black froth. I looked around to see Nate lowering his bow, a grim scowl marring his handsome features. 

The body was slung to the side for later burning, and we stepped past it without further comment.

We’d gone perhaps two hundred feet further – _just how big is this place, anyway?_ – and around a couple of broad curves when we finally met a group of darkspawn. I could see no reason for their placement; the tunnel hadn’t led into a room, and there was nothing to differentiate this spot from any other we’d passed, but we came around a corner to the sight of the largest group of darkspawn we’d encountered since we’d entered these Maker-forsaken tunnels.

With screeches and grunts, the darkspawn rushed us as soon as they saw us; moving into our by-now familiar battle lines, the Grey Wardens and Legionnaires carved into probably more than fifty ‘spawn, the soldiers prepared to deal with any who made it through that in one piece. Arrows flew over our heads, exchanged between Nate’s archers at the back and a bunch of genlocks wielding bows, and I felt Alim draw on his mana and cast first a barrier, then an enormous storm over the rear of the horde. The arrows plunked harmlessly against the barrier, and I heard darkspawn scream as the storm ramped up, raining down lightning like Odin in some story from Norse mythology.

I could feel two emissaries in the back begin to cast; with almost vicious glee I seized their mana, throwing shields over everyone that I could see, delighting in the shouts of surprise as darkspawn attacks that should have been successful bounced. As I turned back to the battle around me, I engaged a genlock carrying a jagged longsword and a battered plank as a shield. With the benefit of my strange darkspawn ‘invisibility’, I easily buried my dagger in its flank between the plates of its ill-fitting, scavenged armour when it tried to make a lunge at Alistair. I heard my husband shout ‘duck!’ from behind, and I dropped to one knee as he swung his heavy longsword over my head, decapitating the hurlock I hadn’t seen on my other side. Alistair hauled me bodily to my feet before I could be trampled – there wasn’t much space, despite the enormous size of the tunnel, with so many combatants involved. We exchanged quick smiles and dived back into the fight.

With the emissaries helpless without their mana, the darkspawn’s organisation suffered, making them easy targets. Every swing of a Warden weapon near me hit its mark, and darkspawn started dropping all around me. Unfortunately, so did soldiers – with less experience, less expertise than the Wardens, there were a handful of soldiers being dragged back out of the way by their fellows. As awful as it felt to watch injuries happen, I couldn’t spare the time to stare and nurse my feelings. There were more darkspawn to kill.

Seeing no sign of the Architect, I crept past Alistair to the side of the crowded tunnel, working my way to the back to begin cutting down archers when Alim’s storm finally abated. The darkspawn archers were bedraggled, burnt by lightning and soaked by magical rain, and none of them noticed me until it was too late. I slit one throat, then buried my blade in the abdomen of a genlock before any of the others had even noticed. I was relieved that there didn’t appear to be any sort of coordinated effort to locate me; whether the Architect hadn’t considered me a risk or just hadn’t fully understood the implications of my strange ability, I didn’t know. _But I’ll take it!_

As I looked across the room, I could see that Zevran and Wulf had more opposition – but also considerably more skill – and between the three of us, the archers and two emissaries died while the rest of the battle raged. 

Those deaths proved the turning point, however; without any ranged backup, the soldiers were able to engage, thinning the ranks of darkspawn, and there were literally piles of darkspawn corpses around the rest of the Wardens and Legionnaires. I backstabbed a shriek trying to flank Trevian, earning myself a tired smile, then made my way back towards Alistair, stabbing and slicing with impunity. I didn’t think I’d ever stop enjoying the ability to so effortlessly rid the world of the monsters. I felt useful, even needed, something I’d never had back on Earth, and it felt good, even if it involved cleaning a lot of darkspawn blood off of myself. _I’ve come a long way since being that scared little girl who couldn’t use a weapon to save her life…literally._

When the battle was over, several of the Wardens had suffered minor injuries, one of the dwarves had taken a bash to the head that knocked him out, and some of the soldiers sporting various wounds had to be helped – or carried – back to the camp on the surface. No one had died, however, and none of us could sense the taint in any of the injured troops. _Small mercies._

Alim spent nearly the last of his mana on healing, vocally wishing for Anders’ help with the worst of the injuries but refusing to take one of our few remaining Lyrium potions. He was concerned Solona or Anders might need them once we found them – and none of us could disagree. We hadn’t brought along a bunch of extra potions, having no idea the two mages would be anywhere near the Architect. 

Aedan sent Alim back to camp with the injured, much to the elf’s dismay; a confused Justice accompanied him while nursing a broken arm that would require more healing finesse than Alim had. I almost laughed as I heard the frustrated elf trying to explain the concept of bones and muscles to the curious spirit. I’d assumed Vander’s knowledge of injuries would translate, but it seemed like sometimes Justice preferred learning things for himself to accessing those memories.

We left the darkspawn bodies where they lay, deciding to burn them when we were finished. I wasn’t looking forward to that – the stench of burning darkspawn in enclosed spaces was not something I wished to experience again. _Though I suppose marrying a Grey Warden makes it sort of impossible to avoid._ Not wanting to waste any more time, or allow the Architect more chances to prepare – or escape – Aedan ordered the remaining Wardens, soldiers, and Legion dwarves to form up. I gripped my daggers, anxious and overly ready for the whole thing to be done. I smiled grimly at Alistair, and he reached up to touch my cheek gently with the back of his gauntlet.

“Let’s do this.” I exchanged nods with Aedan, and we turned to step forward.

The tunnel ran around another sharp turn, and I noticed the walls were becoming much more regular, the ceiling smooth and squared off, parts of damaged statues and railings casting odd shadows in the torch light. _We’re back in the proper Deep Roads._ It was probably one of the oldest sections I’d ever seen, even the long-lasting dwarven architecture crumbling. There were no active lava channels, and I assumed the lava flow had been blocked by the cave-in that had blocked the area off from the rest of the Roads. 

The passage finally came to an end, tapering abruptly down to a familiar round metal portal. But instead of the large dwarven door I expected in such a frame, there was a mound of rock blocking most of the opening, leaving a space perhaps three or four feet across through which only one or two people could pass at a time. We paused, eyeing the stone uncertainly, and Aedan gestured to Trevian to come forward.

“Well, that ain’t natural,” I heard one of the other dwarves assert, and Trevian nodded as he reached us.

“That’s no cave-in,” he agreed. “That rock looks…melted. This was built – I’d guess by magic, but whether recent or a long time ago I couldn’t say.”

“Any way to know what the other side looks like?” Aedan asked.

The Legion Commander snorted. “Stone sense isn’t that good, son.” Aedan pouted at the diminutive address, and I grinned at his discomfort, making the dwarf chuckle. “Based on the fact that we’re in the Roads, somewhere, it’s likely to be an old Thaig. No idea which, or what shape it will be in, though. There’s no maps of this area that I’m aware of – even finding Kal’Hirol was a miracle.”

“The broken door doesn’t seem like a good sign for finding much intact,” I mused.

Alistair nodded. “Might as well look and find out.” He shifted his heavy shield, rolling one shoulder and twisting his neck until it popped faintly. “Rolan with me, we’ll go through shields first. Everyone else behind. Stay tight until we know what we’re dealing with.”

The former templar nodded wordlessly, stepping close to my husband so the two of them could squeeze through the narrow opening side-by-side. Aedan, Zevran and I crowded in directly behind them, with the rest of the Wardens on our heels. I rested the back of my hand on Alistair’s armour as we all began to step forward as one.

“Well, the Architect is definitely in there,” I commented before we’d even reached the narrow gap; I could suddenly feel the malevolent, enormous aura of his mana, familiar from my time spent in his dungeon. It was a sensation that made me want to run screaming for a bath, though I couldn’t recognise whatever spell he’d cast. I felt Alistair stiffen at the same time, and by the tenseness in Rolan’s posture, I could tell both men had felt it as well. I reached out and tried to grab at the mana like I’d done in the Mother’s lair – with an equal lack of success. It was like trying to hold onto the ocean, both too large and too slippery to get a proper grip; I grappled with it for a moment, then sighed in disappointment. “Be careful,” I warned uselessly as I felt Alistair start to move forward again.

It was a tight squeeze; not only did the fallen rock block much of the passage’s width, but it also hung low, forcing most of the men to duck. I was briefly thankful that Shale wasn’t with us – _as invaluable as she is against darkspawn, she’d never fit through this gap._ Even I was feeling slightly claustrophobic, but fortunately it didn’t last long: ten shuffling feet in, the passage opened up again, and Alistair and Rolan raised their shields and stepped confidently forward to give the rest of us space.

Only for all of us to stop where we stood, dumbfounded, blocking those behind us from coming inside. 

We found ourselves in a massive cavern, dimly lit by some source I couldn’t quite identify. The ceiling was higher than that in the Orzammar commons, and there were old, crumbling buildings – whether residences, businesses, or something else I couldn’t say – carved directly into the walls like in the dwarven city. The Thaig extended back beyond our sphere of light, dark shapes in the distance blurry in the wan light. But that was not what drew our attention and left us open-mouthed in shock.

Instead, what we stopped to stare at was a massive, greenish-grey dome, translucent but slightly obscuring what was inside it – like looking through poor quality coloured glass. It stretched from a few feet in front of us as far back as the eye could see, reaching probably twenty feet in the air, and spanning most of the width of the Thaig. It pulsed and swirled slightly, thicker clots of the greenish substance slowly flowing across the surface like scum on a pond. It was obviously a barrier of some sort – and it was the source of the magic I’d felt being cast, I was sure of it.

Inside, if I squinted, I could see there were darkspawn corpses strewn across a massive open square, black ichor still slowly leaking out of them, indicating they were recent. Several dozen feet back, I could see a shape that could only be the Architect, his abnormal height and ridiculously pointed mask making him recognisable despite the distance. Standing next to him – and brandishing a dagger pointed in his direction – was a short, squat, dark figure that I assumed must be Utha.

And off to the side, chained to a massive, unnatural stalagmite, was the pale form of Solona. I could see her slightly moving, her blond head bobbing, and was relieved – _at least she’s alive._ I couldn’t tell if she had any injuries, couldn’t see her expression, couldn’t tell if she’d seen us, or was even fully conscious. _What’s that monster done to her?_ It took me a moment longer to identify the dark lump in front of her as Anders. The mage’s still form was crumpled on the ground, and I had no way of knowing if he was dead or alive. I couldn’t feel either mage’s mana pools, but I knew I couldn’t differentiate between death, mana depletion, or some other form of incapacity anyway.

I looked back to the Architect; I couldn’t do anything for my friends, but hopefully if we were able to disable the creature who’d put them in this position, it would be over soon enough for us to help them.

I couldn’t hear anything – the barrier evidently blocked sound as well as obscuring sight – but it was clear the Architect and Utha were communicating. The former Warden waved her free hand wildly while keeping the dagger trained on her former ally; the Architect tilted his head in that way I’d seen when he was ‘listening’ to the ghoul. I tried again to seize his mana – still unsuccessfully.

I hadn’t realised we were all blocking the passage as we stared at the surreal tableau in front of us. At a shout from behind we squished forward letting the rest of the Wardens, a bunch of dwarves, and then Nate and Trevian through. When the two leaders – noble and commander – saw what had us spellbound, they both turned, relaying orders to stop more people from flooding into the cavern. With only two darkspawn left alive that we could see, we no longer needed the numbers – the Architect was powerful, but he wasn’t about to overcome eight Wardens, a dozen Legionnaires, and a handful of soldiers, not to mention me and Nate – and whatever happened with the Architect, it was probably best that we had fewer people watching.

No one dared approach the barrier. _For all we know it could kill anyone who touched it – and I’m not going anywhere near that disgusting green stuff under any circumstances._ We tried yelling, but the ghoul and the darkspawn either couldn’t hear us, or ignored us entirely. I couldn’t imagine that they were unaware of our presence, but it was impossible to be sure. Nate fired an arrow, but it bounced off harmlessly. 

After a quick discussion, Rolan and Alistair both tried to dispel the magic holding up the barrier, with no noticeable effect. I tried on my own, and then tried again curled against Alistair’s chest while he held me. The magic of the barrier felt vile, as tainted as the being who’d created it, and even the cuddle part of the cleansing didn’t make it any less unpleasant. Although I could sense the barrier with my templar abilities just like the one on the secret passage, I couldn’t seem to get hold of it the same way. I was able to weaken it slightly by chasing away the magic in the surrounding area, but not enough to make it drop.

And so we stood, uselessly, watching the apparent conversation. After a moment, I saw Zevran and Wulf separate and try to follow the bubble back into the depths of the Thaig – but they returned almost immediately, shaking their heads. _No way around it. Nothing for us to do but wait._

From appearances, the conversation wasn’t going well; Utha’s hand holding the dagger started to drift downwards, her animated gestures becoming less and less enthusiastic. And I could feel the Architect’s aura shrinking as they talked – obviously maintaining the barrier was draining him, and it seemed likely that he would eventually have to let it drop. He practically drooped as we watched, shoulders slumping, head sagging forward – either tired or sad, or perhaps both, I thought.

I warned the others that his barrier could fail; we all waited with bated breath, weapons drawn, hoping to pounce the moment it dropped. We had no plans to talk to the creature; leaving him alive was just too dangerous. I kept trying to seize his mana, somewhat surprised that the barrier didn’t block my templar abilities, but it didn’t matter – his mana may have been draining, but he still held it with ironclad control.

And then movement caught my eye, and I focused back on the two creatures standing in the middle of the barrier. Utha shook her head vehemently, and the Architect, after a quick glance in our direction, turned his back to her and appeared to be heading deeper into the Thaig. _Where’s he going? Is he trying to escape? No!_ I almost screamed in frustration; I knew I’d never be able to live in peace with him still out there; I had so many questions, but more than answers, I just wanted him dead. I wanted an end to the threat he posed – to me, to Ferelden, to all of Thedas. And somehow I knew that if he escaped this time, he wasn’t going to stick around – he would disappear for another few decades, start another Blight or concoct some other hair-brained scheme, and our chance to end it would be lost.

I took a step toward the barrier, my anger and frustration overwhelming my sense of self-preservation. I vaguely wondered what harm the barrier could do to me – I was already tainted, and my templar abilities might protect me from the magic, but in that moment, desperate, I didn’t really care that much. I took another step. 

Alistair and Aedan both gasped and reached for me, but it wasn’t necessary.

In the moment that I hesitated after the first step, Utha, who’d been standing still, one arm wrapped around her own middle, shoulders down and looking incredibly dejected, straightened up, squared her shoulders, took one massive running leap towards the Architect’s receding back, and drove her dagger into his flank, the blade sinking deep into his unprotected flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has commented and given Kudos! You're all awesome.


	146. Un-Awakened

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Six: Un-Awakened

 

Utha, who’d been standing still, one arm wrapped around her own middle, shoulders down and looking incredibly dejected, straightened up, squared her shoulders, took one massive running leap towards the Architect’s receding back, and drove her dagger into his flank, the blade sinking deep into his unprotected flesh.

Time seemed to slow. I gasped, heard Aedan shout out in surprise, saw Solona twitch, felt Alistair’s hand tighten on my shoulder; each item took only a fraction of a second, but felt much longer. In that frozen instant, the barrier dropped, and I reached out quick as lightning and seized the Architect’s mana. I wasn’t sure if he would die – Utha had withdrawn the dagger, making no further attempt to injure him – but I wasn’t taking any chances, and her attack had at least distracted him enough that his iron grip on his own mana pool was lost. 

I watched as the creature spun slowly, looking at Utha with pure disbelief and betrayal showing even on his ruined face, before he sank down to the ground almost comically slowly. His hand covered the wound, and I vaguely wondered if he’d tried to heal himself, assuming he even had any sort of healing ability. Not that it would matter if he did, since he had no access to any mana to cast with. 

The thought brought me up short; I hadn’t really noticed, but he had barely any mana for me to hold onto, and what little I held was slowly decreasing as time went on. When I’d managed to take his mana before, when Faren had been captured, he’d had the largest mana pool of anyone I’d ever encountered before that. Now he probably didn’t have the mana for a single spell, and it was fading fast.

_Is he dying?_ I tried to think if I’d ever noticed mana slowly bleeding out of an emissary that we’d killed, but most of them had died quite quickly. I had no idea what it meant, but had no intention of letting go regardless.

Finally released from our shocked paralysis, we all jumped to action. Conrad and Rolan raced to Solona and Anders, the former digging through his pack for healing and Lyrium potions even as the latter reached for his weapon to cut the bonds that held the chained mage to the stone. Aedan and Zevran ran towards Utha, swords raised, while the ghoul dropped her own weapon and held her hands up in surrender even as she sank slowly to her knees. And Alistair and I went to check on the Architect where he had dropped, unmoving. Nate and the Legionnaires spread out around us, checking the rest of the corpses for signs of life, and the rest of the old Thaig for more darkspawn.

The Architect’s still form was repellant, radiating the taint in a way no Warden or mere darkspawn did; the feel of it, so malignant, made my knees go weak and my stomach roil. I swallowed convulsively, trying to keep the contents of my stomach on the inside, and forced myself to reach down and touch the monster from so many of my nightmares.

It took both Alistair and I to roll him onto his back; it was clear, once he was straightened out, that he was breathing, though how long that would last with black ichor pumping out of the wound in his side was unclear. His eyes were partially open, but unseeing, and he didn’t react to being moved or even to his wound being jostled. And I noted that his mana was all-but-gone; there was virtually nothing left for me to hold. Alistair and I exchanged confused glances before looking over to where Aedan and Zevran held Utha hostage.

The two Wardens were debating tying the former Warden’s hands; I signalled to Wulf to watch over the Architect, and Alistair and I joined my brother in the discussion.

“Don’t,” Alistair recommended. “Don’t tie her hands. We’re going to have some questions, and she can’t talk. She won’t be able to answer.”

Aedan looked down and snapped to get the ghoul’s attention. “Will you cooperate? Will you answer questions?”

She nodded reluctantly, hands moving spastically to sign…something, which startled poor Zevran and made him bring the tip of his sword to her neck. She actually rolled her eyes at him and gestured again slowly, deliberately, but then seemed to almost sway, even kneeling as she was. I realised the black pool of blood surrounding her knees was slowly growing, and I pointed it out to Aedan.

“She’s injured. If we don’t heal her, she may not last long enough to answer.”

Aedan fished his hand into a small pouch attached to his belt and came out with a small healing potion. He hesitated before handing it over.

“Do I have your word you will not try to harm anyone here or try to escape?”

She nodded again, more enthusiastically this time, and gestured again, this time clearly pointing towards where Conrad knelt at Anders’ side. 

“Just give it to her,” I growled at Aedan. “What’s she going to do with all of us here? I’m going to get Conrad. Hopefully he can understand her well enough to translate.”

I left the three nervous men surrounding Utha and hurried over to the two captured mages and their rescuers. Trevian was there, patiently supporting Solona and tilting the remnants of a blue Lyrium vial into her mouth. She was pale, covered in bruises, breathing harshly; her eyes fluttered, clearly not entirely conscious, and I decided against asking any questions for the time being. Anders looked somehow better, despite being out for the count – less pale, less sweaty, but with a significant goose egg on one temple to explain why he hadn’t awoken yet. Conrad was coaxing a healing potion down his throat while Rolan hovered over both mages anxiously.

“Conrad? We could use your help.” I pointed to where Utha knelt, having just polished off her own vial of red fluid. The ghoul was busy removing her heavy armour, I assumed so she could get at the gut wound that had bled so profusely.

Conrad glanced over and nodded, then called out to Sigrun to take over. The templar looming over us knelt quickly before she could even get there, pulling out a Lyrium potion from his own supply. 

“I’ve got this.” He nodded as Sigrun joined him, but pulled the unconscious mage’s head into his own lap. “Go. I’ll call you if his condition changes.”

Conrad stood, obviously more trusting than I was; he stretched his shoulders quickly, shaking out his hands, and then headed towards Aedan. I spared one last glance at the pair of Wardens attending to Anders, reassured by Sigrun’s steady presence. _I’m not quite ready to forgive and forget with Rolan yet, but Sigrun won’t let anything happen to Anders._

I turned away and trotted over to my brother in time to hear Conrad, in response to something Utha had signed, say, “Heal him? Wha-“

Utha interrupted him with several terse hand gestures, pointing at the Architect’s limp form more than once; she appeared to be having to repeat herself, with Conrad muttering at her to slow down the entire time, but eventually understanding seemed to bloom on his handsome face.

“Alright, so, correct me if I’m wrong,” he said to Utha before turning to us, “but I think what she’s saying is that the Architect is…sort of like an Archdemon.” She signed something, and he nodded. “Not exactly, I know, but the point is, if we kill him, or allow him to die…he won’t be dead. His essence will pass to the nearest darkspawn – not a Warden, so in this case Utha first, or, if we killed her, another darkspawn somewhere in the Deep Roads nearby – and he’ll come back.”

I gasped. “Like Corypheus.” Aedan and Alistair looked at me strangely, and I shook my head. “He’s one of them. One of the original Magisters, the ones who tried to go to the Golden city. Ask her.” I couldn’t get the images out of my head, now that they’d been brought to mind: Hawke killing Corypheus in the Dragon Age downloadable content, and then Larius acting so strangely afterwards.

Conrad asked her, and she half-shrugged, half-nodded. She gestured, and he translated. “Maybe. She doesn’t really know. But he’s died before, and just came back. So killing him isn’t a solution.”

“What did you do to him?” Aedan asked her.

“And why doesn’t he have any mana?” I added before she could reply.

Conrad translated for me again, then watched her increasingly frustrated signing. “She poisoned him. I’m assuming something like mage bane,” he paused as she signed something emphatically, “or not. Something worse. But he won’t wake for a long time, and his mana is gone. But if he dies, even with the poison, he’ll come back – so she is suggesting rather forcefully that we give him a healing potion. She assures me it won’t cure the poison.”

We all looked at each other, eyebrows raised, unable or unwilling to vocalise the questions. Finally, with a shrug, Aedan handed me a healing potion. “Up to you, sis,” he decided. “You seem to know the most about what’s going on, and you’re the one he’s hurt the most.”

I took the small vial reluctantly, weighing it in my hand while I dithered. What would we do with an unconscious former Magister? I couldn’t keep him suppressed forever, and if his mana reserves returned to their former levels, no one else would be able to manage him. _Regardless, do I believe Utha? I rather think she’s telling the truth – it makes a sick sort of sense, really._ And if I believed her, then allowing the Architect to die wasn’t a better solution. Regardless of what we decided to do to him, keeping him alive – and under our control – was the best possible situation, at least for now. 

Mind made up, I walked over and knelt by the Architect’s ruined face. Wulf, who’d been watching the creature as requested, lifted his head and tilted it back, allowing me to pour the potion into his open mouth. The black ichor flowing out of his wound slowed and stopped as I massaged his throat, forcing the sticky fluid down. He didn’t so much as twitch, though, even when Wulf pinched his finger hard to attempt to elicit a pain reaction. Reassured, I returned to Aedan and Alistair where they stood watching me. I curled into Alistair’s arms, trying to take comfort from him despite the plate armour he wore; I couldn’t help but notice Utha’s bemused, inaccurate gaze as she tried to see me despite my strange invisibility.

Aedan turned back to the former Warden. “I have to ask: why?” He gestured to the Architect’s still unconscious form.

Utha sighed, and then started signing, slower this time and obviously reluctant. Conrad translated. “She says…he deceived her. Kept things from her. And she excused it for a long time, hoping he could make good on his promise to end the Blights. But she finally came to realise that he would sacrifice anything and anyone to accomplish his goal, and didn’t care about the collateral damage.”

I eyed the ghoul skeptically. It wasn’t that those reasons weren’t legitimate; there was no question the Architect was more than ruthless enough to watch the entire world burn if it got him what he was looking for. It was more that…it didn’t seem like that was enough to explain such a change of heart. It wasn’t new information; she’d known for more than two decades that it was true. So why now?

And then something clicked. “It was because of Kell, wasn’t it?” Conrad looked at me in confusion, but I just shook my head and pointed at Utha. “Ask her. She changed her mind because of what I said about Kell, back at the Mother’s nest.”

Conrad turned back to her; she was staring into space over my left shoulder, presumably the place she assumed I was standing. “Is it because of Kell?” he asked uncertainly.

The ghoul slumped even further, if that was possible, and finally nodded. She signed something urgently at Conrad, and then reached a hand up one armoured sleeve. Zevran and Aedan jumped, both of them producing daggers seemingly out of thin air; Conrad jumped back, and Alistair pushed in front of me with a curse. She ignored them all, didn’t even wince as Zevran’s blade pierced the skin on her neck, simply grabbing the dagger she’d been reaching for and holding it out in my general direction hilt first. She didn’t waver; her hands didn’t shake even as a trickle of black blood wound its way down her neck.

I looked to Conrad, whose expression was hilarious, a weird combination between surprise, fear, puzzlement, and disgust. “What did she say?”

He swallowed, turning to look me in the eye, still looking vaguely…sick, or something. _Constipated?_ I had to stifle a completely inappropriate giggle.

“She wants you to stab her.”

It was my turn to gape like a fish, stuttering wildly. “W-what?”

“She wants to see you, hear you, and she said the only way she could was if you attacked her. The Architect told her that those you’ve attacked, like the emissaries whose mana you steal, can see you. She wants you to stab her.”

I stared, open-mouthed, at the ghoul, who nodded firmly at something behind me and to the left. I exchanged looks with Aedan and Alistair, both of whom looked surprised, but not incensed, which surprised me more. I looked at Conrad, who shrugged his shoulders helplessly, and Zevran, whose attempt to conceal a highly amused smirk was entirely unsuccessful. The men holding her at sword-point sheathed their weapons, and Conrad settled back down beside the ghoul, waiting expectantly.

Appalled and horrified, I curled into Alistair’s arms, wrapping my shaking hands around his waist. He wasn’t fooled.

“Love, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“But you think I should?” He hesitated, and I continued. “You all do. You think she has answers she might only give to me. And you’re not wrong. But to stab someone in cold blood?”

“It doesn’t have to be some severe injury,” he countered softly. “A finger prick might be enough, honestly. And if that gives you the chance to find out anything – what he did to you, what other plans he had…how to keep him from hurting anyone else? It might be worth it.”

I squeezed him once, taking comfort from the kiss he pressed to my forehead, and then with a reluctant sigh, disentangled myself to sit in front of Utha.

I took the dagger from her outstretched hand with distaste, although watching her look of fascination as the dagger, from her perspective, disappeared into thin air made me chuff out a strained laugh. I examined the former Warden, looking for signs of reluctance, and saw nothing. She kept her arm – bare to the elbow, blackened skin and all – extended, and so with a sigh, I deliberately drew the point of the blade a few centimetres along the ruined flesh, leaving a thin trail of oozing black ichor as I did.

The look on her face when I suddenly appeared to her was almost comical. She ignored the wound I’d made completely, and I tried not to squirm as her assessing gaze travelled over my seated form. She signed something, and Conrad choked beside me; when I glanced at him, he was nearly purple with suppressed laughter.

I sighed. “What?”

He let out a completely unmanly giggle. “She thought you’d be bigger.”

Aedan and Alistair guffawed behind me as I blushed and rolled my eyes. The ghoul smirked, the effect somewhat hampered by her ghastly complexion and the black circles under her milky eyes, but it made her seem much more human, relaxing me somewhat.

I didn’t know what to do with the dagger I held; I wasn’t about to give it back to the ghoul who I still didn’t entirely trust, but I didn’t want to hold it, either. I set it beside me awkwardly, wiping my hand on the leather of my pants while I thought of what I wanted to ask.

She beat me to it, signing something to Conrad. “She wants to know about...about her friends, I think?”

“Fiona, you mean? Duncan?” She nodded. I continued in a softer voice, “Kell?” I sighed. “Duncan was a thief, you know. He escaped his shackles. He freed the others, and they escaped…but there were too many darkspawn between them and the surface. They’d never have made it. So Kell…he decided to distract the darkspawn, give the others a chance to escape. He ordered them to leave him. He tried to get Hafter to go with them, but he wouldn’t go, so the two of them attacked the darkspawn and then took off, and the ‘spawn chased them. I don’t know exactly,” I winced, “how he died, but there were hundreds of them chasing him.”

She nodded sadly, a lone tear rolling down her cheek. The only possible outcome of that sort of self-sacrifice was obvious, and didn’t need describing.

I cleared my throat and continued more confidently. “Maric, Fiona, and Duncan escaped, only to be captured by Remille, and you saw what happened there. Duncan, well, he had stolen some artifact from Remille before you all went after Bregan, and it protected him – his taint didn’t advance. He died during the Blight, just last year.” I flinched away from that thought, the grief – though no longer raw – still unpleasant. “But…Fiona’s taint, after they escaped…it disappeared, or something. I think it made her like me. She didn’t have to go through her Calling. She’s still alive, somewhere, though if Weisshaupt hasn’t kicked her out of the Wardens yet, they will. And…she had a child. Maric’s child.”

Her eyes were wide, her entire body frozen in shock. _I wonder if it’s entirely due to Fiona’s taint disappearing, or a Grey Warden having a child, or if the identity of the father has anything to do with it._ I was saved from my internal debate about telling her just who that child was by Alistair settling down beside me noisily. 

“I’m that child.” Her gaze roved over his face, recognition obvious in her expression. “Hello, I’m Alistair,” he continued self-consciously as she continued to stare.

She smiled, then, the first real smile I’d seen from her, even if it was sad. She nodded at my husband, then signed something to Conrad.

“You look just like him,” he translated.

Alistair blushed. “So I’ve been told.”

With one last searching look, the ghoul turned back to me. “Would we have lived too?” Conrad translated.

I winced – just who she meant by ‘we’ was obvious, and tragic. “I can’t be sure, obviously – your taint, and Kell’s, was more advanced than Fiona’s – but it seems likely, yes. Assuming you were able to escape, of course.”

“And he knew?” Her gesture at the unconscious former Magister behind me was unnecessary.

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “My knowledge is piecemeal. He was clearly playing with forces he didn’t fully understand.” _Which is probably the motto of his entire long lifespan, honestly – from breaching the Fade up until now._ “We still don’t know anything about what he actually did to me, or what those amulets did to Fiona. No one at Weisshaupt was able to figure it out either, even after studying them for twenty years. So whether he knew the effect could be reversed? No idea, and I don’t fancy waking him up to ask, even if I thought he’d tell us the truth.”

She shook her head, resigned, and irritably wiped away the tear tracks that had formed. _It’s rather surreal to watch a darkspawn cry._

“Do you know what he did to me? Or even why?” I asked once she seemed composed again.

Conrad translated her signs. “No. He sent her away sometimes, to look for things – books, I think? – and what he did to you must have happened one of the times she was away.” He paused while she signed something else, her movements suddenly jerky, like she was irritated. “He knew she wouldn’t agree with it, I think. She always stopped him – wouldn’t allow him to make Broodmothers, or sacrifice people for his plans, or if they were just in his way. She’s realised over the years there were lots of things he either concealed or lied about because he knew she wouldn’t accept them.”

I tugged my braid, disappointed. “What has he been working on, do you know? There’s the plan to put the darkspawn through the Joining with Grey Warden blood…”

Conrad watched her hands, then answered. “That’s the only recent plan she’s aware of. There was the other – to put all people through the Joining to make them Wardens, but even she could see the problem there – too many deaths, and then no babies. And then trying to kill the Archdemons – and we all know how well that worked. But she didn’t know about that until you told her.”

“Are there any more Broodmothers out there? Any more ‘free’ darkspawn?”

She shook her head, almost… sadly? “She killed them all, she says. All of the rest of the Mother’s, and all of the Architect’s. They trusted her, ignored her because she is a ghoul, so she was able to kill them all.”

I reached out and patted her arm, careful to avoid the blood. “Thank you.” She looked at me, perhaps wondering if I was sincere. “Honestly. I don’t…I can’t condone the choice you made. Following him was never a good idea, and it went against everything you were supposed to stand for as a Warden. I think at first you wanted to believe him for your own reasons – maybe you were afraid you’d have to go on your Calling, or you thought it would somehow bring justice to your family if you could accomplish something so important before you died. I don’t know – and then later, well, it was clear he could impair your reasoning, mess with your emotions. But killing them, stopping him – that couldn’t have been easy. So thank you.”

She finally nodded.

I looked up at Aedan, then over to Alistair and Conrad. “So what now? What are we going to do with him?”

Utha signed something. “She says the poison should last a few days, during which he will remain unconscious. She said she has only a little bit more, but if he swallows it he might stay out for a week. After that, her suggestion is we find somewhere to hide him – but not allow anyone near him, not ever. She says that he can influence Wardens like he did her, and shouldn’t be given that opportunity.”

I thought of Corypheus – how the Wardens had tried to do that, had gone to extraordinary lengths to do exactly what she said, and he’d eventually broken free. _But what choice do we have? Killing him isn’t an option either. Maybe Avernus has some ideas._

Thinking about the ancient mage gave me an idea – one I wanted to wait and discuss with Aedan and Alistair alone, well away from Utha or any other Wardens. “I have an idea, but we can talk about it later.” I gave my brother and my husband each a hard look, and they nodded. I turned back to the ghoul in front of me. “And what about you?”

She reached out, making me twitch, but merely picked up the dagger from where I’d set it, and handed it to me again hilt-first. She didn’t sign, didn’t even make eye contact with Conrad or the others, just wrapped my hand around the handle of the dagger and gently pulled my hand toward herself.

I froze, searching the ghoul’s ruined face. The implication was obvious; she wanted me to kill her. _Why me?_ I couldn’t ask, couldn’t even figure out how to verbalise the question. But, I realised as I continued to examine her, she looked tired. Her milky eyes drooped, her hair was patchy and brittle-looking. What little normal skin she had left was wrinkled and spotted, and the corruption of the taint was starting to eat away at her lower lip. I looked away, horrified by what she’d allowed herself to become.

And then it occurred to me: she was probably horrified too. And what else did she have now? Where could she go? She’d betrayed the Order she once stood for, betrayed her only ally in this new disgusting existence; she had no hope now that the Architect’s promise to her would ever be fulfilled. She’d condemned the man she once loved to death at the hands of the darkspawn she’d sworn to fight, and would never be free of that guilt. She had no future, no hope, and I’d seen no sign that darkspawn ever died of natural causes. So she was stuck with this existence, until she either killed herself or went mad and really joined the darkspawn she’d hated for decades.

I tried to put myself in her shoes, and knew without thinking about it, without a doubt, that I’d wish for death too. I risked a glance around me, and saw only expressions of pity and horror on the faces of my friends and family. I knew none of them would expect me to be the one, but looking back at Utha’s face, I could see hope and resignation warring within her, and knew that, with my knowledge, I was the one most likely to understand all of it. 

Through all of my introspection and hesitation, the ghoul merely held my hand, waiting patiently. And in that moment, I was decided. I gripped the dagger for the second time, leaned forward to loom over her, and whispered “Maker forgive you,” loud enough for her to hear it and nod, looking almost hopeful. And then I thrust the dagger up under her ribs like Zevran had taught me, twisting my wrist until I felt a torrent of hot, sticky tainted blood flow down my hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Architect being one of the original magisters who breached the Fade (like Corypheus) was confirmed by David Gaider at some point in an interview...which is close enough to canon for me ;) So it's always made sense to me that killing the Architect just doesn't get us anywhere. And I'm going to assume, by the fact that Corypheus doesn't possess Anders in the DLC that regular Wardens are somehow...not corrupted enough for that, but ghouls - like Larius, and Utha - are. So I'm not really changing anything in canon, just...explaining it better than they did.
> 
> I've been going through a lot of stuff in my personal life lately, and it's made it harder to write. My extensive backlog of finished chapters is whittling down at an alarming rate, and I don't want to decrease how often I post. I am hoping to use NaNoWriMo to motivate me to write - I'm going to try to put 50,000 words on this fic during November. If I can, I'll go back to weekly posting, which would be so sweet! I would greatly appreciate any and all encouragement - in whatever form that takes - to help keep me going. I've made a FaceBook page - please feel free to swing by and say hi there! The page name is ElyssaCousland.


	147. Homecoming

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Seven: *Homecoming

Utha crumpled to the ground, her unblinking eyes open, not even a rasping breath left of her unfortunate life. _Zevran taught me well…but what does that say about me?_ Chaos broke out around me, but I ignored it, settling her body down, closing her eyes, and whispering a sincere prayer to whatever deity might be listening. I looked up for something to cover her with, and found Zevran, an island of calm in the chaos, handing over a length of rough fabric, scavenged from where I couldn’t guess.

The former assassin wore an expression I wasn’t used to – approval, I thought, and not a single trace of a smirk anywhere. He offered me his hand, and I let him haul me to my feet. I felt nothing – just numbness, no remorse or pain, though I suspected those would come later – and I had no desire to deal with everyone else’s reactions, but I had little choice. Everyone around was talking – to each other, at me, to themselves for all I could tell – but they all went suspiciously silent as I stood up. Some part of me feared censure, whether in anger or disgust, but I couldn’t bring myself to worry excessively, and I wasn’t going to justify myself. _It might bother me more later, but what I did was still the right thing._

I finally took a deep breath and looked up. I met Alistair’s concerned gaze, relieved he wasn’t pulling away from me, and forced a reassuring smile for his benefit. He held his arm out for me, and I snuggled up against his side gratefully. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and though I wasn’t entirely clear what he was apologising for, I squeezed 4his waist and waved it away silently.

Aedan studied me, his expression a mix of puzzlement and shock, but he didn’t look angry, so I thought I could live with it. Nate, standing back a bit, met my eyes with a nod and an understanding smile. A dozen other sets of eyes watched me expectantly, but no one spoke. Deciding that nothing I said could make the situation better – _those who understand are already on my side, and those who don’t, aren’t going to listen anyway_ – I cleared my throat and changed the subject.

“How are Solona and Anders?” 

I turned back towards where the two mages lay, surrounded by Wardens and Legionnaires alike. Solona remained unconscious, but her complexion had improved and Trevian sat beside her calmly, so I assumed she was out of danger. Anders, on the other hand, was awake, sitting up with one hand cradling his head, his elbow resting on his bent knee, holding a water skin and watching Solona carefully. Rolan knelt nearby, yet another healing potion in his hand, keeping an eye on both mages.

Seeming to understand that nothing was forthcoming on the topic of the ghoul I’d just killed in cold blood, everyone nearby turned away and got on with the normal post-battle activities. Some started piling darkspawn corpses for burning, while Wulf and Zevran began carefully tying up the Architect, clearly not trusting whatever poison Utha had used. Conrad searched through the small bag Utha had carried, finding a vial of what must have been poison, and little else of value. Oghren and the rest of the Legionnaires continued searching through the Thaig, trying to discern where we were and find anything important of note. It was all just so weirdly _normal_ , and I had to stifle a sudden scream that tried to claw it way out of my chest. _Now I know what Alistair meant when he said he’d scream while at the monastery just to see people react._

After another moment pulling myself together, Aedan, Alistair and I approached the mages carefully.

Anders looked up with a groan as the three of us settled nearby. “Andraste’s Dirty Arsehole, my head hurts.” I chuckled at the crude obscenity, and was pleased to see Rolan do nothing but roll his eyes. “I’m assuming they gave me magebane - I’d heal it myself if I had even a sliver of mana left.” And he was right; I could feel the faint aura of an unconscious Solona, but for all I could tell with my templar senses, he had so little mana he might as well not even be a mage.

“Are you okay? Can you tell us what happened?” Aedan waited until Trevian backed away to ask. My brother appeared to be trying to maintain his patience, but he was clearly as eager to understand as I felt.

Anders sighed. “I supposed you heard about the capture.” He gestured to Rolan, and we nodded. “I was knocked out most of the time, but from the little bit I heard while I was awake, the Architect’s plan was to turn Solona into a Broodmother, hoping that she wouldn’t be stark-raving mad like the Mother.” He looked over at the petite blonde worriedly. “I don’t know what all he’s done to her. I’m hoping she can tell us when she wakes. She doesn’t feel any different, taint-wise I mean.” He grimaced, fingering the bruise on his temple. “I was to be her first…snack. I think he was going to ‘free’ her right away after her transformation, and he thought that my Warden blood would help her stay sane.”

I blanched. _Sweet Jesus. If I could wake the Architect up just so I could stab him again a few times, I would._ Rolan looked positively sick, and I could tell he was blaming himself for the mages being in that position. I was grateful when Sigrun, hovering nearby, put a comforting hand on his shoulder and led him away.

“So…we’re leaving him alive?” Anders’ question interrupted my daydream of dismembering the creature responsible for all of this.

Aedan explained the problem with killing the tainted Magister, and Anders swore again. “Doesn’t that just figure. The person - uh, thing? – that I most want to roast on a spit, and I’m not allowed.”

“And here I thought you preferred lightning, Anders,” I teased, and he smiled weakly.

“Ah, how well you know me.” His smile fell as he looked over at Solona once more. “So what are we going to do with him?” 

Aedan frowned, and I scowled again at the former Magister’s unmoving body. “It’s just like him to leave us with this sort of dilemma,” I groused.

“I’m not aware of any poison that will keep him unconscious forever without killing him. Tying his hands, keeping him prisoner…do you suppose Greagoir might help? The templars must have some way of keeping mages from casting when they’re in the dungeon, right?” Aedan asked, eyeing Anders speculatively.

“There are glyphs written into the walls of the cell – I suppose you might be able to reproduce that somewhere. They usually give us magebane for as long as we’re there, just in case. And there’s hand restraints that prevent casting too. Greagoir _will_ help, whether he likes it or not – the templars owe us,” Anders finished darkly.

Aedan winced. “Anders, I’m sorry. If I’d thought for a minute…”

The mage waved his hand negligently. “Not your fault. We all knew Rolan had issues, and that there were going to be some in the Chantry less than happy about the new mage freedoms and replacing the Grand Cleric. I’m just glad Rolan and Conrad came for us – I think we’d have been in much worse shape otherwise. The templars didn’t have a chance to do anything to Sol or me because they were frantic that Rolan had left…and I saw him standing over us after Solona was knocked out and I ran out of mana, defending us against the darkspawn. I won’t forget, but I think I can forgive, in time.”

We all stood silently for a moment, absorbed in our own thoughts. Finally Alistair cleared his throat. “So we’re taking the Architect to the Circle? I feel like that’s…that’s not a good idea, is it?”

I stood up and shook my head. “I don’t think so. But maybe some of us could go, ask Irving and Greagoir for some help? I have some thoughts I want to discuss later, but I’m thinking the best thing we can do with the Architect is take him to Soldier’s Peak.”

Aedan nodded. “That’s my thought too. It seems that our darkspawn problems around Amaranthine should be done; perhaps we should split up? I want Rolan, Anders, Solona – once she wakes – Conrad, Zev, and I to go to the Circle. Greagoir needs to be informed what happened, and he’ll want to hear it from Conrad and Rolan directly; there’s also help available there if Solona requires further healing or…something.” He winced.

I reached out and sensed Solona through the taint; she didn’t feel any different than usual, so I hoped that whatever the Architect had done to her left no permanent damage. Her mana was regenerating as well, according to my templar abilities. I hoped she’d wake soon so she could tell us what had happened.

“Did you learn anything about Faren’s poison?” Alistair asked while I was woolgathering. I wanted to kick myself; in the chaos, I’d almost forgotten why the mages had been on the road to be ambushed in the first place.

Anders’ eyes lit up. “I think so! It will take some testing, but I found some information that might help. One of the Tranquil is a talented alchemist. There’s some papers in my…damn. Anyone seen my pack?”

We all shook our heads, and Anders slumped. “Maker’s hairy chest, all of that writing for nothing. Well, if I’m going back to the Circle, I can find it all again. The good news is that if the poison is what I think it is, nothing bad will happen because of the delay. As long as we can keep him fed, I think I can eventually wake him up.”

I smiled, feeling truly hopeful for the first time in a while.

“So you’re going to the Circle. I’m thinking the rest of us should escort the Architect to the Peak – and we should both borrow some troops from Arl Nathaniel, just in case,” Alistair suggested.

“And perhaps you can bring Faren to the Peak with you as well. We will head there immediately from the Circle with whatever help Irving or Greagoir can provide, get the Architect settled somehow, and then relocate more permanently.”

“The question remains, though: how are we going to move the Architect safely?”

Zevran and Conrad joined us, apparently satisfied with whatever they’d done to the Architect. “I think, _amore mio_ , that we should just be able to put him on a cart. We’ve got lots of empty carts, since we’ve used so many supplies, yes? Conrad found a vial of the poison Utha used, which evidently should keep him unconscious for a week. And you should be able to keep an eye on his mana, _mia sorella_ , no? Though what we do with him once the poison wears off, I don’t know. If he were human, I’d have some idea what to give him, but I’m not sure anything I came up with would work on a darkspawn.”

I nodded, sighing. _I’m reasonably well-rested; I guess a few days without sleep won’t kill me._ “We will figure something out. For now, personally, I’d like to get out of here. I imagine there’s a few others who feel the same. Why don’t we camp outside, and we can all leave early tomorrow.” 

Everyone agreed, and we began organising everything so we could leave. Nate had helpfully stayed away from what he recognised were ‘Warden matters’, and it took little for him to get the troops moving. Zevran dosed the Architect, and had a small cart carefully brought down into the Thaig, where the darkspawn could be loaded and covered; he and Conrad supervised a team of soldiers to work on maneuvering the cart back up the long ramp to the outside. The dwarves, ever resourceful, had found some kerosene or oil of some sort abandoned in one of the nearby buildings, and the darkspawn corpses, including Utha, were piled for burning. 

“We’ll come back here,” Trevian declared. “There’s another tunnel out the back, and I’d like to see where it leads. The assembly will be pleased if we can reclaim this and Kal’Hirol – might even get me some more funding, and some new recruits.” He grimaced, and we all winced sympathetically. _New recruits are just more people for him to watch die._ I sighed. There was nothing I could do about it, no matter how awful. The Legion Commander formed up his troops and they headed outside, one of them frantically scribbling map markings on a large piece of parchment as they went. 

Anders levered himself up onto his long, unsteady legs, and graciously accepted Rolan’s help in wrapping Solona up in a blanket and gently lifting her. The templar refused the offer of a cart, and with Anders hovering protectively over his shoulder, carried the petite mage down the hallway towards the exit. 

I watched Utha’s corpse burn, feeling sadness and despair nibbling at the edges of the cloak of numbness I’d pulled around my feelings; I shook myself, took Alistair’s offered hand, and was the last one to leave the old abandoned Thaig to darkness. 

The darkness persisted; to my amazement, an entire day had been lost to the Deep Roads, and it was pitch black outside, broken up only by the torches and campfires of the camp we shared with Nate’s troops and the Legionnaires. It was a rare night without either of Thedas’ two moons in the sky, and I sat quietly watching the stars as I ate a hurried supper of jerky, cheese, and dried bread. 

Convinced that the Architect would sleep for at least a few days – and reassured by Zevran’s confidence that he’d added enough magebane to the poison to knock out three emissaries – I collapsed into a tent with Alistair immediately after supper. He said nothing, just held me quietly as the shakes took me; I finally fell asleep, fully clothed, in his arms. 

The next morning, myself, Alistair, Wulf, Oghren, Sigrun, Justice, and Alim accompanied Nate back towards Vigil’s Keep. We’d decided to stop there for one night and retrieve Faren (and hopefully Seranni and Velanna) before heading to Soldier’s Keep. 

“We’ll keep him in the Deep Roads,” I’d said to Aedan and Alistair about the Architect before we left. “There’s that chamber where someone was doing ‘research’ or whatever – we can build a cell for him there, keep him guarded until we decide what to do with him.” I’d pulled them both aside, asking Zevran to help make sure we weren’t overheard. 

“And don’t tell anyone,” Aedan had cautioned. “I think we should keep the location under wraps – the last thing we need is an escape or some sort of rescue from an intelligent darkspawn Utha missed. The fewer people who know, the less chance of anyone else finding out.” 

Alistair had nodded. “I’m thinking we will set up a fake prison somewhere else, tell everyone that’s where he’s being kept. You said there’s no dungeon, Sierra?” 

“Not that we’d found before I left, but there were dozens of hallways blocked with junk. Who knows what Levi’s found by now? However, maybe we could tell everyone we’re keeping him in Avernus’ tower. Tell everyone Avernus is helping to guard, being a blood mage and all. At least when I was there, Jowan was the only other one who ever went up there.” 

And so it was that the group of Wardens surrounded a borrowed, covered cart dragged by borrowed oxen, driven by some of Nate’s troops, as we headed north. 

Solona had yet to wake, when we’d left; bowing to inevitability, Rolan had conceded he wouldn’t be able to carry the mage all the way to the Circle. Aedan and his group had borrowed another of the army’s carts and were heading towards Kinloch Hold. We hoped they would meet up with us at Soldier’s Peak in ten days, barring major complications. 

Getting back to the Vigil took us less than the two full days we’d needed to get to the Tarcaisne Ridge; the weather had held, the ground was less muddy, and the carts were much lighter than they’d been going the other direction. We made it to Vigil’s Keep in the afternoon of the second day, to see a very relieved Seneschal Varel, and the worried faces of two Dalish elves. Alistair briefed Seranni and Velanna on what had happened – leaving out much about the Architect, Utha, and what we planned – while Nate and I updated Varel. 

“The darkspawn attacks should stop, or at least slow,” I assured him. “The intelligent darkspawn are, we believe, all dead. Once we deal with a few things and get settled in at Soldier’s Peak, we will keep patrols going across Amaranthine for a while to make sure. I’d recommend keeping some of the soldiers doing the same; I know you want to release them all back to their lives, but there must be some who’d prefer to stay. I’m sure I can convince the King of the need, if you would like me to ask.” 

“He’s already approved increasing the size of the standing army and using them for patrols and defense, here and in the bannorn,” Nate assured me. “I’ll ask for volunteers, but considering most of them were farmers before, we will need most of these people to go home if we want the harvest brought in before the first real cold spell. I’ve got this.” He smiled at me, and I nodded in appreciation. _Not having to deal with us will make his life easier, and I can’t deny I’m looking forward to just being at the Peak with my Wardens and not a lot of other immediate worries. After we deal with the Architect, of course._

My thoughts had affected my expression, and Nate examined my frown uneasily. “Sierra?” 

I shook my head and plastered a smile back on. _Not telling Nate everything is the right thing to do, but it does make it harder on me._ “All good. I’m sure you want to go see Velanna and Seranni – and I want a bath. Goodnight, gentlemen.” 

The architect had shown no sign of regaining any of his mana, nor had he stirred in the two days of travel; I knew I’d start feeling less certain about leaving him unattended soon, but I was hoping for one more night’s sleep first. After checking in on Faren – unchanged, and being fussed over by Sigrun – I headed to the room I shared with my husband. Alistair found me a short time later drowsing in the bathtub; he helped me out, encouraging me to go to bed while he had a quick wash. I was still awake when he was finished, curled up in bed and staring at the ceiling tiredly. 

He pulled me into his arms, and I groaned as his clean, male scent washed over me. “Distract me?” I whispered, and felt him hum in the affirmative even as he claimed my lips in a soft kiss. 

I kissed him back, the feel of his stubble rasping against my chin and his chest hair against my sensitive nipples as he rolled on top of me spiking my arousal; I went from sleepy to randy in mere seconds, and was suddenly not content with his gentleness as he sucked my lower lip and hovered over me, weight on his elbows. _I want him – here, now, and hard._ I reached – one hand down to grip his gorgeous, toned ass, the other to grab a handful of his scruffy blond hair – and yanked him closer to me, taking advantage of his gasp to stroke my tongue into his mouth, tangling with his aggressively. 

I could feel his erection trapped between us, pressing against my belly, and I bucked underneath him, trying to wriggle it into the gap between my thighs. Surprised, he tried to pull back, and I knew he’d be worrying about hurting me – but I wasn’t having any of that. I bit his lower lip sharply, and he cried out; I wrapped one leg around him, hooking my heel behind his thigh, and then pushed with the other leg, knocking him onto his back with me straddling his hips. 

Finally getting the picture, I felt one of Alistair’s powerful hands slide into my hair and drag me down, capturing my lips in a heated kiss while my tongue vied with his for dominance. I took advantage of his distraction by wriggling my pelvis, capturing his length along my wet slit and grinding against him as I tried to get him sheathed inside me. The friction of his erection against my vulnerable core set off sparks inside me, and I moaned into his mouth, reaching down with one hand to try to position him where I needed him. 

Lightning fast he grabbed my wrist, and I felt him chuckle as I whined in frustration. I ground myself against him again, relishing his hiss, only to gasp as he quickly grabbed my other wrist, transferred both into one of his strong hands, and used his other to crush my pelvis to him, preventing me from achieving my goal or teasing us both further. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing, little minx?” he demanded, his grin ruining the serious, disapproving expression he was going for. 

I struggled against him unsuccessfully, once, unable to get any satisfaction for my aching breasts or my dripping sex as he held me taut between his hands, and I kicked my feet uselessly behind me. Giving up, I slumped in his grasp and decided to beg instead. 

“Please,” I gasped, shimmying slightly to make my breasts wobble in his face, as enticingly as I could manage. “I need…I want…oh, please, don’t tease me. I don’t want gentle. Please, just…” 

Flushed with arousal, he smirked at me mischievously. “What do you want, my love?” _Zevran would be so impressed with him right now._

I closed my eyes, embarrassed as always by the prospect of saying the words, of asking for what I wanted. “Please…” I tried again, trying one more time to wriggle my hips. 

“Please what? I will give you anything you ask for, Sierra. What do you want?” 

I opened my eyes again, scowling at the mirth in his voice, desperate and needy and _angry_ that he was taking so much joy in teasing me. “Fuck me, you colossal ass,” I spat out. “Stop fucking around and take me!” 

He groaned, as usual turned on as much by my dirty talk as he was by the thought of the act itself. “Your desire is my command, my love.” 

And then I found myself suddenly being pulled by the arms, one of Alistair’s hands lifting my pelvis, and before I could react I was on my knees and elbows on the bed, ass in the air, Alistair behind me with his hands on my waist. I felt something warm and impressively firm nudge my opening from behind, and then I was crying out as he sank into me in one fell swoop. 

“Like this?” he demanded, pausing once fully sheathed to allow me to adjust to his thickness stretching me deliciously. “Is this what you want?” 

I pushed with my arms, grinding my ass back against him and encouraging him on. “Yesss,” I hissed, squeezing my internal pelvic muscles to caress his length. He groaned, and then he was finally giving me what I needed, deep firm thrusts, driving himself in and out of me with abandon, pounding into me while I gripped his pillow and did my best to push back against him. “Don’t stop,” I commanded breathlessly. 

Alistair cursed and curled forward over my back, one hand questing down to tease my button with dexterous fingers, the other arm wrapping around my shoulders, lifting my chin to give him access to my neck and ear. He tortured my sensitive earlobe with his teeth while he drove both of us closer and closer to completion. “Come for me, Sierra,” he whispered, voice husky and hoarse with lust and effort. As his teeth delved into the place where my neck and shoulder met, his fingers pinched one nipple and attacked my pearl, and I shrieked and came, slamming back against him again and again as my orgasm overwhelmed me and the world greyed out. There was only his voice, his fingers, his length, and the feeling of warmth as he shuddered and spilled inside me. 

After an eternity, when I started recovering my breath and my wits, I was kneeling in his lap, leaning back against his chest, his arms the only thing preventing me from collapsing bonelessly on my face. My head lolled on his shoulder as he pressed gently kisses to my jaw, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, do you know that? I’m never going to get enough of you. You’ve ruined me.” He didn’t sound particularly upset by it. 

“Me? Ha. I thought this insatiable need was supposed to wear off. Everyone on Earth says married couples hardly have sex. But you…even now, I can’t move, but if you asked me to go again, I’d find a way.” 

He groaned, and I felt his length twitch, making both of us shiver involuntarily. “You can’t just _say_ that sort of thing to me,” he complained. “Some unnamed part of me is going to take it as a challenge.” 

I giggled, and felt his chest rumble with a chuckle. I shuddered as he slipped out of me, and both of us collapsed forward onto the bed, rolling until we laid facing each other, legs intertwined, my head on his shoulder. He interlaced his fingers with mine and pulled my hand up to kiss my fingertips. I snuggled in as close as I could, trying to use the sunshine sensation radiating from him to banish the dark thoughts that recurred every time I wasn’t actively distracted by something else. 

It didn’t work. 

“I killed her,” I finally whispered, burying my face in his chest. 

“I know.” He tightened his arm around me, offering silent support as he waited for me to go on. 

“It was the right thing to do.” 

“Yes,” he agreed. 

“Her life was awful. And she did terrible things. And letting her go would have made her suffer more, and put others at risk.” 

“I know,” he assured me. 

I hesitated. “I don’t even feel awful. What does it say about me that I can kill someone in cold blood, and not feel anything?” 

“Oh, Sierra.” He sighed. “All it says is you’ve seen too much, and you’ve been forced to re-examine your priorities. It’s normal, not that I expect that to make you feel better. I wish I could have protected you from this. There’s nothing I can say that’s going to make this alright. It’s going to take time. Just keep in mind...no one blames you. No one is angry. You really did the right thing. And…I love you.” 

I nodded, unable to respond, and wiped an errant tear off my cheek. Alistair just held me close, humming softly under his breath, until I fell asleep feeling warm and safe and loved.

The next morning, it took us a few hours to pack what we needed, arrange Faren comfortably in a cart –the Architect uncomfortably tied up in another, and the eluvian well-padded in a third – and settle affairs with Nate, Varel, and Trevian. 

Alistair reiterated his promise to Trevian to help them retake Kal’Hirol and the Thaig in the Tarcaisne ridge once we were settled. The Legion were planning to return to Orzammar – through some better-known tunnels evidently mapped by Shale and Caridin in their search for golems – and promised to send word when they would be back in the area. 

Velanna had negotiated a treaty between her former clan and Nathaniel that would benefit both; Nate would allow them some land in the more heavily wooded areas in the Wending Wood, and they would monitor for darkspawn and trade with the Arling at supervised sites under the protection of Amaranthine’s enlarged guard. Velanna and Seranni were to accompany us, and Velanna would undergo her Joining once Aedan met us there. 

And Varel promised to send me more books and information on protocols, politics, and anything else he thought I still needed to know as Steward of Soldier’s Peak. _Oh joy, I can’t wait!_

Finally though we were all set. We bid goodbye to the Legion, and I was surprised to realise how sad I actually felt at the separation. Sigrun seemed to be handling it well, though I caught her hugging Trevian a little too tightly, making the Commander bluster and roll his eyes – and hug her back just as tightly, I noticed. 

“Take care of yourself, lass.” He bowed to me formally, his seriousness belied by his wide grin and a wink. “You keep all them Wardens on their toes, you hear?” 

I grinned and waved, turning to Nathaniel. If I felt sad at leaving the Legionnaires behind, I felt worse at leaving Nate. 

“Come visit, okay? I’ll show you around exciting Soldier’s Keep. Levi assures me we have guest quarters adequately furnished and everything.” He promised, and then offered me his hand to shake. I ignored it, and pulled him into a hug. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” 

I heard him chuckle. “I’ll manage, your Highness. I’ve been alone before, and supposedly I was raised for this.” I stuck my tongue out at him, and he grinned. His smile faded slowly, and I knew he was thinking of Leliana. 

“She’ll be back. You’ll see.” 

He nodded half-heartedly, and I squeezed his hand. “And I’ll be waiting,” he muttered, forcing his lips back into a smile. “Travel safe.” 

When everyone else’s goodbyes had been said, with a last wave at Nate and Trevian, I climbed up into the cart holding the Architect, settled myself in a nest of cushions I’d made to try and stay comfortable, and we headed away from Vigil’s Keep to begin our new lives at Soldier’s Peak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> As always, I don't own Dragon Age. A million thanks to my fabulous betas - Kira Tamarion and Melysande.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who sent reviews and PMs. You guys are the best!
> 
> If you're interested, take a look at my new one-shot "Is This What You Want?" It isn't from this universe - it's an alternate, with PWP Ali/Zev smut, because apparently my muse didn't want to write TABA last week.
> 
> I've been working on writing - I'm trying to do a modified NaNoWriMo, not writing a stand-alone novel but instead adding as many words as I can (probably not 50k, but I'll try) to this fic (unless my muse goes somewhere else again!). 
> 
> Oh, and welcome to everyone who's popped onto Facebook to say hello. I'm (slowly) figuring out this technology thing...sad, really. I'm not that old.
> 
> I can't believe it. It's been almost exactly 4 years since I started posting TABA, and it's been an amazing 4 years! To everyone who's followed since near the beginning - thank you! And to those of you who are new, welcome!


	148. Relocation

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Eight: Relocation

 

The ride to Soldier’s Peak started out fairly easy. We had a large contingent of soldiers accompanying us, enough bodies that the usual dangers of the road – bandits, wild animals, darkspawn – left us entirely alone. We had several carts – some loaded with supplies for the Peak, some with food and tents for the trip, and the last three with Faren, the eluvian, and the Architect.

I rode with the Architect, to my dismay. It made sense – someone needed to be in the cart to keep a physical eye on him as well as monitor his mana, and I was the most capable of managing it if there was a problem – but I’d never enjoyed riding in carts. The roads in Ferelden were, as a whole, poorly maintained and bumpy, and shock absorbers didn’t really exist in Thedas. There wasn’t room at the front to sit with the driver – and I’d have lost line of sight – and the bed of the cart was plain, flat wood. By mid-day on the first day of travel, my butt was sore, and it only got worse from there. I couldn’t find a comfortable position, couldn’t pad the small seating area I had well enough to cushion the bumps, and with no one to talk to and nothing to do, I had nothing to distract me from my physical discomfort.

The nights weren’t much better; with only Alistair and I having any sort of templar abilities, one of us had to be awake at all times to monitor the Architect. Because despite Utha’s poison and enough magebane to keep ten mages incapacitated, on the second day of travel, the Architect’s mana had begun to recover. He was still comatose, but there was no denying that he would be a risk the moment he awoke – and he was starting to get restless, twitching and rolling in his sleep. So I spent my uncomfortable days slowly gathering up the mana as it built, keeping the tainted magister from being able to cast if he gained consciousness – and most of the night, too. I’d catch only a few hours of desperately needed sleep while Alistair held the mana, and it became obvious after a couple of nights that it wasn’t going to last; Alistair was capable of locking off perhaps half of the mana that I was able to hold, and we were rapidly approaching the limits of his ability.

The trip – slow, as we moved with so many carts – was expected to take seven days; by the fifth day, we could no longer risk transferring the Architect’s mana to Alistair for me to get some sleep. Magebane was no longer working, and only some concoction Zevran had given us kept the creature from being fully awake. The only good thing about being forced to stay awake was that it got me some company – the others, including Alistair, Avanna, Oghren, Wulf, Alim, Seranni, and Velanna took turns riding in the cart with me, trying to help me keep alert. Justice stayed away, to my relief – my discomfort with the spirit-possessed Warden wasn’t well-hidden, and everyone seemed to agree wordlessly that trapping me in a cart with him would be cruel and unusual punishment. And Sigrun refused to leave Faren’s side. _I wonder if she’s as uncomfortable in that cart as I am in this one._

As tired as I was, I enjoyed the chance to catch up with some of my friends who I saw frequently but didn’t get to speak to in any depth very often anymore, and also to get to know Seranni and Velanna better. Oghren was looking forward to seeing Felsi – who had agreed to run the tavern at Soldier’s Peak once it was ready – and hadn’t had to be reminded to wash in weeks. Wulf was missing Kallian, though he was looking forward to establishing something resembling a normal routine once we were settled. Alim had questions – about Earth, my abilities, about what I knew of the coming events in Thedas and my impression of what the changes I had wrought would mean. _Not that I have many answers!_ And Seranni and Velanna – who still knew little of my background – told me about their clan, about their experiences with humans prior to meeting us, and their thoughts on Nate and the new treaty between the Dalish and Amaranthine. Alistair just held me while we daydreamed about our future together.

By the time we reached the opening to the mining tunnels that would bring us to the Peak, I was exhausted. I had no choice though – the tunnels were too narrow for two oxen to draw the carts; we had to unload them as much as possible and hitch just one ox to each – so I had to walk. As the only one of us who’d been to the Peak in many months, I took the lead, dragging myself up the inclines and adding more layers of clothing as the air grew colder. We ran into a patrol, and they ran ahead to inform Levi that we were on our way up.

There were places we had to unhitch the carts and pull them by hand up steep inclines and around tight corners; it took twice as long to get through the mines than normal, and I was barely upright by the time we finally exited the tunnels. It was dark outside, and I took a look around to see welcoming bonfires burning in the courtyard and Levi, Mhairi, Bel, Loghain, and Jowan waiting for us on the steps to the Keep, a group of my soldiers standing in formation at the bottom.

The old wooden structures had been completely torn down and construction on the tavern was underway; it was so cold in the courtyard that I wondered how the workmen got anything done, although I did see several enormous braziers that could be moved around to provide warmth. The chimney from Mikhael’s forge puffed thick grey smoke, and torches lined the courtyard to provide more light. All I could smell was smoke, but as stifling as that was, I was still grateful because it did provide noticeable heat compared to the chill inside the mining tunnels.

I tried to pull myself together to acknowledge the people waiting for us, to begin making arrangements, but I was just too tired; I staggered toward them and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at them vaguely, rubbing my red, dry eyes. Jowan took one look at me and cast some sort of rejuvenation spell; it couldn’t take away my fatigue, but it sort of…faded, somehow, felt more distant and unreal than it had, and I felt better able to cope. I smiled at him gratefully and took a deep breath, looking over to where Levi and Loghain stood talking to my husband.

I’d missed Alistair’s initial greetings with the folk from the Peak – from the sympathetic looks I drew, I gathered that he’d made excuses of some sort and I was forgiven for my weary appearance and lack of manners. I smiled tiredly and went over to curl myself under Alistair’s arm. Loghain said something about a letter, and I guessed Aedan had written them from the Circle; I was grateful, not only for the confirmation that my brother was safe, but also because it meant we were expected and some arrangements had been made. It hadn’t even occurred to me to send a message, because from Amaranthine we’d have arrived shortly behind any courier and it wasn’t worth it. _I suppose Aedan sent the message by bird – I’ve never figured out how those birds work. Someday I’ll take the time to learn._

Between Alistair, Loghain, Levi, and Mhairi, they started calling out orders, and the soldiers began unpacking the supplies off the carts. A stretcher was brought to carry Faren into the Keep, and the eluvian, covered with thick blankets, was lifted and taken in as well. Only once most of the people had dispersed to do their assigned tasks was a second stretcher loaded with the Architect, and Alistair and Loghain carried it inside, me trailing behind them with Jowan at my side.

We took him up into Avernus’ tower; not only would it perpetuate the rumour that he was being kept up there, but it would allow me to stay inside the Keep – rather than the Deep Roads – until Aedan arrived, hopefully with help in tow, to build a cell to contain the Architect. We planned to sneak him down into the ‘research facility’ we’d found inside the Deep Roads once we had everything prepared. In the meantime I’d have Jowan and Avernus, in addition to Alistair, to help me keep an eye on the Architect and ensure he didn’t wake up.

“Sierra?” Jowan whispered to me, once we were alone and halfway up the tower stairs. “Are you alright?”

I sighed. “Just tired. Have to stay awake to keep from letting go of his mana.” I wasn’t really sure how much Jowan knew about what had happened to me when Faren and I had been captured by the Architect; I thought he might have helped with my rescue, but given that I’d been in a magic-induced sleep for days after we’d been freed, I couldn’t be certain. “I’ll live. I’ve done it before, and Aedan should be here in the next day or two. Thanks for the help, though. I feel much better now.”

He grimaced. “You’re going to pay for it later, just so you know. I can’t prevent the effects of sleep deprivation, just…delay them a bit. Not even Anders can make it so you don’t need to sleep at all.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” I grumbled. Jowan’s eyes widened, and I took pity on him. “It’s a joke. Once he’s safely contained,” I corrected. “Don’t worry.”

We finally made it to the top of the tower, and the Architect was left tied up on a makeshift bedroll in a small storage closet; Jowan brought me a chair to sit on outside the door, and I collapsed into it gratefully. That’s where I was – with Alistair holding my hand and Loghain eyeing me speculatively – when Avernus shuffled into the room from his lab.

I was shocked at the ancient mage’s appearance when he came through the door. I had known that Avernus was old, but the last I’d seen him, he didn’t really look it. His age had been impossible to guess at, with no hair, wrinkled skin, and yet a sense of vitality that radiated from him, but all that had changed in the months since I’d seen him last. His skin looked sallow, his eyes sunken and dull; he didn’t seem to have that inner fire anymore, and he stood stooped, holding a cane for support, liver spots on most of his exposed skin. I glanced at Jowan, who watched the old man sadly, and had a sudden insight; _Avernus is dying, and Jowan knows it._ The younger mage nodded miserably at the look on my face, before seeming to shake himself and go over to offer Avernus his shoulder to lean on.

“I’m most curious to see this creature you’ve brought here.” Even his voice was old, scratchy and weak compared to his previous almost too-loud boom. “Sierra’s told me a bit about it, but I never thought I’d see it with my own eyes.”

“Aedan sent us a coded letter telling us about it – the poison and everything,” Jowan murmured. “We’ve been working on a solution, something to keep it contained.”

“Nothing we can do till the templars arrive,” Avernus scolded Jowan, “so no use getting their hopes up. But I have some ideas for after.”

Jowan frowned, and I gathered he hadn’t shared his ideas with the younger man. _That doesn’t give me much confidence in his plans! Here’s hoping Aedan finds some help at the Circle._ “In the meantime, we can keep it unconscious – Aedan sent the recipe for the potion Zevran recommended – and they should be here soon.”

I sighed and settled more comfortably in my chair. “I’d give almost anything for a real cup of coffee – or a coke.” 

“Can we see it?” A little bit of the elderly mage’s former enthusiasm crept back into his voice, and Jowan smiled fondly down at the old man. 

Alistair rolled his eyes and gestured at the door. “Be my guest.”

I stayed in the hallway as the two mages went inside; I could hear murmured conversation, though I didn’t care enough to pay attention to the specific words. I felt their magic flare as the two probed at the former magister, but chose to ignore it when there was no response from the prisoner.

Alistair knelt at my side. “I have to go check on _things_ ,” he said, and I knew he meant Faren, the other Wardens, as well as the eluvian, “but Jowan will stay here with you, okay? And I’ll be back in a little while.”

I smiled and stroked his cheek with my thumb, my fingers cupping his jaw. “I’m fine. Make my apologies to Levi and the others, would you? I’ll have to deal with them and any issues afterwards. I’ll be fine here.”

“Nonsense,” Loghain interjected. “How far away can you be and still maintain…” he gestured vaguely at the door, “this?”

“Dunno. Never tried being more than a few rooms away.”

“Well, you don’t have to sit out here in the hallway, at least. I’ll help keep watch on the creature; why don’t you use that little sitting room for now?” He nodded at the room where I’d slept when I first came to the Peak and had to wait for the others to arrive. “We can even have a bath brought up.”

I almost groaned aloud at the thought of a bath. “Sounds good.”

“Once I’m back, perhaps?” Alistair suggested. 

I raised my eyebrows skeptically. _I’m normally pretty easy to convince but if he thinks he’s getting lucky while I’m exhausted and having to keep my concentration focused on the bloody Architect, he’s got another thing coming._

He smirked at me, like he’d guessed where my thoughts had gone. “Just to make sure you don’t fall asleep in the tub, love.”

I sighed and nodded, hauled myself to my feet, and plodded into the little sitting room to collapse on the couch moodily and focus on trying to remain alert.

Jowan joined me after a while, and kept me awake by grilling me about everything that had happened – Seranni and Vander’s Joinings, Justice, my capture by the Architect, Faren’s health, the fight against the Mother, Utha, and taking the Architect prisoner. He was appalled that Anders and Solona had been captured initially by templars and then by darkspawn – apparently Aedan had left out those details – and I could see him stressing about his friends. He and Solona were close, I knew, and I worried what would happen when the blood mage ran into Rolan again – but that was a problem for later. 

“Avernus isn’t well.” It wasn’t really a question; the truth of it was obvious.

Jowan sighed. “No. He denies it, stubborn old coot, but he’s getting weaker. You saw.” His voice cracked slightly, and he looked away, embarrassed. “He’s an odd one, but he’s been like a mentor to me. Took me under his wing and taught me a lot of things – not just blood magic, either. In the Circle, unless you were something of a prodigy – like Sol, or Anders – you were more-or-less left to your own devices. Basic classes didn’t get you very far, and if you didn’t stand out, no one thought to mentor you. Solona had Irving, and Anders had the healers fighting each other to work with him. I didn’t have anyone. If I’d had teaching then like I have here…well, things might have turned out differently.” I knew he was thinking about Lily, but he cleared his throat and changed the subject before I could respond. “Anyway, I’m going to miss him.”

I patted his shoulder sympathetically. “I hope that the changes in the Circle mean more young mages will get the help they need. If they do it right…well, maybe escaping won’t be necessary for anyone anymore.” I looked down, avoiding his eyes. “For what it’s worth…I’m sorry.” I hoped he knew I meant it for more than just Avernus’ impending loss.

He nodded stoically, and we lapsed into a brief silence. 

“Is Solona really okay?”

I frowned. I still didn’t know what had happened to the poor girl while the Architect had held her, and at night in my dreams, my imagination had been active presenting one horrific scenario after another. “I don’t know. She was still unconscious when we left, and Anders hadn’t seen what was done to her. She didn’t…look different, and the Wardens said she still felt normal, so…”

He smirked at me. “The ‘Wardens’ said that, did they?”

I scowled and he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Don’t worry about it. I know nothing, and I’d never say anyway.” I believed him, and smiled gratefully.

“So we really can’t kill him?” he finally asked of the Architect. 

“No. Utha implied that he was similar to an Archdemon – his soul could skip to the nearest tainted creature, and from what I have guessed about one of the other magisters I’d heard of, Corypheus, it could even be a Warden if their taint was advanced enough – he’d just take over instead of being destroyed.”

Jowan shuddered. “So this Corypheus was kept imprisoned using blood magic?”

I sighed. “Yeah, and the problem was that it weakened over time, and could be undone by the blood of a close enough relative. Do you know anything about magic like that?”

He shook his head. “What little I know of blood magic I learned from a book – and I have no intention of making a deal with a demon to learn more. I wouldn’t be surprised if Avernus knows something that might help, though. He’s not exactly been shy around demons in the past.”

I nodded. “Any issues lately?”

“No. He’s been getting so weak…I’m not sure that doing much in the way of blood magic now wouldn’t kill him. But maybe he can teach me and I can do it.” His expression was worried.

I reached out to squeeze his hand briefly. “Not if it’s bad for you – even if just mentally. You don’t need to put yourself at risk for this. We’ll figure something out.”

He nodded and lapsed into silence. Alistair arrived – with a small copper bathtub being dragged behind him, helped by one of the servants Levi had hired but I hadn’t met yet. Jowan and the servant left, and as my husband filled the tub, I stripped and climbed in gratefully. 

“There’s nothing better than a bath.” The tub was small, and I huddled in it, enjoying the warmth before reaching for the soap. Alistair carefully washed and rinsed my hair for me, and I piled it on top of my head to just sit in the warm water and relax for a few minutes – until I felt my eyelids droop. Alistair handed me a warm towel and laid out some comfortable trousers and a warm woven shirt, and I braided my wet hair up. We ate cold meats and cheese for a late supper, and I settled in for a long, tiring wait.

The next two days, while we waited for Aedan and the others to arrive – and struggled to keep the Architect sedated and unable to cast – were horrible. By the end of the third day without sleep, I was so tired that the hallucinations came back; Alistair was usually able to break me out of them, but the feeling of distance from reality was distressing. _It isn’t as bad as when I was being held by the Architect – at least I have food and water, and someone to help me through it – but it’s no picnic!_ Alim and Jowan both tried a variety of rejuvenation and healing spells; they helped keep me from falling asleep, but did nothing to keep me anchored to reality. My stomach rebelled, cramping and leaving me nauseated and unsettled. Alistair barely left my side, often holding me in his lap when he was awake to help me stay calm; he left only to sleep, and then only for as little time as I’d let him get away with.

Which was probably why he was the first one to notice when something went wrong another day later.

“Love?”

I twitched, having been technically awake but completely zoned out and daydreaming wildly in his lap. “Hmm?”

“Why are my pants wet?” He lifted me, glancing down, and his face blanched whiter than parchment. “Oh, Maker…Sierra?”

Confused, I struggled to my feet and looked down to see my husband’s lap covered in blood. It took much longer than it should have to make the connection and check my own pants – _yep, also drenched in blood_ – and realise that the blood was actually coming from me, not him. 

_Well, that explains the cramps, then._ Although when I thought about it, I hadn’t really had any major cramping since I’d been treated for my ‘girl problem’ by Anders over a year ago – my periods had been light and painless. _Maybe stress?_

I flushed belatedly, mortified. “Oh, Maker, I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting…” I turned and fled, running into the nearest bathroom – basically a room with a chamber pot and a window – which happened to be doubling as my temporary quarters. I stripped off my pants and smalls, grimacing at the amount of blood evident there, and sank onto the chamber pot with a cloth, basin and my showerhead nearby so I could get cleaned up. And after a few moments, I was still sitting there as I was wracked with worsening cramps.

“Sierra?” 

I heard Alistair nudge open the door, and embarrassed, I threw a towel over my lap before he could see me. I looked up to see his concerned face peeking through the door; he blanched again when he noticed my destroyed clothes, and came inside, shutting the door carefully behind himself. 

“Are you okay? Is this…normal?” he asked carefully, obviously afraid I’d be offended by the questions. _Not like I haven’t been irritable as hell the last few days – I can’t really blame him for being cautious._

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, groaning as another wave of cramps overtook me. 

He rushed over and knelt in front of me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling my head to rest on his shoulder. I drooped in his embrace, horribly embarrassed but so grateful that he was there and wasn’t too disgusted to comfort me. And while he held me, I tried to think.

_When was my last period, anyway?_ I considered, and decided that it had happened the last time I was at Soldier’s Peak. Which was…I did some rapid math on my fingers, checking the numbers once, and then again, and again. _Sonofa…that was seven weeks ago._

Seven. Weeks.

My period hadn’t been a day late in over a year, nor anywhere near this heavy. 

“Uh, Alistair?” I sat back, lifting the towel to glance down between my legs, shuddering at the amount of blood pooling underneath me. “How long has it been since Denerim?”

He thought about it for a minute. “Seven, eight weeks? Something like that. Why?”

“After we left Denerim…that was the last time I had my monthly. Right after. I remember because the timing seemed so lucky.” I blushed.

He smiled, not enough to erase the worry on his handsome face, but enough to crinkle his eyes a little. “Okay…?”

I sighed. “Do you know how far apart periods…uh, I mean, monthlies normally are for most women?”

The confused look intensified. It would have been adorable if I hadn’t been so scared. _At least I’m not at risk of falling asleep any time soon…_

“Um, fo…four? Weeks?” I nodded, and he contemplated his answer for a moment. I could see the second his confusion turned into something else. “And this has been…seven?” 

I nodded again. He glanced over at my pile of soiled clothing, then down at the outside of the chamber pot, as though he expected to see something there that would make everything make sense, take away the horrible feeling of wrongness that was palpable in the tiny room.

Finally he met my eyes again, mouth open, face pale with pity and understanding. I nodded miserably, a tear finally overflowing my eye to run down my cheek.

“I’m pretty sure I am – uh, was? - pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! Please don't kill me! I...I had to. It's not my fault - blame the muse. 
> 
> I've been trying to write more - in my attempt at NaNoWriMo - but my muse has been uncooperative, preferring to work on my Alistair/Zevran one-shot for Alistair Appreciation Week, or also on a Nate/Leliana companion piece for this fic. I won't hit 50,000 words, but I'll probably hit 25,000 - sadly half of those are on other things. But I'm trying to keep up this pace for next month, so have no fear!


	149. Unrealised Potential

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *trigger warning: miscarriage*

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Nine: Unrealised Potential

****Trigger Warning: Miscarriage****

I sat curled up in a ball, forehead resting on my knees, arms wrapped around my legs, trying not to think or feel – or listen.

I could hear my husband just outside the open door, whispering frantically to Alim and Jowan. They were acting like I couldn’t hear them – like I was asleep, or something. Which, if they thought about it, they knew I wasn’t, given I still held the Architect’s mana. I could hear them clearly without trying. _Honestly, the door’s even open, for heaven’s sake._

I don’t think they were thinking much at all – just reacting.

To be fair, they’d all tried to help. Alistair, horrified by the full weight of what was happening – an unexpected, unplanned pregnancy, and now likely a miscarriage – had immediately gone for help. With Anders away, and no one else to turn to for help, he had brought both mages up to the small room where I waited. And to their credit, the two men had put aside their differences and both come, even though neither was a healer or had any experience with pregnancy or miscarriage – and even though they hated each other’s guts.

I had cleaned myself up to the best of my ability, stuffing several towels into a loose pair of trousers to prevent soiling my clothes – and whatever I was sitting on – yet again. And then I had laid there on the little couch while the two mages did their best to analyze what was happening to me. Both had tried to do something like the diagnostic scan I was familiar with from Wynne and Anders, and had agreed, with some discussion and a lot of uncertainty, that yes indeed, I had been pregnant, and that I was having a miscarriage. But with limited skills and experience, neither had been able to offer anything resembling reassurance as to whether it was progressing normally, whether the miscarriage was inevitable, and whether my bleeding was excessive.

“Save my baby?” I had begged, and both mages, so different in appearance, had developed the same, panicked expression and embarrassed flush.

“I’m not sure even Anders could do that, Sierra,” Jowan had sadly explained, holding my hand tightly. 

“But even if he could – and I’m not saying it’s possible, but even if it was – we don’t have the knowledge,” Alim had continued.

“I’m going to ask Avernus,” Jowan announced, and had rushed off – only to return a few minutes later shaking his head sadly. 

“Velanna?” I asked. 

“Knows even less than us, according to her.”

And the entire time, Alistair had just stood there, looking helpless and horrified, taking deep gulps of air and refusing to meet my gaze.

I just curled myself into the smallest ball I could, put my head down, and concentrated on my breathing.

And now I could hear the three of them talking in the hall, and it wasn’t helping.

“What the void happened?” Alim demanded. “Getting pregnant in the middle of a darkspawn war? And letting her stay awake for days? What did you expect would happen?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Alistair almost sobbed, and I had to suppress the urge to go to him, to try to soothe the pain I could hear in his voice. “We didn’t know. It’s all my fault. When she was captured…I forgot. I was so distracted trying to save her that I think I forgot to take the powder. This is all my fault.”

The regret in his tone lanced through me like a spear, and I squeezed my legs harder to suppress the moan of pain that threatened. _All I want is to save this baby I’m losing – and he just regrets that it happened._ I felt tears finally begin to fall, and soak through the knees of my pants. And then I felt another wave of cramps hit me, and I wasn’t able to suppress the moan of pain.

All three men rushed into the little room, but with nothing they could do to help, the two mages just offered their condolences and reluctantly left, encouraging Alistair to come get them if the bleeding got any worse. Alistair went to scoop me up and pull me into his lap, but I objected, scrambling out of his arms. He tried to hold me anyway, and I struggled briefly before giving up and collapsing against his firm chest with a stifled sob.

“What if I bleed more? I don’t want to get it all over you,” I complained, pushing ineffectually against him.

“I couldn’t care less,” he insisted, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Just relax. I’ve got you.” And I couldn’t bring myself to refuse the comfort he offered, even knowing we felt so differently about what was happening. I leaned back against his chest, throwing one arm up to cover my eyes with my elbow, and went back to trying my best to meditate, clear my mind and think about nothing – without falling asleep.

Over the next while, I drank water at Alistair’s insistence, but refused anything else, still feeling nauseated and too upset to even care about food. Alistair kept me in his lap except for when I was dealing with the flood of blood that happened periodically, refusing to leave me even to sleep, and I didn’t have the heart to argue with him. But I wasn’t ready to talk, either, and he was clever enough to know that and choose not to push me. I was too exhausted and sad to cry, needing all of my energy to fight to stay awake, not to let go of the Architect’s mana. 

Every now and then I thought I felt silent sobs wrack Alistair’s body. _Maybe he doesn’t want to talk yet either._

I lapsed again into hallucinations, sometimes reliving horrible memories – the feel of Utha’s too-warm, black blood running down my wrist as I stabbed her, or the horror of watching Faren succumb to the poison I’d added to his water – but sometimes it was something more akin to daydreaming. I was having a particularly insidious vision of the future where the baby I carried lived, and Alistair and I welcomed it into the world and became a family – and couldn’t help the dismayed groan that left me when I woke to discover none of it had been real. Alistair rocked me, stroking my hair and trying to comfort me as I fought down the urge to scream.

Anders and Aedan found us there a while later, having finally arrived from the Circle. They had apparently been warned what was happening when they arrived. Both men came racing into the room, Aedan to wrap his arm around my shoulders, press a kiss to the side of my head, and beg forgiveness for not being there for me when I needed it, and Anders to stand sheepishly in the doorway waiting for everyone to get out of the way so he could offer help. Zev slipped in past Anders, expression sympathetic. I saw Jowan and Alim lingering behind Anders, and heard more talking from the hall; clearly everyone had now heard what had happened and had come to gawk.

Even I knew the thought was uncharitable; my friends were just trying to be supportive, but in that moment I wanted nothing more than to be alone, and allowed to go to sleep. I nodded at Aedan wordlessly, and then curled up tighter, still held securely in Alistair’s lap, covering my head with my arms and wishing for everyone to disappear.

Finally after a few minutes like that, where it became awkwardly evident that I was not planning to engage in any conversation with my visitors about what was happening, Anders cleared his throat. “Perhaps we could have some…privacy?”

Startled and embarrassed, everyone began clearing out. Aedan, clearly upset with my lack of communication, seemed to think he should stay; he exchanged some kind of wordless conversation with Alistair, and finally slunk out sulkily.

“Love? Do you want me to go, or…” 

I could see the concern on my husband’s face, but also the understanding. He was frightened, and he wanted to help, but if I’d wanted him to leave he would have.

I couldn’t do it, couldn’t say the words that would have made him walk out the door, knowing the pain they’d cause and the stricken look he’d get even while complying. Instead I closed my eyes and nuzzled into his shoulder without a word. 

“Right,” Anders muttered anxiously. “You’re fine just where you are, just…”

The mage stopped, and I could hear him shifting his weight awkwardly for a moment, and then he sighed. I felt his aura flare, and greenish light emanated from my abdomen, almost blinding me even with my eyes closed. It lasted forever, or so it seemed, while I ruthlessly tried to suppress the horrible scenarios that tried to intrude on my consciousness – visions of me surrounded by a small lake of my own blood, eyes staring sightlessly at the sky plagued my imagination. I shuddered, and Alistair’s arms closed around me tighter.

“Anders?” My husband’s voice was steady, but barely hidden panic and impotent rage were obvious.

Finally it was over, a minute or a lifetime later, and Anders flopped into a chair facing us with a whoosh of breath. I opened my eyes and risked a peek at the mage’s angular face. He had scruffy stubble, long enough that he obviously hadn’t shaved in a couple of days; there were deep, dark circles under his eyes and his complexion looked almost bruised somehow. But it was his expression that made me regret looking the most: sadness, empathy, _pity_.

I almost screamed. The sound that emerged from me – almost the only sound I’d made since saying the word ‘pregnant’ to Alistair other than a moan of pain – was a shrill whine.

Anders winced. “I’m sorry. Sierra, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t been so distracted by Solona and Faren and darkspawn, maybe I’d have realised…” I grunted impatiently, and he took a deep breath to steel himself before going on. “You were pregnant. Two months or so, I’d guess. You’ve had a miscarriage. There’s nothing anyone could have done.”

I nodded, having guessed what he’d say before he’d said it.

“You’re bleeding rather more than I’m comfortable with, and we need to talk about that. I can help. But you need to know that this isn’t unusual, it happens to a lot of women, and it doesn’t mean…well, there’s no reason to think you couldn’t have a normal pregnancy in the future. Everything’s going to be fine.”

My temper flared in a small portion of a second, and almost before I knew how I’d done it, I leaped out of Alistair’s lap and towered over the seated mage, blazing with anger. “Fine? Everything’s fine? If you ignore that my god-damned body killed my own baby, that is.” The wind was taken out of my sails when I staggered, suddenly light-headed, and almost face-planted into the lap of the current object of my rage. Alistair reached out and caught me, holding me up so I didn’t crumple to the floor.

Anders’ expression didn’t shift from the understanding, empathetic one he’d started with – like he’d expected my reaction and it didn’t bother him. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, and then reached out for my hand. “Lay down, Sierra. Let me help you.”

My anger spent, I nodded, and he gestured toward the small couch Alistair and I had been sitting on. I was lifted and placed down on my side, and I curled up, fetal style, around the cramping, uncomfortable seat of my misery, and closed my eyes again.

I heard Anders murmur something to Alistair, ignoring the words and just trying to be comforted by the calm tone of his voice. After a brief exchange, Alistair knelt beside me and stroked the sweaty hair out of my face. 

“Anders says it’s better if I go, and that I’m needed downstairs. I won’t be far, and I’ll be right back, okay?” 

I nodded.

“I love you, Sierra.” He kissed my temple, and then he was gone.

Anders pulled his chair closer to the couch, and waited a moment, then finally spoke. “It’s not your fault.”

I snarled, but half-heartedly – I’d used too much energy, and I didn’t have anything left to fight with.

“No, really. Sometimes…usually, in cases like these, something went wrong, right from the get-go. It wasn’t anything you did. I imagine you’re blaming the fighting, the stress, maybe the staying awake…but that’s probably not why. It was just bad luck, and nothing you could have done would have changed it.”

I opened one eye and stared his face, skeptical; he sat calmly through my examination, nodding when he could see that I accepted it as truth. I felt his mana flare, and a soothing wave of restored energy and vitality flowed into me. I finally uncurled and sat up, ignoring my spinning head to slump back and sigh.

“Thanks.” I nodded gratefully, and he smiled softly. I looked down, playing with the hem of my tunic absently. “This sucks.”

He nodded.

“It was an accident. It’s too soon; we weren’t ready. I should be…”

He raised one eyebrow and waited.

“…relieved. Right?”

Anders rubbed his tired-looking face with one hand. “Tell me something. Do you want children with him? Eventually, I mean. A family, a little curly-haired girl or a cute blond boy – or both – following you around, blanket in hand, calling you mama and keeping you from sleeping?”

I nodded, the tears threatening for the first time since this nightmare had begun. “More than anything. Eventually,” I whispered.

“Then tell me, how exactly are you supposed to have felt relieved at this? Early and unwanted aren’t the same thing, and you know that.”

I nodded again, tears finally overflowing. He was right. It would have been a little dicey – dealing with the Architect, getting to know each other and how to coexist in times of peace, and trying to run the Peak while enormously pregnant wouldn’t have been perfect, but we’d have managed. And thinking about a little tow-headed child on my hip while we sorted it all out wasn’t an unappealing concept in the least. _It’s too soon, but we’d have been fine – more than fine – despite that._

“Damn it.” I gripped his offered hand with one of my own, and scrubbed at my moist eyes with the other.

“The good news is that this doesn’t mean that can’t happen. One miscarriage, even a few…it doesn’t make that less likely. This is just a little complication, a little delay. But you’re going to be fine, and you’ll get there eventually.”

I released his hand and nodded again, my head still spinning. I put one hand hazily to my forehead, trying to hold everything still.

“You are bleeding too much, though, which might be due to the stress. You have a choice.” He stood up, encouraging me to lay down again, tucking a pillow under my feet to elevate them.

“A choice?”

“I can make it like a normal miscarriage. You’ll bleed for a few days, like a heavier than normal monthly, and heal on your own. A lot of people find that easier, emotionally – like they have, I don’t know, some sort of closure.”

“Or?”

“Or I can make it like this never happened. Help you expel everything that needs to come out and then stop the bleeding. It’s easier on your body, maybe, but harder on your soul. Your emotions might still be a mess, and it might be harder on you later, when you grieve.”

I thought about it – thought about trying to stay awake, to do whatever we needed to do with the Architect, to deal with settling in and getting caught up with Levi and trying to manage staff and feed a pack of hungry Wardens and figure out a budget…all while bleeding, having to run to the bathroom and deal with stupid girl problems constantly.

The answer was obvious. 

“Just get it done.”

He nodded, clearly expecting that. “Look, this is going to be uncomfortable for a minute…”

********

Anders and I wandered slowly down the stairs and into the main dining hall a few minutes later, to the shock of everyone standing there and arguing amongst themselves. I felt a lot better – between the healing and Anders’ rejuvenation spell – but was still a bit woozy. I moved carefully so as not to fall – and also to test myself with each step and ensure I wasn’t too far to hold the Architect’s mana. _Apparently, I don’t have much of a range limit…_

I took a moment to look around while everyone goggled at me, and if I hadn’t been feeling so…so…whatever, I might have giggled at the looks on everyone’s faces.

There were a dozen templars, a couple of the Tranquil, and a few unfamiliar mages standing there, led by Greagoir himself, to my surprise. The grizzled old Knight Commander nodded at me – an expression something like grudging respect on his face, and he saluted smartly. The templars weren’t staring at me until he did so, so at least I hoped my personal business had not been broadcast that far, anyway.

The people staring at me included my husband, my brother, the rest of the Wardens – with the noticeable exceptions of Solona, Faren, and Sigrun – Levi, and a handful of servants. There was almost complete silence now, but I’d been able to hear the arguing voices, if not the specific words, from two floors up.

“Welcome to my Keep, folks,” I finally said, walking over to join the group. I squeezed Aedan’s hand surreptitiously as I passed, and then fed my arm through Alistair’s once I reached him. “I’m quite certain no one meant to be so rude as to leave everyone standing here in the hallway shouting, but I’m also certain it’s not something we need to have continue. Seneschal Dryden, could you please find these people,” I gestured to the templars, Tranquil, and mages, “somewhere to rest and some refreshments?”

Levi nodded.

“Commanders, Knight-Commander, Wardens Anders, Jowan, Alim, Rolan, and Conrad, please follow me; I’ll find us somewhere private and comfortable to talk. The rest of you, please settle in. If you don’t know where your rooms are, these folks can help. Everyone stay close, and we will let you know what’s happening when we figure it out.”

With that, the servants started leading tired Wardens to their rooms, Levi led road-stained, weary mages and templars away – presumably to the large dining room – and those I’d called out followed me. I had one good-sized sitting room near my office, and thought it would have enough room for the nine of us to talk. I settled onto a small couch with Alistair at my side, and the others found seating where they could. An elven servant I vaguely recognised from my previous visit bustled in behind us, carrying a tray with cups of hot tea and a platter of cheeses and bread. I nodded to her thankfully, and Aedan closed the door behind her when she left.

“So, would someone care to fill me in?”

Between Aedan and Anders, I was brought up to speed. Anders had some things to work on with Faren, but they’d wait until we had the Architect secured. Solona was awake and apparently ‘fine’, but in her room recovering. _Whatever that means – I’ll corner Anders once this meeting is done._

Greagoir had taken the death of many rogue templars better than expected, and had sent letters to the Grand Cleric and the Divine; presumably the Wardens would hear from them eventually, but there was nothing further for us to do for the moment. _I wonder if they’ll apologise, thank us, or condemn us? Never can tell with the Chantry._ Greagoir was clearly pissed off that so many templars had gone behind his back, if the ticking muscle in his jaw while we talked about it was any indication. He voiced his apologies several times – to us, but also to Anders directly, which both surprised and impressed me. And he vowed to try to find out if there were more templars out there gunning for our mages – and find out who sent them, as well.

And then he offered to allow us to recruit a number of templars from his ranks to become Wardens, and function essentially as bodyguards for the mages – to guard them against future similar attacks as well as from darkspawn. He guaranteed that he would only recommend those he knew were ‘of the right mindset’, by which he meant they didn’t believe all mages were abominations to be watched – and they also respected the Wardens and their role in Thedas. It was clear to me it was meant as some sort of political move to offset any backlash the Chantry would face, but it was equally clear he meant it as a personal sort of apology as well. He suggested that the mages be allowed to help choose which templars would join, saying they could choose up to four of the templars who had accompanied him – one for each mage currently in the Wardens. _He doesn’t know about Velanna, clearly._

He’d apparently made the offer to Aedan before, and was just restating it, whether for my benefit or to push Aedan to make a decision, I wasn’t sure. Aedan told him he’d think about it – and that he needed to discuss it with Alistair. Personally, I had no objection – but I’d want to grill any potential recruits very thoroughly before we took them. No one needed a repeat of the Rolan problem.

Finally we moved on to the discussion of the Architect and what could be done about him.

“I really must insist on knowing all of the details of who you are detaining, and why,” Greagoir stated darkly.

_Ahh, now we get to what they were arguing about._

“Warden secret, Knight-Commander. I’ve already told you that. All you need to know is that we need a room warded against magic, so that the occupant cannot cast spells at all.” Aedan was visibly frustrated, and it was clear they’d had this conversation more than once already.

“This knowledge is specific to the Chantry, Warden-Commander. The Chantry may owe you recompense for what was done to your Wardens by templars not under my command, but I will not give out this information without adequate reason, nor will I risk unknowingly contributing to something immoral-“

I cleared my throat, interrupting the templar mid-rant. Aedan looked away, embarrassed but still aggravated. “How much have you been told, Knight-Commander?”

“Nothing, and that’s exactly my point. Calling in a favour is one thing, but-“

I sighed. “Aedan?”

“He doesn’t need to know.” I glared at him, and he scowled right back. “He doesn’t!”

“What happened to my diplomatic brother? The one who could talk a Chantry sister into committing murder with a smile on her face?”

He stood, suddenly, face red. Visibly shaking with anger, he opened his mouth to respond, and I braced myself for a torrent of vitriol. I was shocked and frightened by the look on his face; my brother hadn’t been that angry in my presence ever, never mind aimed at me. My reaction must have penetrated his anger, because he closed his mouth, took a deep, calming breath, rubbed his forehead irritably with the heel of his hand, and then leaned over to kiss my forehead softly. “Sorry sis,” he mumbled.

I reached for his hand, but he shook his head slightly and pulled away. “I will defer to my co-Commander in this.” He gestured to Alistair, and then turned towards the door. “I find myself needing some air.” He walked out swiftly, closing the door behind himself with a definite thump.

The room was deadly silent in the aftermath of Aedan’s outburst. _What in the hell was that all about?_ I looked from the door, to Alistair’s face – which echoed my confusion, his brow wrinkled and lips pursed – to Greagoir and the others. The Knight Commander looked thoughtful, stroking his chin like some movie cliché. The others winced, clearly having a better idea than I what was going on, but Anders caught my eye and purposefully glanced toward the Knight-Commander, and I got the point: it would have to wait until we had some privacy to discuss whatever was wrong with my brother. _And I hope Zevran is out there to calm him down until we can figure it out._

Alistair and I shared an uneasy glance, and then he shrugged slightly and gestured at me with his chin. I sighed, and turned back to Greagoir, shaking my head to clear the fog that was creeping back in after Anders’ rejuvenation spell.

“Knight-Commander, do you remember the darkspawn that killed Duncan during the battle with the Archdemon?” He nodded. “It was a mage – one of the most powerful mages I’ve ever come across.”

“I recall. King Cailan killed it while you disabled its magic, as I remember,” he replied. 

“Right. Well, we’ve found another darkspawn like it – one even more dangerous and intelligent. We captured it. You can probably feel the mana I’m holding right now, if you concentrate. And for reasons we cannot explain, we can’t simply kill it. We need to contain it, possibly forever. If it escaped or was rescued, a lot of people could die. It is all but immune to magebane, and we don’t have any other reliable method of subduing it. We need your help to create a way to keep it locked away from its magic forever.

“Will you help us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having been through this, I'm sorry to anyone triggered by this. Miscarriage is awful and unfair. However you feel, however you deal with that, I'm sorry for anyone who's been there. *hugs*

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [An Unexpected Journey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094602) by [Viera_LR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viera_LR/pseuds/Viera_LR)
  * [Parallel Reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5650600) by [Andarine_Lavellan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andarine_Lavellan/pseuds/Andarine_Lavellan)
  * [Into Thedas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12036519) by [JadedNightwing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadedNightwing/pseuds/JadedNightwing)




End file.
